MSKttEY

LIBRARY

UJ4WE1SITY Of

THE ABBET CLASSICS— F

WILLIAM COBBE??

A TEAR'S RESIDENCE IN
AMERICA

To

II \\\

YEAR'S (RESIDENCE
IN

WILLIAM COBBEtt

DD,from their offices
n mark Street, in the Count/

Cahill & Co., Ltd., London, Dublin and Drogheda.

5

JWKMMfr

CONfENfS

Introduction ..... . . ix

General Preface to the Three Parts . . . xvii

PART I

CHAP. I. Description of the Situation and Extent
of Long Island, and also of the Face
of the Country, and an Account of
the Climate, Seasons, and Soil i

II. RUTA BAGA. Culture, Mode of pre
serving, and Uses of the Ruta Baga,
sometimes called the Russia, and
sometimes the Swedish, Turnip . 40

PART II

Dedication "83

Preface ' . . .85

CHAP. III. Experiments as to Cabbages . 89

IV. Earth-burning . . . 101

V. Transplanting Indian Corn . . 106

VI. Swedish Turnips . . . in

VII. Potatoes ..... 122

VIII. Cows, Sheep, Hogs, and Poultry . 134

-^ IX. Prices of Land, Labour, Food and

Raiment . . . . .141
X. Expences of Housekeeping . . 146
XI. Manners, Customs, and Character

of the People . . . . 153

CONVENTS

Page
CHAP. XII. Rural Sports . . 162

XIII. Paupers 168

XIV. Government, Laws, and Religion . 173

PART III

Dedication . . . . . . 195

Preface . . . . . . . 197

Mr. Hulme's Introduction to his Journal . . 199
Mr. Hulme's Journal, made during a Tour in the
Western Countries of America, in which Tour he
visited Mr. Birkbeck's Settlement . . .205
Mr. Cobbett's Letters to Mr. Birkbeck, remon
strating with that Gentleman on the numerous
delusions, contained in his two publications,
entitled " Notes on a Journey in America " and
" Letters from Illinois " . . . -235

Postscript, being the detail of an experiment made

in the cultivation of the Ruta Baga . . . 270
\ Second Postscript, a Refutation of Fearon's False
hoods 272

vi

PART I

INTRODUCTION

A sort of spy, as Cobbett called him, Henry Bradshaw Fearon,
an English radical, who called on Cobbett at his farm at Hyde
Park, twenty miles from New York, gave a sketch of " this well-
known character," his host :

"A print by Bartolozzi, executed in 1801, conveys a correct
outline of his person. His eyes are small, and pleasingly
good-natured. To a French gentleman present, he was
attentive ; with his sons, familiar ; to his servants, easy,
but to all, in his tone and manner, resolute and determined.
He feels no hesitation in praising himself, and evidently
believes that he is eventually destined to be the Atlas of
the British nation. His faculty in relating anecdotes is

amusing My impressions of Mr. Cobbett are,

that those who know him would like him if they can be
content to submit unconditionally to his dictation. ' Obey
me and I will treat you kindly ; if you do not, I will
trample on you,' seemed visible in every word and feature.
He appears to feel, in its fullest force the sentiment :

I have no brother, am like no brother :
I am myself alone."

Fearon had published a volume called Sketches in America, and
in his relation of this visit to Cobbett he included a report of certain
reflections attributed to his host and likely to give offence to
Americans. These reflections, and Cobbett's ferocious, repudia
tion, are to be found in the second postscript to Part III of the
present volume ; but you will not find there any repudiation of
this excellent brief sketch. Cobbett, it may be surmised, was
not displeased with it, and indeed it is perfectly consistent not
simply with the many portraits and cartoons which mirror the
outward man, but also with the inward man presented so fully,
so freshly, so garrulously in Cobbett's own books. ' A blade I
took for a decent tailor, my son William for a shopkeeper's clerk,
and Mrs. Churcher, with less charity, for a slippery young man,
or, at best, for an Exciseman,' is his scornful sketch of poor
Fearon ; truly a harsh return for the amiable portrait drawn by
the young Radical author.

ix

INTRODUCTION

ii

Cobbett's residence in America, from 1817 to 1819, which forms
the subject of the present volume, was not his first sojourn in the
western hemisphere. He had served in the British Army in New
Brunswick and returned with his regiment in 1791 ; and after
his discharge, made grave allegations of corruption against certain
officers of his late regiment. Fearing an unequal trial and per
sonal danger, he had fled from England when a court-martial was
about to investigate his charges, and from 1792 to 1800 he lived
in the United States, practising there that free and furious in
vective which was a main element of his controversial method,
and only leaving when he was nearly ruined by the damages
awarded against him for libel. The noise of his contention was
heard across the Atlantic, and when he landed at Falmouth in the
summer of 1800, he found himself poor and famous. Windham
soon acclaimed him as a man who by his unaided exertions had
rendered his country services that entitled him to a statue of gold,
and encouraged him in the foundation of the notorious Political
Register, which shortly proved to be a deep well of money for its
energetic owner. But not many years elapsed before Cobbett's
inconstancy betrayed itself, although without betraying his
honesty ; his political opinions changed until the Tory was lost
in the Radical. The simple truth was that he could not endure
to give continuous approval to any man or party, and was naturally
in opposition and naturally the champion of the weaker many,
though never of a hopeless minority. He found it possible to
vary the life of a pamphleteer with the life of a farmer, having
bought (in 1805) a farm at Botley in Hampshire, and spending
lavishly there the money won by his popular journalism. " A
born agitator" would be our ready phrase for a Cobbett of to-day,
if we chose to forget how much more than an agitator was the
author of this volume. He preserved a certain caution in his
political work until the Peninsular war sharpened his animosity
to the government. That animosity was violently expressed,
but the government, that both hated and feared him, found no
very plausible occasion for a prosecution until 1809, when he
became infuriated on hearing of the flogging of English Militia
by German troops :

"The mutiny among the local militia which broke out at
Ely, was fortunately suppressed on Wednesday by the
arrival of four squadrons of the German Legion Cavalry
from Bury, under the command of General Auckland.
Five of the ring-leaders were tried by court-martial, and
sentenced to receive five hundred lashes each, part of which
punishment they received on Wednesday, and a part was

INTRODUCTION

remitted. A stoppage for their knapsacks was the ground
of complaint that excited this mutinous spirit, which
occasioned the men to surround their officers, and demand
what they deemed their arrears. The first division of the
German Legion halted yesterday at Newmarket on their
return to Bury."

Cobbett commented on this in his Register with such quick and
honourable anger, such intense contempt for wanton authority,
that action was tardily taken against him. His defence was far
less gallant and effective than his attack had been ; he was con
victed, condemned to two years' imprisonment, to pay a fine of a
thousand pounds, and at the end of his imprisonment to give
heavy bail and find sureties for his keeping the peace for seven
years. Prison life in Newgate, mitigated as it was by means,
industry and the kindness of friends, was a sore experience, and
it is wonderful that the violent-minded victim was not more
embittered than his subsequent writings reveal.

On his release from prison in 1812, Cobbett was entertained
like a martyr restored from the flames. He had maintained an
incredible literary activity during his two years' imprisonment ;
he boasted of it with characteristic self-satisfaction — most
lengthily and amusingly in his Advice to Young Men — and now
he emerged once more into the sun of men's attention. His
mind was flattered and quickened. The bond for seven years'
keeping the peace restrained his ardour, but he could not be
pacific in the face of tyranny, nor timid at the sight of power ;
and he soon began moving about the country (much in the way of
his more famous Rural Rides which followed, in 1821, his second
return from the United States), and addressing an exasperated
and expectant people. His boldness and readiness in public
controversy are amusing, and it was in one of his meetings with
county freeholders that he dealt thus with an opponent :

" I fixed my eye upon him, and pointing my hand down
right, and making a sort of chastising motion, said ' Peace,
babbling slave ! * which produced such terror amongst
others, that I met with no more interruption."

A result of these journeys was the revived prosperity of the
Register and, 'in 1816, the issue of a twopenny edition (Cobbett's
Twopenny Trasli) for the enlightenment of the masses.

Parliament was now the enemy against which his most powerful
blows were aimed. The cause of the present discontents he
asserted was the taxes, and this intolerable taxation proceeded
in turn from the want of Parliamentary Reform. At the time of
the Luddite agitation he deprecated violence, and was candid
enough to tell his audience that there was no solid objection to
the use of machinery ; machines distinguished the civil from the

INTRODUCTION

savage man, and the abolition of machinery would make life
impossible. But notwithstanding such moderate counsels his
position as champion of the labourers of England was a dangerous
one ; for his followers were excitable and desperate. At the end
of 1816, when rioting began in London, in the boldness of panic
the government passed several emergency statutes, including one
suspending the Habeas Corpus Act. Cobbett's seven years of
pledged good behaviour had not yet expired, and under this new
and ominous power he could be thrown into prison at the whim
of any timid or ambitious underling ; and since his plain courage
was always dashed with prudence, early in 1817 he once more
fled from England, writing in a farewell to his readers from
Liverpool :

" I have no desire to write libels. I have written none
here. Lord Sidmouth was ' sorry to say ' that I had not
written anything that the Law Officers could prosecute
with any chance of success. I do not remove for the pur
pose of writing libels, but for the purpose of being able to
write what is not libellous. I do not retire from a combat
with the Attorney- General but from a combat with a
dungeon, deprived of pen, ink, and paper. A combat with
the Attorney- General is quite unequal enough. That,
however, I would have encountered. I know too well
what a trial by Special Jury is. Yet that, or any sort of
trial , I would have stayed to face. So that I could have
been sure of a trial, of whatever sort, I would have run the
risk. But against the absolute power of imprisonment,
without even a hearing, for time unlimited, in any jail in
the kingdom, without the use of pen, ink, and paper, and
without any communication with any soul but the keepers
— against such a power it would have been worse than
madness to attempt to strive."

It was no mere voluble demagogue who declared :

" I will never become a Subject or a Citizen in any other
state, and will always be a foreigner in every country but
England. Any foible that may belong to your character
I shall always willingly allow to belong to my own. And
the celebrity which my writings have obtained, and which
they will preserve, long and long after Lords Liverpool
and Sidmouth and Castlereagh are rotten and forgotten,
I owe less to my own talents than to that discernment and
that noble spirit in you, which have at once instructed
my mind and warmed my heart : and my beloved country
men, be you well assured, that the last beatings of that
heart will be love for the people, for the happiness and the
renown of England ; and hatred of their corrupt, hypo
critical, dastardly and merciless foes."
xii

INTRODUCTION

Perhaps, as his biographers have suggested, his departure was
quickened by financial troubles. The Quarterly Review said
that he " fled from his creditors. That he should do this was
perfectly natural ; the thing to be admired is, that such a man
should have creditors to flee from." But clearly it was not only
his debts that urged his flight.

He had left America, in 1800, a Tory, an anti-democrat ; but
now, in 1817, he returned a Radical, smarting and denouncing
the institutions and the masters of his native country. Often in
the Register, which he still directed and contributed to during
his exile, and in the following pages, he contrasted the maleficence
of the English system with the freedom of the American — the
freedom of speech and the press, the lightness of the taxes, the
independence of the people :

" To see a free country for once, and to see every labourer
with plenty to eat and drink ! Think of that ! And never
to see the hang-dog face of a tax-gatherer. Think of
that ! No Alien Acts here ! No long-sworded and
whiskered Captains. No Judges escorted from town to
town and sitting under the guard of dragoons. No packed
juries of tenants. No Crosses. No Bolton Fletchers. No
hangings and rippings up. No Castleses and Olivers.
No Stewarts and Perries. No Cannings, Liverpools,
Castlereaghs, Eldons, Ellenboroughs or Sidmouths. No
Bankers. No Squeaking Wynnes. No Wilberforces.
Think of that. No Wilberforces ! "

Though he speaks with the tongue of men and of stern angels,
humour is still heard ; there is still an enjoyment of his own
phrase, a satisfaction in his own grotesque imaginations.

He had found himself forgotten when he arrived in America,
and acquiesced in this unusual experience, occupying himself
with the purchase and cultivation of his farm, and planning
and writing, among other books, the enormously popular English
Grammar. His family and other letters from America are pleasant
enough in their hints of rural felicity only half complete ; it is
described more freely in the present volume, which does not
afford an orderly narrative of the seasons of the year and the
labours of an unambitious man, but rather the chaotic energies,
the diversions, humours and passions of a man who sought to
live many lives at once.

Cobbett was not able to stay long in quietness. His house and
much of his property were destroyed by fire in 1819, and this
disaster turned his thoughts homeward again. The suspension
of the Habeas Corpus Act had not been renewed, and the prospect
of liberty in his native country seemed fair. Bearing the bones
of Torn Paine he left America in the autumn of 1819, and landed
in Liverpool with the precious relics in his proud possession.

xiii

INTRODUCTION

" Great indeed," he exclaimed to a wondering assembly, *' great
indeed must that man have been, whose very bones attract such
attention." Armed with the bones Cobbett passed like a Prince
through a country torn with faction — here welcomed, there
repulsed, and always self-delighted. He was once again in
England, and happy.

Ill

A Year's Residence in America is a favourite book among the
growing body of admirers of William Cobbett, mainly because
it is so pleasant in its autobiography. Did George Borrow learn
from him that trick of displaying, enlarging, and discoursing upon
his prejudices and opinions, which is so characteristic of both ?
A Year's Residence is full of Cobbett — the homely man, the
romantic, the satirical, the eloquent, the curt. Pigs lead him to
Rousseau ; that scurvy root, the potato, is involved with a
denunciation of Shakespeare and Milton ; parsons like placemen
are distinguished by his scorn ; Arthur Young is but a religious
fanatic, bribed by £500 a year ; and Bentham becomes little Mr.
Jerry Bentham, an everlasting babbler. He pleases himself with
the praise of American hospitality, regretting that it had died in
England under the extortion of the tax-gatherer, and still more
delights himself with the beauty of American women. But his
heart is still in England : " England is my country and to England
I shall return. I like it best " ; to which country, he says " I
always have affection which I cannot feel towards any other in the
same degree, and the prosperity and honour of which I shall, I
hope, never cease to prefer before the gratification of all private
pleasure and emoluments."

Near the close of his life he said, " I suppose that no one has
ever passed a happier life than I have done." That, after all, is
his chief recommendation to the kindness of posterity, and the
chief virtue of A Year's Residence in America — the transparent
happiness of the author. And since I began with a portrait by
Fearon, I should like to end with another by Hazlitt, who admired
him as only Hazlitt can admire — with accordant praise and blame
in a resounding and perfect antiphony :

" The only time I ever saw him he seemed to me a very
pleasant man : easy of access, affable, clear-headed, simple
and mild in his manner, deliberate and unruffled in his
speech, though some of his expressions were not very
qualified. His figure is tall and portly : he has a good
sensible face, rather full, with little grey eyes, a hard,
square forehead, a ruddy complexion, with hair grey or
powdered : and had on a scarlet broad-cloth waistcoat,
xiv

INTRODUCTION

with the flaps of the pockets hanging down, as was the
custom for gentlemen-farmers in the last century, or as we
see it in the picture of Members of Parliament in the reign
of George I. I certainly did not think less favourably
of him for seeing him."

JOHN FREEMAN.

Q6N8RAL TT^BFACB

TO THE

THR86 TARTS

1. THROUGHOUT the whole of this work it is my intention to
number the paragraphs, from one end to the other of each PART.
This renders the business of reference more easy than it can be
rendered by any mode in my power to find out ; and, easy re
ference saves a great deal of paper and print, and also, which
ought to be more valuable a great deal of time, of which an in
dustrious man has never any to spare. To desire the reader to
look at paragraph such a number of such a part, will frequently,
as he will find, save him both money and labour ; for, without
this power of reference, the paragraph, or the substance of it,
would demand being repeated in the place where the reference
would be pointed out to him.

2. Amongst all the publications, which I have yet seen, on the
subject of the United States, as a country to live in, and especially
to farm in, I have never yet observed one that conveyed to English
men anything like a correct notion of the matter. Some writers
of Travels in these States have jolted along in the stages from
place to place, have lounged away their time with the idle part
of their own countrymen, and, taking every thing different from
what they left at home for the effect of ignorance, and every thing
not servile to be the effect of insolence, have described the country
as unfit for a civilized being to reside in. Others, coming with a
resolution to find every thing better than at home, and weakly
deeming themselves pledged to find climate, soil, and all blessed
by the effects of freedom, have painted the country as a perfect
paradise ; they have seen nothing but blooming orchards and
smiling faces.

3. The account, which I shall give, shall be that of actual
experience. I will say what I know and what I have seen and
what I have done. I mean to give an account of a YEAR'S
RESIDENCE, ten months in this Island and two months in
Pennsylvania, in which I went back to the first ridge of mountains.

GENERAL PREFACE

In the course of the THREE PARTS, of which this work will consist,
each part making a small volume, every thing which appears to
me useful to persons intending to come to this country shall be
communicated ; but, more especially that which may be useful
to farmers / because, as to such matters, I have ample experience.
Indeed, this is the main thing ; for this is really and truly a country
of farmers. Here, Governors, Legislators, Presidents, all are
farmers. A farmer here is not the poor dependent wretch that a
Yeomanry- Cavalry man is, or that a Treason-Jury man is. A
farmer here depends on nobody but himself and on his own proper
means ; and, if he be not at his ease, and even rich, it must be
his own fault.

4. To make men clearly see what they may do in any situation
of life, one of the best modes, if not the ,very best, is to give them,
in detail, an account of what one has done oneself in that same
situation, and how and when and where one has done it. This,
as far as relates to farming and house-keeping in the country, is
the mode that I shall pursue. I shall give an account of what I
have done ; and, while this will convince any good farmer, or
any man of tolerable means, that he may, if he will, do the same,
it will give him an idea of the climate, soil, crops, &c., a thousand
times more neat and correct, than could be conveyed to his mind
by any general description, unaccompanied with actual experi
mental accounts.

5. As the expressing of this intention may, perhaps, suggest to
the reader to ask, how it is that much can be known on the subject
of Farming by a man, who, for thirty-six out of fifty-two years of
his life has been a Soldier or a Political Writer, and who, of course,
has spent so large a part of his time in garrisons and in great
cities, I will beg leave to satisfy this natural curiosity before-hand.

6. Early habits and affections seldom quit us while we have
vigour of mind left. I was brought up under a father, whose
talk was chiefly about his garden and his fields, with regard to
which he was famed for his skill and his exemplary neatness.
From my very infancy, from the age of six years, when I climbed
up the side of a steep sand-rock, and there scooped me out a plot
four feet square to make me a garden, and the soil for which I
carried up in the bosom of my little blue smock-frock (or hunting-
shirt), I have never lost one particle of my passion for these healthy
and rational and heart-cheering pursuits, in which every day
presents something new, in which the spirits are never suffered
to flag, and in which industry, skill, and care are sure to meet
with their due reward. I have never, for any eight months
together, during my whole life, been without a garden. So sure
are we to overcome difficulties where the heart and mind are
bent on the thing to be obtained !

7. The beautiful plantation of American Trees round my house
at Botley, the seeds of which were sent me, at my request, from
Pennsylvania, in 1806, and some of which are now nearly forty

GENERAL PREFACE

feet high, all sown and planted by myself, will, I hope, long remain
as a specimen of my perseverance in this way. During my whole
life I have been a gardener. There is no part of the business,
which, first or last, I have not performed with my own hands.
And, as to it, I owe very little to books, except that of TULL ;
for I never read a good one in my life, except a French book,
called the Manuel du Jardinier.

8. As to farming, I was bred at the plough-tail, and in the Hop-
Gardens of Farnham in Surrey, my native place, and which spot,
as it so happened, is the neatest in England, and, I believe, in the
whole world. All there is a garden. The neat culture of the
hop extends its influence to the fields round about. Hedges cut
with shears and every other mark of skill and care strike the eye
at Farnham, and become fainter and fainter as you go from it in
every direction. I have had, besides, great experience in farming
for several years of late ; for, one man will gain more knowledge
in a year than another will in a life. It is the taste for the thing
that really gives the knowledge.

9. To this taste, produced in me by a desire to imitate a father
whom I ardently loved, and to whose very word I listened with
admiration, I owe no small part of my happiness, for a greater
proportion of which very few men ever had to be grateful to God.
These pursuits, innocent in themselves, instructive in their very
nature, and always tending to preserve health, have a constant,
a never-failing source, of recreation to me ; and, which I count
amongst the greatest of their benefits and blessings, they have
always, in my house, supplied the place of the card-table, the
dice-box, the chess-board and the lounging bottle. Time never
hangs on the hands of him, who delights in these pursuits, and
who has books on the subject to read. Even when shut up within
the walls of a prison, for having complained that Englishmen had
been flogged in the heart of England under a guard of German
Bayonets and Sabres ; * even then, I found in these pursuits a
source of pleasure inexhaustible. To that of the whole of our
English books on these matters, I then added the reading of all the
valuable French books ; and I then, for .the first time, read that
Book of all Books on husbandry, the work of jETiiRO TULL, to
the principles of whom I owe more than to all my other reading
and all my experience, and of which principles I hope to find time
to give a sketch, at least, in some future PAPT of this work.

10. I wish it to be observed, that, in any thing which I may
say, during the course of this work, though truth will compel
me to state facts, which will, doubtless, tend to induce farmers to
leave England for America, I advise no one so to do. I shall set
down in writing nothing but what is strictly true. I myself am

* Sentenced 9 July, 1810, to pay a fine of £1,000 ; to be imprisoned
2 years in Newgate Gaol, and at expiration of that time to enter
into a Becognizance to keep the peace for 7 years— himself in the
Bum of £3,000, and two sureties in £1,000 each.

xix

GENERAL PREFACE

bound to England for life. My notions of allegiance to country ;
my great and anxious desire to assist in the restoration of her
freedom and happiness ; my opinion that I possess, in some
small degree, at any rate, the power to render such assistance ;
and, above all the other considerations, my unchangeable attach
ment to the people of England, and especially those who have
so bravely struggled for our rights : these bind me to England ;
but, I shall leave others to judge and to act for themselves.

WM. COBBETT.

North Hemps ted, Long Island,
z-Lst April, 1818.

TSARS
IN <AMSRICA

CHAPTER I.

Description of the Situation and Extent of Long Island, and also of
the Face of the Country , and an Account of the Climate, Seasons,
and Soil.

ii. LONG ISLAND is situated in what may be called the middle
climate of that part of the United States, which, coastwise, extends
from Boston to the Bay of Chesapeake. Farther to the South,
the cultivation is chiefly by negroes, and farther to the North than
Boston is too cold and arid to be worth much notice, though,
doubtless, there are to be found in those parts good spots of land
and good farmers. Boston is about 200 miles to the North of
me, and the Bay of Chesapeake about the same distance to the
South. In speaking of the climate and seasons, therefore, an
allowance must be made, of hotter or colder, earlier or later, in a
degree proportioned to those distances ; because I can speak
positively only of the very spot, at which I have resided. But
this is a matter of very little consequence ; seeing that every part
has its seasons first or last. All the difference is, that, in some
parts of the immense space of which I have spoken, there is a
little more summer than in other parts. The same crops will,
I believe, grow in them all.

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

12. The situation of Long Island is this : It is about 130 miles
long. It extends in length from the Bay of the City of New
York to within a short distance of the State of Rhode Island.
One side of it is against the sea, the other side looks across an arm
of the sea into a part of the State of New York (to which Long
Island belongs) and into a part of the State of Connecticut. At
the end nearest the city of New York it is separated from the site
of that city by a channel so narrow as to be crossed by a Steam-
Boat in a few minutes ; and this boat, with another near it,
impelled by a team of horses, which works in the boat, form the
mode of conveyance from the Island to the city, for horses,
waggons, and every thing else.

13. The Island is divided into three counties ; King's county,
Queen's county, and the county of Suffolk. King's county takes
off the end next New York city, for about 13 miles up the Island ;
Queen's county cuts off another slice about thirty miles further
up ; and all the rest is the county of Suffolk. These counties are
divided into townships. And, the municipal government of
Justices of the Peace, Sheriffs, Constables, &c. is in nearly the
English way, with such differences as I shall notice in the second
part of this work.

14. There is a ridge of hills, which runs from one end of the
Island to the other. The two sides are flats, or, rather, very easy
and imperceptible slopes towards the sea. There are no rivers,
or rivulets except here and there a little run into a bottom which
lets in the sea- water for a mile or two as it were to meet the springs.
Dryness is, therefore, a great characteristic of this Island. At
the place where I live, which is in Queen's county, and very nearly
the middle of the Island, crosswise, we have no water, except in a
well seventy feet deep, and from the clouds ; yet, we never ex
perience a want of water. A large rain-water cistern to take the
run from the house, and a duck-pond to take that from the barn,
afford an ample supply ; and I can truly say, that as to the article
of water, I never was situated to please me so well in my life before.
The rains come about once in fifteen days ; they come in
abundance for about twenty-four hours : and then all is fair
and all is dry again immediately : yet here and there, especially
on the hills, there are ponds, as they call them here ; but in England,
they would be called lakes, from their extent as well as from their
depth. These, with the various trees which surround them, are
very beautiful indeed.

15. The farms are so many plots originally scooped out of
woods ; though in King's and Queen's counties the land is
generally pretty much deprived of the woods, which, as in every
other part of America that I have seen, are beautiful beyond all
description. The Walnut of two or three sorts, the Plane, the
Hickory, Chesnut, Tulip Tree, Cedar, Sassafras, Wild Cherry
(sometimes 60 feet high) ; more than fifty sorts of Oaks ; and
many other trees, but especially the Flowering Locust, or Acacia,

a

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

which, in my opinion, surpasses all other trees, and some of
which, in this Island, are of a very great height and girt. The
Orchards constitute a feature of great beauty. Every farm has
its orchard, and, in general, of cherries as well as of apples and
pears. Of the cultivation and crops of these, I shall speak in
another Part of the work.

16. There is one great draw-back to all these beauties, namely,
the fences ; and, indeed, there is another with us South-of-
England people, namely, the general (for there are many ex
ceptions) slovenliness about the homesteads, and particularly
about the dwellings of labourers. Mr. BIRKBECK complains of
this ; and, indeed, what a contrast with the homesteads and
cottages, which he left behind him near that exemplary spot,
Guildford in Surrey ! Both blots are, however, easily accounted
for.

17. The fences are of post and rail. This arose, in the first
place, from the abundance of timber that men knew not how to
dispose of. It is now become an affair of great expense in the
populous parts of the country ; and, that it might, with great
advantage and perfect ease, be got rid of, I shall clearly show in
another part of my work.

18. The dwellings and gardens, and little out-houses of labourers,
which form so striking a feature of beauty in England, and
especially in Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Hampshire, and which
constitute a sort of fairy-land, when compared with those of the
labourers in Franc*, are what I, for my part, most feel the want
of seeing upon Long Island. Instead of the neat and warm little
cottage, the yard, cow-stable, pig-sty, hen-house, all in miniature,
and the garden, nicely laid out and the paths bordered with
flowers, while the cottage door is crowned with a garland of roses
or honey-suckle ; instead of these, we here see the labourer
content with a shell of boards, while all around him is as barren
as the sea-beach ; though the natural earth would send melons,
the finest in the world, creeping round his door, and though there
is no English shrub, or flower, which will not grow and flourish
here. This want of attention is such cases is hereditary from the
first settlers. They found land so plenty, that they treated small
spots with contempt. Besides, the example of neatness was
wanting. There were no gentlemen's gardens, kept as clean as
drawing-rooms, with grass as even as a carpet. From endeavour
ing to imitate perfection men arrive at mediocrity ; and, those
who never have seen, or heard of perfection, in these matters, will
naturally be slovens.

19. Yet, notwithstanding these blots, as I deem them, the face
of the country, in summer, is very fine. From December to
May, there is not a speck of green. No green-grass and turnips,
and wheat, and rye, and rape, as in England. The frost comes
and sweeps all vegetation and verdant existence from the face
of the earth. The wheat and rye live ; but, they lose all their

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

verdure. Yet the state of things in June, is, as to crops, and
fruits, much about what it is in England ; for, when things do
begin to grow, they grow indeed ; and the general harvest for
grain (what we call corn) is a full month earlier than in the South
of England !

20. Having now given a sketch of the face of the country, it
only remains for me to speak in this place of the Climate and
Seasons, because I shall sufficiently describe the Soil, when I
come to treat of my own actual experience of it. I do not like,
in these cases, general descriptions, Indeed, they must be very
imperfect ; and, therefore, I will just give a copy of a journal,
kept by myself, from the 5th of May, 1817, to the aoth of April,
1818. This, it appears to me, is the best way of proceeding ; for,
then, there can be no deception ; and, therefore, I insert it as
follows.

1817.

May 5. Landed at New York.

6. Went over to Long Island. Very fine day, warm
as May in England. The Peach-trees going out of
bloom. Plum trees in full bloom.

7. Cold, sharp, East wind, just like that which makes
the old debauchees in London shiver and shake.

8. A little frost in the night, and a warm day.

9. Cold in the shade and hot in the sun.

10. The weather has been dry for some time. The
grass is only beginning to grow a little.

1 1 . Heavy thunder and rain in the night, and all this day.

12. Rain till noon. Then warm and beautiful.

13. Warm, fine day. Saw, in the garden, lettuces,
onions, carrots, and parsnips, just come up out of
the ground.

14. Sharp, drying wind. People travel with great coats
to be guarded against the morning and evening air.

15. Warm and fair. The farmers are beginning to
plant their Indian Corn.

1 6. Dry wind, warm in the sun. Cherry trees begin
to come out in bloom. The Oaks show no green
yet. The Sassafras in flower, or, whatever else it
is called. It resembles the Elder flower a good deal

17. Dry wind. Warmer than yesterday. An English
April morning, that is to say, a sharp April morning,
and zjune day.

1 8. Warm and fine. Grass pushes on. Saw some
Lucerne in a warm spot, 8 inches high.

19. Rain all day. Grass grows apace. People plant
potatoes.

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

May 20. Fine and warm. A good cow sells, with a calf by
her side, for 45 dollars. A steer, two years old, 20
dollars. A working ox, five years old, 40 dollars.

21. Fine and warm day ; but the morning and evening
coldish. The cherry-trees in full bloom, and the
pear-trees nearly the same. Oats, sown in April,
up, and look extremely fine.

22. Fine and warm. — Apple-trees fast coming into
bloom. Oak buds breaking.

23. Fine and warm. — Things grow away. Saw kidney-
beans up and looking pretty well. Saw some beets
coming up. Not a sprig of parsley to be had for
love or money. What improvidence ! Saw some
cabbage plants up and in the fourth leaf.

24. Rain at night and all day to-day. Apple-trees in
full bloom, and cherry-bloom falling off.

25. Fine and warm.

26. Dry coldish wind, but hot sun. The grass has
pushed on most furiously.

27. Dry wind. Spaded up a corner of ground and
sowed (in the natural earth) cucumbers and melons.
Just the time, they tell me.

28. Warm and fair.

29. Cold wind ; but, the sun warm. No fires in par
lours now, except now-and-then in the mornings
and evenings.

30. Fine and warm. — Apples have dropped their blos
soms. And now the grass, the wheat, the rye, and
every thing, which has stood the year, or winter
through, appear to have overtaken their like in Old
England.

3 1 . Coldish morning and evening.

June i . Fine warm day ; but, saw a man, in the evening,
covering something in a garden. It was kidney-
beans, and he feared a frost ! To be sure, they are
very tender things. I have had them nearly killed
in England, by June frosts.

2. Rain and warm. — The oaks and all the trees, except
the Flowering Locusts begin to look greenish.

3. Fine and warm. — The Indian Corn is generally
come up ; but looks yellow in consequence of the
cold nights and little frosts. N.B. — I ought here
to describe to my English readers what this same
Indian Corn is : — The Americans call it Corn, by
way of eminence, and wheat, rye, barley and oats,
which we confound under the name of corn, they
confound under the name of gfain. The Indian
Corn in its ripe seed state, consists of an ear, which

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC,

1817.

June 3 is in the shape of a spruce-fir apple. The grains,
each of which is about the bulk of the largest marrow
fat pea, are placed all round the stalk, which goes
up the middle, and this little stalk, to which the seeds
adhere, is called the Corn Cob. Some of these ears
(of which from i to 4 grow upon a plant) are more
than a foot long ; and I have seen many, each of
which weighed more than eighteen ounces, avoir
dupois weight. They are long or short, heavy or
light, according to the land and the culture. I was
at a Tavern, in the village of North Hempstead,
last fall (of 1817) when I had just read, in the Courier
English news-paper, of a Noble Lord who had been
sent on his travels to France at ten years of age, and
who, from his high-blooded ignorance of vulgar
things, I suppose, had swallowed a whole ear of corn,
which, as the newspaper told us, had well-nigh
choaked the Noble Lord. The landlord had just
been showing me some of his fine ears of Corn ; and
I took the paper out of my pocket and read the
paragraph : " What ! " said he, " swallow a whole
ear of corn at once I No wonder that they have
swallowed up poor Old John Bull's substance."
After a hearty laugh, we explained to him, that it
must have been wheat or barley. Then he said, and
very justly, that the Lord must have been a much
greater fool than a hog is. — The plant of the Indian
corn grows, upon an average, to about 8 feet high,
and sends forth the most beautiful leaves, resembling
the broad leaf of the water flag. It is planted in
hills or rows, so that the plough can go between the
standing crop. Its stalks and leaves are the best of
fodder, if carefully stacked ; and its grain is good for
every thing. It is eaten by man and beast in all the
various shapes of whole corn, meal, cracked, and
every other way that can be imagined. It is tossed
down to hogs, sheep, cattle, in the whole ear. The
two former thresh for themselves, and the latter eat
cob and all. It is eaten, and is a very delicious thing,
in its half-ripe, or milky state ; and these were the
" ears of corn " which the Pharisees complained of
the Disciples for plucking off to eat on the Sabbath
day ; for, how were they to eat wheat ears, unless
after the manner of the " Noble Lord " above men
tioned ? Besides, the Indian Corn is a native of
Palestine. The French, who, doubtless, brought it
originally from the Levant, call it Turkish Corn.
The Locusts, that John the Baptist lived on, were not
6

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

June 3. (as I used to wonder at when a boy) the noxious
vermin that devoured the land of Egypt; but the bean,
which comes in the long pods borne by the three-
thorned Locust-tree, and of which I have an abun
dance here. The wild honey was the honey of wild
bees ; and the hollow trees here contain swarms
of them. The trees are cut, sometimes, in winter,
and the part containing the swarm brought and placed
near the house. I saw this lately in Pennsylvania.

4. Fine rain. Began about ten o'clock.

5. Rain nearly all day.

6. Fine and warm. Things grow surprizingly.

7. Fine and warm. Rather cold at night.

8. Hot.

9. Rain all day. The wood green, and so beautiful !
The leaves look so fresh and delicate ! But, the
Flowering Locust only begins to show leaf. It will
by and by, make up, by its beauty, for its shyness,
at present.

10. Fine waim day. The cattle are up to their eyes in
grass.

11. Fine warm day. Like the very, very finest in
England in June.

12. Fine day. And, when I say fine, I mean really
fine. Not a cloud in the sky.

13. Fine and hot. About as hot as the hottest of our
English July weather in common years. Lucerne,
2 \ feet high.

14. Fine and hot ; but, we have always a breeze when
it is hot, which I did not formerly find in Pennsyl
vania. This arises, I suppose, from our nearness
to the sea.

15. Rain all day.

16. Fine, beautiful day. Never saw such fine weather.
Not a morsel of dirt. The ground sucks up all.
I walk about and work in the land in shoes made of
deer-skin. They are dressed white, like breeches-
leather. I began to leave off my coat to-day, and do
not expect to put it on again till October. My
hat is a white chip, with broad brims. Never better
health.

17. Fine day. The partridges (miscalled quails) begin
to sit. The orchard full of birds' nests ; and,
amongst others, a dove is sitting on her eggs in an
apple tree.

1 8. Fine day. Green peas fit to gather in pretty early
gardens, though only of the common hotspur sort.
Mayduke cherries begin to be ripe.

7

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

June 19. Fine day. But, now comes my alarm ! The
musquitoes, and, still worse, the common house-fly,
which used to plague us so in Pennsylvania, and
which were the only things I ever disliked belonging
to the climate of America. Musquitoes are bred in
stagnant water, of which here is none. Flies*: are
bred in filth, of which none shall be near me as long
as I can use a shovel and a broom. They will follow
fresh meat and fish. Have neither, or be very care
ful. I have this day put all these precautions in
practice ; and, now let us see the result.

20. Fine day. Carrots and parsnips, sozvn on the'^rd
and 4th instant, all up, and in rough leaf I Onions
up. The whole garden green in 18 days from the
sowing.

21. Very hot. Thunder and heavy rain at night.

22. Fine day. May-duke cherries ripe.

23. Hot and close. Distant thunder.

24. Fine day.

25. Fine day. White-heart and black-heart cherries
getting ripe.

26. Rain. Planted out cucumbers and melons. I find

I am rather late.

27. Fine day.

28. Fine day. Gathered cherries for drying for winter
use.

29. Fine day.

30. Rain all night. People are planting out their cab
bages for the winter crop.

July i. Fine day. Bought 20 bushels of English salt for
half a dollar a bushel.

2. Fine day.

3. Fine day.

4. Fine day. Carrots, sown 3rd June, 3 inches high.

5. Very hot day. No flies yet.

6. Fine hot day. Currants ripe. Oats in haw. Rye
nearly ripe. Indian corn two feet high. Hay
making nearly done.

7. Rain and thunder early in the morning.

8. Fine hot day. Wear no waistcoat now, except in
the morning and evening.

9. Fine hot day. Apples to make puddings and pies ;
but our housekeeper does not know how to make an
apple-pudding. She puts the pieces of apple
amongst the batter ! She has not read Peter Pindar.

10. Fine hot day. I work in the land morning and
evening, and write in the day in a north room. The
dress is now become a very convenient, or, rather, a
8

CLIMATE, SEASONS, EfC.

1817.

July 10. very little inconvenient affair. Shoes, trowsers,
shirt and hat. No plague of dressing and un
dressing !

11. Fine hot day in the morning, but began to
grow dark in the afternoon. A sort of haze
came over.

12. Very hot day. The common black cherries, the
little red honey cherries, all ripe now, and falling
and rotting by the thousands of pounds weight.
But, this place which I rent is remarkable for
abundance of cherries. Some early peas, sown in
the second week in June, fit for the table. This is
thirty days from the time of sowing. No flies yet !
No musquitoes !

13. Hot and heavy, like the pleading of a quarter-
sessions lawyer. No breeze to-day, which is rarely
the case.

14. Fine day. The Indian corn four feet high.

15. Fine day. We eat turnips sown on the second of
June. Early cabbages (a gift) sown in May.

1 6. Fine hot day. Fine young onions, sown on the
8th of June.

17. Fine hot day. Harvest of wheat, rye, oats and
barley, half done. But, indeed, what is it to do
when the weather does so much !

1 8. Fine hot day.

19. Rain all day.

20. Fine hot day, and some wind. All dry again as
completely as if it had not rained for a year.

21. Fine hot day ; but heavy rain at night. Flies, a
Jew. Not more than in England. My son John,
who has just returned from Pennyslvania, says
they are as great torments there as ever. At a
friend's house (a farm house) there, two quarts of
files were caught in one window in one day ! I do
not believe that there are two quarts in all my
premises. But, then, I cause all wash and slops to
be carried forty yards from the house. I suffer no
peelings or greens, or any rubbish, to lie near the
house. I suffer no fresh meat to remain more than
one day fresh in the house. I proscribe all fish.
Do not suffer a dog to enter the house. Keep all
pigs at a distance of sixty yards. And sweep all
round about once every week at least.

22. Fine hot day.

23. Fine hot day. Sozved Buck-wheat in a piece of very
poor ground.

24. Fine hot day. Harvest (for grain) nearly over.

9

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

July 24. The main part of the wheat, &c. is put into Barns,
which are very large and commodious. Some they
put into small ricks, or stacks, out in the fields, and
there they stand, zvithout any thatching, till they are
wanted to be taken in during the winter, and, some
times they remain out for a whole year. Nothing
can prove more clearly than this fact, the jreat
difference between this climate and that of England,
where, as every body knows, such stacks would be
mere heaps of muck by January, if they were not,
long and long before that time, carried clean of
the farm by the wind. The crop is sometimes
threshed out in the field by the feet of horses, as in
the South of France. It is sometimes carried into
the barn's floor, where three or four horses, or oxen,
going abreast, trample out the grain as the sheaves,
or swarths, are brought in. And this explains to
us the humane precept of MOSES, " not to muzzle
the ox as he treadeth out the grain," which we country
people in England cannot make out. I used to be
puzzled, too, in the story of RUTH, to imagine how
BOAZ could be busy amongst his threshers in the
height of harvest. — The weather is so fine, and the
grain so dry, that, when the wheat and rye are
threshed by the flail, the sheaves are barely untied,
laid upon the floor, receive a few raps, and are then
tied up, clean threshed for straw, without the order
of the straws being in the least changed ! The ears
and butts retain their places in the sheaf, and the
band that tied the sheaf before ties it again. The
straw is as bright as burnished gold. Not a speck
in it. These facts will speak volumes to an English
farmer, who will see with what ease work must be
done in such a country.

25. Fine hot day. Early peas, mentioned before,
harvested, in forty days from the sowing. Not
more flies than in England.

26. Fine broiling day. The Indian Corn grows away
now, and has, each plant, at least a tumbler full of
water standing in the sockets of its leaves, while the
sun seems as if it would actually burn one. Yet
we have a breeze / and, under these fine shady
Walnuts and Locusts and Oaks, and on the fine grass
beneath, it is very pleasant. Woodcocks begin to
come very thick about.

27. Fine broiler again. Some friends from England
here to-day. We spent a pleasant day ; drank
success^to the Debt,[and destruction to the Borough-

10

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

July 27. mongers, in gallons of milk and water. — Not more

flies than in England.

28. Very, very hot. The Thermometer 85 degrees in
the shade ; but a breeze. Never slept better in all
my life. No covering. A sheet under me, and a
straw bed. And then, so happy to have no clothes
to put on but shoes and trowsers ! My window
looks to the East. The moment the Aurora appears,
I am in the Orchard. It is impossible for any
human being to lead a pleasanter life than this.
How I pity those, who are compelled to endure the
stench of cities ; but, for those who remain there
without being compelled, I have no pity.
29. Still the same degree of heat. I measured a water
melon runner, which grew eighteen inches in the
last 48 hours. The dews now are equal to showers ;
I frequently, in the morning, wash hands and face,
feet and legs, in the dew on the high grass. The
Indian Corn shoots up now so beautifully I

30. Still melting hot.

31. Same weather.

August i . Same weather. I take off two shirts a day wringing
wet, I have a clothes-horse to hang them on to dry.
Drink about 20 good tumblers of milk and water
every day. No ailments. Head ahvays clear. Go
to bed by day-light very often. Just after the hens
go to roost, and rise again with them.

2. Hotter and hotter, I think ; but, in this weather we
always have our friendly breeze. — Not a single
musquito yet.

3. Cloudy and a little shattering of rain ; but not
enough to lay the dust.

4' Fine hot day.

5. A very little rain. Dried up in a minute. Planted
cabbages with dust running into the holes.

6. Fine hot day.

7. Appearances forebode rain. — I have observed that,
when rain is approaching, the stones (which are the
rock stone of the country), with which a piazza
adjoining the house is paved, get wet. This wet
appears, at first, at the top of each round stone, and,
then, by degrees, goes all over it. Rain is sure to
follow. It has never missed ; and, which is very
curious, the rain lasts exactly as long as the stones
take to get all over wet before it comes ! The stones
dry again before the rain ceases. However, this
foreknowledge of rain is of little use here ; for,
when it comes, it is sure to be soon gone / and

ii

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

August 7. to be succeeded by a sun, which restores all to
rights.

I wondered, at first, why I never saw any barometers
in people's houses, as almost eveiy farmer has them
in England. But, I soon found, that they would
be, if perfectly true, of no use. Early pears ripe.

8. Fine Rain. It comes pouring down.

9. Rain still, which has now lasted 60 hours. — Killed
a lamb, and, in order to keep it fresh, sunk it down
into the well. — The wind makes the Indian Corn
bend.

10. Fine clear hot day. The grass, which was brown
the day before yesterday, is already beautifully green .
In one place, where there appeared no signs of
vegetation, the grass is two inches high.

11. No heavy rain at night

12. Hot and close.

13. Hot and close.

14. Hot and close. No breezes these three days.

15. Very hot indeed. 80 degrees in a North aspect at
9 in the evening. Three wet shirts to-day. Obliged
to put on a dry shirt to go to bed in.

1 6. Very hot indeed. 85 degrees ; the thermometer
hanging under the Locust trees and swinging about
with the breeze. The dews are now like heavy
showers.

17. Fine hot day. Very hot. I fight the Borough-
villians, stripped to my shirt, and with nothing on
besides, but shoes and trowsers. Never ill ; no
head-aches ; no muddled brains. The milk and
water is a great cause of this. I live on salads, other
garden vegetables, apple-puddings and pies, butter,
cheese (very good from Rhode Island), eggs, and
bacon. Resolved to have no more fresh meat, 'till
cooler weather comes. Those who have a mind to
swallow, or be swallowed by, flies, may eat fresh
meat for me.

18. Fine and hot.

19. Very hot.

20. Very hot ; but a breeze every day and night.—
Buckwheat, sown 23rd July, 9 inches high, and,
poor as the ground was, looks very well.

21. Fine hot day.

22. Fine hot day.

23. Fine hot day. I have now got an English woman
servant, and she makes us famous apple-puddings.
She says she has never read Peter Pindar's account
of the dialogue between the King and the Cottage-

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

August 23. woman ; and yet she knows very well how to get the
apples within side of the paste. N.B. No man
ought to come here, whose wife and daughters
cannot make puddings and pies.

24. Fine hot day.

25. Fine hot day.

26. Fine hot day.

27. Fine hot day. Have not seen a cloud for many
days.

28. Windy and rather coldish. Put on cotton stockings
and a waistcoat with sleeves. Do not like this
weather.

29. Same weather. Do not like it.

30. Fine and hot again. Give a great many apples to
hogs. Get some hazle-nuts in the wild grounds.
Larger than the English : and much about the same
taste.

31. Fine hot day. Prodigious dews.
Sept. i. Fine and hot.

2. Fine and hot.

3. Famously hot. Fine breezes. Began imitating the
Disciples, at least in their diet ; for, to-day, we began
" plucking the ears of corn " in a patch planted in the
garden on the second of June. But, we, in imitation
of Pindar's pilgrim, take the liberty to boil our Corn.
We shall not starve now.

4. Fine and hot. 83 degrees under the Locust-trees.

5. Very hot indeed, but fair, with our old breeze.

6. Same weather.

7. Same weather.

8. Same weather.

9. Rather hotter. We, amongst seven of us, eat about
25 ears of Corn a day. With me it wholly supplies
the place of bread. It is the choicest gift of God to
man, in the way of food. I remember, that ARTHUR
YOUNG observes, that the proof of a good climate is,
that Indian Corn comes to perfection in it. Our
Corn is very fine. I believe, that a wine-glass full
of milk might be squeezed out of one ear. No
wonder the Disciples were tempted to pluck it when
they were hungry, though it was on the Sabbath
day !

10. Appearances for rain ; and, it is time ; for my
neighbours began to cry out, and our rain-water
cistern begins to shrink. The well is there, to be
sure ; but, to pull up water from 70 feet is no joke,
while it requires nearly as much sweat to get it up,
as we get water.
c 13

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

Sept. ii. No rain ; but cloudly. 83 degrees in the shade.

12. Rain and very hot in the morning. Thunder and
heavy rain at night.

13. Cloudy and cool. Only 55 degrees in shade.

14. Cloudy and cool.

15. Fair and cool. Made a fire to write by. Don't
like this weather.

16. Rain, warm.

17. Beautiful day. Not very hot. Just like a fine day
in July in England after a rain.

1 8. Same weather. Wear stockings now and a waist
coat and neck-handkerchief.

19. Same weather. Finished our Indian Corn, which,
on less than 4 rods, or perches, of ground, produced
447 ears. It was singularly well cultivated. It was
the long yellow Corn. Seed given me by my
excellent neighbour, Mr. John Tredwell.

20. Same weather.

21. Same weather.

22. Same weather.

23. Cloudy and hotter.

24. Fine rain all last night and until ten o'clock to-day.

25. Beautiful day.

26. Same weather. 70 degrees in shade. Hot as the
hot days in August in England.

27. Rain all last night.

28. Very fine and warm. Left off the stockings again.

29. Very fine, 70 degrees in shade.

30. Same weather.

October i. Same weather. Fresh meat keeps pretty well now.

2. Very fine ; but, there was a little frost this morning,
which did not, however, affect the late sown Kidney
Beans, which are as tender as the cucumber plant.

3. Cloudy and warm.

4. Very fine and warm, 70 degrees in shade. The
apples are very fine. We are now cutting them and
quinces, to dry for winter use. My neighbours
give me quinces. We are also cutting up and
drying peaches.

5. Very fine and warm. Dwarf Kidney beans very
fine.

6. Very fine and warm. Cutting Buckwheat.

7. Very fine and warm. 65 degrees in shade at 7
o'clock this morning. — Windy in the afternoon.
The wind is knocking down the fall-pipins for us.
One picked up to-day weighed i2j ounces avoir
dupois weight. The average weight is about 9
ounces, or, perhaps, 10 ounces. This is the finest

14

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

October 7. of all apples. Hardly any core. Some none at all.
The richness of the pine-apple without the rough
ness. If the King could have seen one of these in a
dumpling I This is not the New town Pipin, which
is sent to England in such quantities. That is a
winter apple. Very fine at Christmas ; but far
inferior to this fall-pipin, taking them both in their
state of perfection. It is useless to send the trees
to England, unless the heat of the sun and the rains
and the dews could be sent along with the trees.

8. Very fine, 68 in shade.

9. Same weather.

10. Same weather, 59 degrees in shade. A little white
frost this morning. It just touched the lips of the
kidney bean leaves ; but, not those of the cucumbers
or melons, which are near fences.

11. Beautiful day. 61 degrees in shade. Have not
put on a coat yet. Wear thin stockings, or socks,
waistcoat with sleeves, and neckcloth. In New
York Market, Kidney Beans and Green peas.

12. Beautiful day. 70 degrees in shade.

13. Same weather.

14. Rain. 50 degrees in shade. Like a fine, warm,
June rain in England.

15. Beautiful day. 56 degrees in shade. Here is a
month of October I

16. Same weather. 51 degrees in shade.

17. Same weather, but a little warmer in the day. A
smart frost this morning. The kidney beans, cu
cumber and melon plants pretty much cut by it.

18. A little rain in the night. A most beautiful day.
54 degrees in shade. A June day for England.

19. A very white frost this morning. Kidney beans,
cucumbers, melons, all demolished ; but a beautiful
day. 56 degrees in shade.

20. Another frost, and just such another day. Threshing
Buckwheat in field.

21. No frost. 58 degrees in shade.

22. Finest of English June days. 67 degrees in shade.

23. Beautiful day. 70 degrees in shade. Very few
summers in England that have a day hotter than this.
It is this fine sun that makes the fine apples !

24. Same weather precisely. Finished Buckwheat
threshing and winnowing. The men have been
away at a horse-race ; so that it has laid out in the
field, partly threshed and partly not, for five days.
If rain had come, it would have been of no con
sequence. All would have been dry again directly

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

October 24. afterwards. What a stew a man would be in, in
England, if he had his grain lying about out of doors
in this way ! The cost of threshing and winnowing
60 bushels was 7 dollars, il. 1 15. 6d. English money
that is to say, 45. a quarter, or eight Winchester
bushels. But, then, the carting was next to nothing.
Therefore, though the labourers had a dollar a day
each, the expense, upon the whole, was not so great
as it would have been in England. So much does
the climate do !

25. Rain. A warm rain, like a fine June rain in England.
57 degrees in shade. The late frosts have killed,
or, at least, pinched the leaves of the trees ; and they
are now red, yellow, russet, brown, or of a dying
green. Never was any thing so beautiful as the
bright sun, shining through these fine lofty trees
upon the gay verdure beneath.

26. Rain. Warm. 58 degrees in shade. This is the
general Indian Corn harvest.

27. Rain. Warm. 58 degrees in shade. Put on coat,
black hat, and black shoes.

28. Fine day. 56 degrees in shade. Pulled up a
Radish that weighed 12 pounds ! I say twelve,
and measured 2 feet 5 inches round. From com
mon English seed.

29. Very fine indeed.

30. Very fine and warm.

31. Very fine. 54 degrees in shade. Gathered our
last lot of winter apples.

Nov. i. Rain all the last night and all this day.

2. Rain still. 54 degrees in shade. Warm. Things
grow well. The grass very fine and luxuriant.

3. Very fine indeed. 56 in shade. Were it not for
the colour of the leaves of the trees, all would look
like June in England.

4. Very, very fine. Never saw such pleasant weather.
Digging Potatoes.

5. Same weather precisely.

6. A little cloudy, but warm.

7. Most beautiful weather ! 63 degrees in shade.
N.B.— This is November.

8. A little cloudy at night fall. 68 degrees in shade ;
that is to say, English Summer heat all but 7 degrees .

9. Very fine.
10. Very fine.

ix. .Very fine. When I got up this morning, I found the
thermometer hanging on the Locust trees, dripping
with dew, at 62 degrees. Left off my coat again.
16

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

Nov

12. Same weather. 69 degrees in shade.

13. Beautiful day, but cooler.

14. Same weather. 50 degrees in shade. The high-ways
and paths as clean as a boarded floor ; that is to
say, from dirt or mud.

15. Gentle rain. 53 in shade. Like a gentle rain in
May in England.

16. Gentle rain. Warm. 56 in shade. What a
November for an English man to see ! My white
turnips have grown almost the whole of their growth
in this month. The Swedish, planted late, grow
surprisingly now, and have a luxuriancy of appear
ance exceeding any thing of the kind I ever saw.
We have fine loaved lettuce, endive, young onions,
young radishes, cauliflowers with heads five inches
over. The rye fields grow beautifully. They have
been food for cattle for a month, or six weeks, past.

17. Cloudy. Warm.

1 8. Same weather. 55 degrees in shade.

19. Frost, and the ground pretty hard.

20. Very fine indeed. Warm. 55 degrees in shade.

21. Same weather.

22. Cold, damp air, and cloudy.

23. Smart frost at night.

Same. Warm in the day time.

Same ; but more warm in the day.

30. Fine warm and beautiful day ; no frost at night.

57 degrees in shade.

Dec. i. Same weather precisely ; but, we begin to fear the
setting-in of winter, and I am very busy in covering
up cabbages, mangle wurzle, turnips, beets, carrots,
parsnips, parsley, &c., the mode of doing which (not
less useful in England than here, though not so indis
pensably necessary) shall be described when I come
to speak of the management of these several plants.
Fine warm rain. 56 in shade.
TVery fair and pleasant, but frost sufficiently hard
to put a stop to our getting up and stacking
turnips. Still, however, the cattle and sheep
j do pretty well upon the grass which is long and
•s dead. Fatting oxen we feed with the greens of
Ruta Baga, with seme corn (Indian, mind) tossea
down to them in the ear. Sheep (ewes that had
lambs in spring) we kill very fat from the grass.
-No dirt. What a clean and convenient soil !

17

2.

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.
1817.

Dec. 9. Thaw. No rain. We get on with our work again.

10. Open mild weather.

11. Same weather. Very pleasant.

12. Rain began last night.

13. Rain all day.

14. Rain all day. The old Indian remark is, that the
winter does not set in till the ponds be full. It is
coming, then.

15. Rain till 2 o'clock. We kill mutton now. Ewes
brought from Connecticut, and sold to me here at 2
dollars each in July, just after shearing. I sell them
now alive at 3 dollars each from the grass. Killed and
sent to market, they leave me the loose fat for can
dles, and fetch about 3 dollars and a quarter besides.

1 6. Sharp North West wind. This is the cold American
Wind. " A North Wester " means all that can be
imagined of clear in summer and cold in winter. I
remember hearing from that venerable and excellent
man, Mr. BARON MASERES, a very elegant eulogium
on the Summer North Wester, in England. This
is the only public servant that I ever heard of who
refused a proffered augmentation of salary 1

17. A hardish frost.

1 8. Open weather again.

19. Fine mild day ; but began freezing at night-fall.

20. Hard frost.

21. Very sharp indeed. Thermometer down to 10
,jj degrees ; that is to say, 22 degrees colder than

iVil barely freezing.

22. Same weather. Makes us run, where we used to
walk in the fall, and to saunter in the summer. It
is no new thing to me ; but it makes our other
English people shrug up their shoulders.

23. Frost greatly abated. Stones show for wet. It will
come, in spite of all the fine serene sky, which we
now see.

24. A thaw. Servants made a lot of candles from mutton
and beef fat, reserving the coarser parts to make
soap.

25. Rain. Had some English friends. Sirloin of own
beef. Spent the evening in light of own candles,
as handsome as I ever saw, and, I think the very
best I ever saw. The reason is, that the tallow is
fresh, and that it is unmixed with grease, which, and
staleness, is the cause, I believe, of candles running,
and plaguing us while we are using them. What an
injury is it to the farmers in England, that they dare
not, in this way, use their own produce : Is it not a

18

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1817.

Dec. 25. mockery to call a man free, who no more dares turn
out his tallow into candles for his own use, than he
dares rob upon the highway ? Yet, it is only by
means of tyranny and extortion like this, that the
hellish system of funding and of Seat-selling can be
upheld.

26. Fine warm day. 52 degrees in shade.

27. Cold, but little frost.

28. Same weather. Fair and pleasant. The late sharp
frost has changed to a complete yellow every leaf of
some Swedish Turnips (Ruta Baga), left to take their
chance. It is a poor chance, I believe 1

29. Same weather.

30. Rain all day.

31. Mild and clear. No frost.
1818.

Jan. i. Same weather.

2. Same weather.

3. Heavy rain.

4. A frost that makes us jump and skip about like larks.
Very seasonable for a sluggish fellow. Prepared
for winter. Patched up a boarded building, which
was formerly a coach-house ; but, which is not so
necessary to me, in that capacity, as in that of a
fowl-house. The neighbours tell me, that the
poultry will roost out on the trees all the winter,
which, the weather being so dry in winter, is very
likely ; and, indeed, they must, if they have no
house, which is almost universally the case. How
ever, I mean to give the poor things a choice. I
have lined the said coach-house with corn-stalks
and leaves of trees, and have tacked up cedar-boughs
to hold the lining to the boards, and have laid a
bed of leaves a foot thick all over the floor. I have
secured all against dogs, and have made ladders for
the fowls to go in at holes six feet from the ground.
I have made pig-styes, lined round with cedar-
boughs and well covered. A sheep-yard, for a
score of ewes to have lambs in spring, surrounded
with a hedge of cedar-boughs, and with a shed for the
ewes to lie under, if they like. The oxen and cows
are tied up in a stall. The dogs have a place, well
covered, and lined with corn-stalks and leaves.
And now, I can, without anxiety, sit by the fire, or
lie in bed, and hear the North- Wester whistle.

5. Frost. Like what we call " a hard frost " in England.

6. Such another frost at night, but a thaw in the middle
of the day.

19

CLIMATE, SEASONS, E?C.

1818.

Jan. 7. Little frost. Fine warm day. The sun seems loth
to quit us.

8. Same weather.

9. A harder frost, and snow at night. The fowls,
which have been peeping at my ladders for two or
three evenings, and partially roosting in their house,
made their general entry this evening ! They are
the best judges of what is best for them. The
turkeys boldly set the weather at defiance, and still
roost on the top, the ridge, of the roof of the house.
Their feathers prevent their legs from being frozen,
and so it is with all poultry ; but, still, a house must,
one would think, be better than the open air at this
season.

10. Snow, but sloppy. I am now at New York on my
way to Pennsylvania. N.B. — This journey into
Pennsylvania had, for its principal object, an appeal
to the justice of the Legislature of that State for
redress for great loss and injury sustained by me,
nearly twenty years ago, in consequence of the
tyranny of one McKEAN, who was then the Chief
Justice of that State. The appeal has not yet
been successful ; but, as I confidently expect, that
it finally will, I shall not, at present, say any thing
more on the subject. My journey was productive
of much and various observation, and, I trust, of
useful knowledge. But, in this place, I shall do
little more than give an account of the weather ;
reserving for the SECOND PART, accounts of prices
of land, &c., which will there come under their
proper heads.

11. Frost but not hard. Now at New York.

12. Very sharp frost. Set off for Philadelphia. Broke
down on the road in New Jersey.

13. Very hard frost still. Found the Delaware, which
divides New Jersey from Pennsylvania, frozen over.
Good roads now. Arrive at Philadelphia in the
evening.

14. Same weather.

15. Same weather. The question eagerly put to me by
every one in Philadelphia, is " Don't you think
the city greatly improved " They seem to me to
confound augmentation with improvement. It
always was a fine city, since I first knew it ; and
it is very greatly augmented. It has, I believe,
nearly doubled its extent and number of houses
since the year 1799. But, after being, for so long a
time, familiar with London, every other place

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Jan. 15. appears little. After living within a few hundreds
of yards of Westminster Hall and the Abbey Church
and the Bridge, and looking from my own windows
into St. James's Park, all other buildings and spots
appear mean and insignificant. I went to-day to
see the house I formerly occupied. How small !
It is always thus : the words large and small are
carried about with us in our minds, and we forget
real dimensions. The idea, such as it was received,
remains during our absence from the object. When
I returned to England, in 1800, after an absence
from the country parts of it, of sixteen years, the
trees, the hedges, even the parks and woods, seemed
so small ! It made me laugh to hear little gutters,
that I could jump over, called Rivers ! The
Thames was but a " Creek I " But, when, in about
a month after my arrival in London, I went to
Farnham, the place of my birth, what was my sur
prise ! Every thing was become so pitifully small !
I had to cross, in my post-chaise, the long and dreary
heath of Bagshot. Then, at the end of it, to mount
a hill, called Hungry Hill ; and from that hill I
knew that I should look down into the beautiful
and fertile vale of Farnham. My heart fluttered
with impatience, mixed with a sort of fear, to see
all the scenes of my childhood ; for I had learnt
before, the death of my father and mother. There
is a hill, not far from the town, called Crooksbury
Hill, which rises up out of a flat, in the form of a
cone, and is planted with Scotch fir trees. Here
I used to take the eggs and young ones of crows and
magpies. This hill was a famous object in the
neighbourhood. It served as the superlative degree
of height. " As high as Crooksbury Hill " meant,
With us, the utmost degree of height. Therefore,
the first object that my eyes sought was this hill.
/ could not believe my eyes ! Literally speaking, I
for a moment, thought the famous hill removed,
and a little heap put in its stead ; for I had seen in
New Brunswick, a single rock, or hill of solid rock,
ten times as big, and four or five times as high !
The post-boy, going down hill, and not a bad road,
whisked me, in a few minutes to the Bush Inn, from
the garden of which I could see the prodigious sand
hill, where I had begun my gardening works. What
a nothing ! But now came rushing into my mind,
all at once, my pretty little garden, my little blue
smock-frock, my little nailed shoes, my pretty

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Jan. 15. pigeons that I, used to feed out of my hands, the
last kind words and tears of my gentle and tender
hearted and affectionate mother ! I hastened back
into the room ! If I had looked a moment longer,
I should have dropped. When I came to reflect,
zvhat a change I I looked down at my dress. What
a change ! What scenes I had gone through !
How altered my state ! I had dined the day before
at a secretary of state's in company with Mr. Pitt,
and had been waited upon by men in gaudy liveries !
I had had nobody to assist me in the world. No
teachers of any sort. Nobody to shelter me from
the consequence of bad, and no one to counsel me
to good, behaviour. I felt proud. The distinctions
of rank, birth, and wealth, all became nothing in
my eyes ; and from that moment (less than a month
after my arrival in England) I resolved never to
bend before them.

1 6. Same weather. Went to see my old Quaker-friends
at Bustleton, and particularly my beloved friend
JAMES PAUL, who is very ill.

17. Returned to Philadelphia. Little frost and a little
snow.

i8.^| Moderate frost. Fine clear sky.

19. L The Philadelphians are cleanly, a quality which

20. r they owe chiefly to the Quakers. But, after being

21 . J long and recently familiar with the towns in Surrey

and Hampshire, and especially with Guildford,
Alton, and Southampton, no other towns appear
clean and neat, not even Bath or Salisbury, which
last is much about upon a par, in point of cleanliness,
with Philadelphia ; and, Salisbury is deemed a very
cleanly place. Blandford and Dorchester are clean ;
but, I have never yet seen any thing like the towns
in Surrey and Hampshire. If a Frenchman, born
and bred, could be taken up and carried blindfolded
to Guildford, I wonder what his sensations would be,
when he came to have the use of his sight ! Every
thing near Guildford seems to have received an
influence from the town. Hedges, gates, stiles,
gardens, houses inside and out, and the dresses of
the people. The market day at Guildford is a
perfect shozv of cleanliness. Not even a carter
without a clean smock-frock and closely-shaven
and clean-washed face. Well may Mr. Birkbeck,
who came from this very spot, think the people
dirty in the western country ! I'll engage he finds
more dirt upon the necks and faces of one family
22

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Jan. 21. of his present neighbours, than he left behind him
upon the skins of all the people in the three parishes
of Guildford. However, he would not have found
this to be the case in Pennsylvania, and especially in
those parts where the Quakers abound ; and, I am
told, that, in the New England States, the people
are as cleanly and as neat as they are in England.
The sweetest flowers, when they become putrid,
stink the most ; and, a nasty woman is the nastiest
thing in nature.

22. Hard frost. My business in Pennsylvania is with the
legislature. It is sitting at Harrisburgh. Set off
to-day by stage. Fine country ; fine barns ; fine
farms. Must speak particularly of these in another
place. Got to Lancaster. The largest inland town
in the United States. A very clean and good town.
No beggarly houses. All looks like ease and plenty.

23. Harder frost, but not very severe. Almost as cold
as the weather was during the six weeks, continuance
of the snow, in 1814, in England.

24. The same weather continues.

25. A sort of half thaw. Sun warm. HARRISBURGH
is a new town, close on the left bank of the river
SUSQUEHANNAH, which is not frozen over, but has
large quantities of ice floating on its waters. All
vegetation, and all appearance of green, gone away.

26. Mild weather. Hardly any frost.

27. Thaws. Warm. Tired to death of the tavern
at HARRISBURGH, though a very good one. The
cloth spread three times a day. Fish, fowl, meat,
cakes, eggs, sausages ; all sorts of things in
abundance. Board, lodging, civil but not servile
waiting on, beer, tea, coffee, chocolate. Price, a
dollar and a quarter a day. Here we meet altogether :
senators, judges, lawyers, tradesmen, farmers, and
all. I am weary of the everlasting loads of meat.
Weary of being idle. How few such days have I
spent in my whole life !

28. Thaw and rain. My business not coming on, I
went to a country tavern, hoping there to get a room
to myself, in which to read my English papers, and
sit down to writing. I am now at McAllister's
tavern, situated at the foot of the first ridge of
mountains ; or rather, upon a little nook of land,
close to the river, where the river has found a way
through a break in the chain of mountains. Great
enjoyment here. Sit and read and write. My
mind is again in England. Mrs. M'ALLISTER just

23

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Jan. 28. suits me. Does not pester me with questions.
Does not cram me with meat. Lets me eat and
drink what I like, and when I like, and gives mugs
of nice milk. I find, here, a very agreeable and
instructive occasional companion, in Mr. M'ALLis-
TER the elder. But, of the various useful informa
tion, that I received from him, I must speak in the
second part of this work.

29. Very hard frost this morning. Change very sudden.
All about the house a glare of ice.

30. Not so hard. Icicles: on the trees on the neighbouring
mountains like so many millions of sparklings tones,
when the sun shines, which is all the day.

3 1 . Same weather. Two farmers of Lycoming county
had heard that William Cobbett was here. They
modestly introduced themselves. "What a contrast
with the " yeomanry cavalry ! "

Feb. i. Same weather. About the same as a " hard frost "
in England.

2. Same weather.

3. Snow.

4. Little snow. Not much frost. This day, thirty-
three years ago, I enlisted as a soldier. I always
keep the day in recollection.

5. Having been to Harrisburgh on the second, returned
to M'Allister's to-day in a sleigh. The River begins
to be frozen over. It is about a mile wide.

6. Little snow again, and hardish frost.

7. Now and then a little snow. Talk with some hop-
growers. Prodigious crops in this neighbourhood ;
but, of them in the Second Part. What would a
Farnham man think of thirty hundred weight of hops
upon four hundred hills, ploughed between, and the
ground vines fed off by sheep ! This is a very
curious and interesting matter.

8. A real Frost.

9. Sharper. They say, that the thermometer is down
to 10 degrees below nought.

10. A little milder ; but very cold indeed. The River
completely frozen over, and sleighs and foot-
passengers crossing in all directions.

11. Went back again to Harrisburgh. Mild frost.

12. Not being able to bear the idea of dancing attendance,
came to Lancaster, in order to see more of this pretty
town. A very fine Tavern (Slaymaker's) ; room to
myself ; excellent accommodations. Warm fires.
Good and clean beds. Civil but not servile, land
lord. The eating still more overdone than at

24

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Feb. 12. Harrisburgh. Never saw such profusion. I have
made a bargain with the landlord : he is to give me
a dish of chocolate a day, instead of dinner. Frost
but mild.

13. Rain — A real rain, but rather cold.

14. A complete day of rain.

15. A hard frost ; much about like a hard frost in the
naked parts of Wiltshire. — Mr. HULME joined me
on his way to Philadelphia from the city of
Washington.

1 6. A hard frost. — Lancaster is a pretty place. No
fine buildings ; but no mean ones. Nothing splendid
and nothing beggarly. The people of this town
seem to have had the prayer of HAGAR granted them :
" Give me, O Lord, neither poverty nor riches."
Here are none of those poor, wretched habitations,
which sicken the sight at the outskirts of cities and
towns in England ; those abodes of the poor crea
tures, who have been reduced to beggary by the
cruel extortions of the rich and powerful. And,
this remark applies to all the towns of America that
I have ever seen. This is a fine part of America.
Big Barns, and modest dwelling houses. Barns of
stone, a hundred feet long and forty zoide, with two
floors, and raised roads to go into them, so that the
waggons go into the first floor up-stairs. Below are
stables, stalls, pens, and all sorts of conveniences.
Up-stairs are rooms for threshed corn and grain ;
for tackle, for meal, for all sorts of things. In the
front (South) of the barn is the cattle yard. These
are very fine buildings. And, then, all about them
looks so comfortable, and gives such manifest proofs
of ease, plenty, and happiness ! Such is the country
of WILLIAM PENN'S settling ! It is a curious thing
to observe the farm-houses in this country. They
consist, almost without exception, of a considerably
large and a very neat house, with sash windows,
and of a small house, which seems to have been
tacked on to the large one ; and, the proportion they
bear to each other, in point of dimensions, is, as
nearly as possible, the proportion of size between
a Cow and her Calf, the latter a month old. But,
as to the cause, the process has been the opposite
of this instance of the works of nature, for, it is the
large house which has grown out of the small one. The
father, or grandfather, while he was toiling for his
children, lived in the small house, constructed
chiefly by himself, and consisting of rude materials.

2S

CLIMATE, SEASONS, E<TC.

1818.

Feb. 16. The means, accumulated in the small house, enabled
a son to rear the large one ; and, though, when
pride enters the door, the small house is sometimes
demolished, few sons in America have the folly or
want of feeling to commit such acts of filial in
gratitude, and of real self-abasement. For, what
inheritance so valuable and so honourable can a son
enjoy as the proofs of his father's industry and
virtue ? The progress of wealth and ease and
enjoyment, evinced by this regular increase of the
size of the farmers' dwellings, is a spectacle, at once
pleasing, in a very high degree, in itself ; and, in
the same degree, it speaks the praise of the system
of government, under which it has taken place.
What a contrast with the farm-houses in England I
There the little farm-houses are falling into ruins,
or, are actually become cattle-sheds, or, at best,
cottages, as they are called, to contain a miserable
labourer, who ought to have been a farmer, as his
grandfather was. Five or six farms are there now
levelled into one, in defiance of the law : for, there
is a law to prevent it. The farmer has, indeed, a
fine house : but, what a life do his labourers lead !
The cause of this sad change is to be found in the
crushing taxes ; and the cause of them, in the
Borough usurpation, which has robbed the people
of their best right, and, indeed, without which right,
they can enjoy no other. They talk of the augmented
population of England ; and, when it suits the pur
poses of the tyrants, they boast of this fact, as they
are pleased to call it, as a proof of the fostering
nature of their government ; though, just now, they
are preaching up the vile and foolish doctrine of
PARSON MALTHUS, who thinks, that there are too
many people, and that they ought (those who labour,
at least) to be restrained from breeding so fast. But,
as to the fact, I do not believe it. There can be
nothing in the shape of proof : for no actual enum
eration was ever taken till the year 1800. We know
well, that London, Manchester, Birmingham, Bath,
Portsmouth, Plymouth, and all Lancashire and
Yorkshire, and some other countries, have got a vast
increase of miserable beings huddled together.
But, look at Devonshire, Somersetshire, Dorset
shire, Wiltshire, Hampshire, and other counties.
You will there see hundreds of thousands of acres of
land, where the old marks of the plough are visible,
but which have not been cultivated for, perhaps,
26

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Feb. 1 6. half a century. You will there see places, that were
once considerable towns and villages, now having,
within their ancient limits, nothing but a few
cottages, the Parsonage and a single Farm-house.
It is a curious and a melancholy sight, where an
ancient church, with its lofty spire or tower, the
church sufficient to contain a thousand or two or
three thousand of people conveniently, now stands
surrounded by a score or half a score of miserable
mud houses, with floors of earth, and covered with
thatch ; and this sight strikes your eye in all parts
of the five Western counties of England. Surely
these churches were not built without the existence
of a population somewhat proportionate to their
size ! Certainly not ; for the churches are of
various sizes, and, we sometimes see them very
small indeed. Let any man look at the sides of the
hills in these counties, and also in Hampshire, where
downs , or open lands, prevail. He will there see,
not only that those hills were formerly cultivated ;
but, that banks, from distance to distance, were made
by the spade, in older to form little flats for the
plough to go, without tumbling the earth down the
hill ; so that the side of a hill looks, in some sort,
like the steps of a stairs. Was this done without
hands, and without mouths to consume the grain
raised on the sides of these hills ? The Funding
and Manufacturing and Commercial and Taxing
System has, by drawing wealth into great masses,
drawn men also into great masses. London, the
manufacturing places, Bath, and other places of
dissipation, have, indeed, wonderfully increased in
population. Country seats, Parks, Pleasure-gar
dens, have, in like degree, increased in number and
extent. And, in just the same proportion has been
the increase of Poor-houses, Mad-houses, and Jails.
But, the people of England, such as FORTESCUE
described them, have been swept away by the ruth
less hand of the Aristocracy, who, making their
approaches by slow degrees, have, at last, got into
their grasp the substance of the wrhole country.

17. Frost, not very hard. Went back to Harrisburgh.

1 8. Same weather. Very fine. Warm in the middle
of the day.

19. Same weather. — Quitted Harrisburgh, very much
displeased : but, on this subject, I shall, if possible,
keep silence, till next year, and until the People of
Pennsylvania have had time to reflect ; to clearly

27

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

Feb. 19. understand my affair ; and when they do under
stand it, I am not at all afraid of receiving justice
at their hands, whether I am present or absent.
Slept at Lancaster. One night more in this very
excellent Tavern.

20. Frost still. Arrived at Philadelphia along with my
friend HULME. They are roasting an ox on the
Delaware. The fooleries of England are copied
here, and every where in this country, with wonder
ful avidity ; and, I wish I could say, that some of the
vices of our " higher orders,'' as they have the im
pudence to call themselves, were not also imitated.
However, I look principally at the mass of farmers ;
the sensible and happy farmers of America.

21. Thaw and Rain. — The severe weather is over for
this year.

22. Thaw and Rain. A solid day of rain.

23. Little frost at night. Fine market. Fine meat of
all sorts. As fat mutton as I ever saw. How mis
taken Mr. Birkbeck is about American mutton !

24. Same weather. Very fair days now.

25. Went to Bustleton with my old friend, Mr. John
Morgan.

26. Returned to Philadelphia. Roads very dirty and
heavy.

27. Complete thaw : but it will be long before the frost
be out of the ground.

28. Same weather. Very warm. I hate this weather.
Hot upon my back, and melting ice under my feet.
The people (those who have been lazy) are chopping
away with axes the ice, which has grown out of the
snows and rains, before their doors, during the
winter. The hogs (best of scavengers) are very
busy in the streets seeking out the bones and bits
of meat, which have been flung out and frozen down
amidst water and snow, during the two foregoing
months. I mean including the present month. At
New York (and, I think, at Philadelphia also) they
have corporation laws to prevent hogs from being in
the streets. For "what reason, I know not, except
putrid meat be pleasant to the smell of the in
habitants. But, Corporations are seldom the wisest
of law-makers. It is argued, that, if there were no
hogs in the streets, people would not throw out their
orts of flesh and vegetables. Indeed ! What
would they do with those orts, then ? Make their
hired servants eat them ? The very proposition
would leave them to cook and wash for themselves.

28

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.
Feb. 28.

March x.

Where, then, are they to fling these effects of super
abundance ? Just before I left New York for
Philadelphia, I saw a sow very comfortably dining
upon a full quarter part of what appeared to have
been a fine leg of mutton. How many a family in
England would, if within reach, have seized this
meat from the sow ! And, are the tyrants, who have
brought my industrious countrymen to that horrid
state of misery, never to be called to account ? Are
they always to carry it as they now do ? Every
object almost, that strikes my view, sends my mind
and heart back to England. In viewing the ease and
happiness of this people, the contrast fills my soul
with indignation, and makes it more and more the
object of my life to assist in the destruction of the
diabolical usurpation, which has trampled on king
as well as people.

Rain. Dined with my old friend SEVERNE, an

honest Norfolk man, who used to carry his milk

about the streets, when I first knew him, but, who

is now a man of considerable property, and, like a

wise man, lives in the same modest house where he

formerly lived. Excellent roast beef and plum

pudding. At his house I found an Englishman,

and, from Botley too ! I had been told of such a

man being in Philadelphia, and that the man said,

that he had heard of me, " heard of such a gentleman,

but did not know much of him" This was odd ! I

was desirous of seeing this man. Mr. SEVERNE got

him into his house. His name is VERB. I knew

him the moment I saw him ; and, I wondered why

it was that he knew so little of me. I found, that he

wanted work, and that he had been assisted by some

society in Philadelphia. He said he was lame, and

he might be a little, perhaps. / offered him work at

once. No : he wanted to have the care of a farm !

Go," said I, " for shame, and ask some farmers for

work. You will find it immediately, and with

good wages. What should the people in this

country see in your face to induce them to keep

you in idleness. They did not send for you.

You are a young man, and you come from a

country of able labourers. You may be rich if

you will work. This gentleman who is now

about to cram you with roast beef and plum

pudding came to this city nearly as poor as you

are ; and, I first came to this country in no better

plight. Work, and I wish you well ; be idle, and

29

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

March I. " you ought to starve." He told me, then, that he
was a hoop-maker : and yet, observe, he wanted to
have the care of a farm.

N.B. If this book should ever reach the hands of Mr.
RICHARD HINXMAN, my excellent good friend of
Chilling, I beg him to show this note to Mr.
NICHOLAS FREEMANTLE, of Botley. He will know
well all about this VERB. Tell Mr. FREEMANTLE,
that the Spaniels are beautiful, that Woodcocks
breed here in abundance ; and tell him, above all,
that I frequently think of him as a pattern of in
dustry in business, of skill and perseverance and
good humour as a sportsman, and of honesty and
kindness as a neighbour. Indeed, I have pleasure
in thinking of all my Botley neighbours, except the
Parson, who for their sakes, I wish, however, was
my neighbour now : for here he might pursue his
calling very quietly.

2. Open weather. Went to Bustleton, after having
seen Messrs. STEVENS and PENDRILL, and advised
them to forward to me affidavits of what they knew
about OLIVER, the spy of the Boroughmongers.

3. Frost in the morning. Thaw in the day.

4. Same weather in the night. Rain all day.

5. Hard frost. Snow 3 inches deep.

6. Hard frost. About as cold as a hard frost in January
in England.

7. Same weather.

8. Thaw. Dry and fine.

9. Same weather. Took leave, I fear for ever, of my
old and kind friend, JAMES PAUL. His brother and
son promise to come and see me here. I have
pledged myself to transplant 10 acres of Indian
Corn ; and, if I write, in August, and say that it is
good, THOMAS PAUL has promised that he will come ;
for, he thinks that the scheme is a mad one.

10. Same weather. — Mr. VAREE, a son-in-law of Mr.
JAMES PAUL, brought me yesterday to another son-
in-law's, Mr. EZRA TOWNSHEND at BIBERY. Here
I am amongst the thick of the Quakers, whose houses
and families pleased me so much formerly, and
which pleasure is all now revived. Here all is ease,
plenty, and cheerfulness. These people are never
giggling, and never in lozu-spirits. Their minds, like
their dress, are simple and strong. Their kindness
is shown more in acts than in words. Let others
say what they will, I have uniformly found those
whom I have intimately known of this sect, sincere

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

i8i8.

March 10. and upright men ; and I verily believe, that all those
charges of hypocrisy and craft, that we hear against
Quakers, arise from a feeling of envy : envy inspired
by seeing them possessed of such abundance of all
those things, which are the fair fruits of care, in
dustry, economy, sobriety, and order, and which are
justly forbidden to the drunkard, the glutton, the
prodigal, and the lazy. As the day of my coming
to Mr. TOWNSHEND'S had been announced before
hand, several of the young men, who were babies
when I used to be there formerly, came to see
" BILLY COBBETT," of whom they had heard and
read so much. When I saw them and heard them,
" What a contrast," said I to myself, " with the
" senseless, gaudy, upstart, hectoring, insolent, and
" cruel Yeomanry Cavalry in England, who, while
" they grind their labourers into the revolt of starva-
" tion, gallantly sally forth with their sabres, to
" chop them down at the command of a Secretary
" of State ; and, who, the next moment, creep and
" fawn like spaniels before their Boroughmonger
" Landlords ! " At Mr. TOWNSHEND'S I saw a
man, in his service, lately from YORKSHIRE, but an
Irishman by birth. Fie wished to have an oppor
tunity to see me. He had read many of my " little
books." I shook him by the hand, told him he had
now got a good house over his head and a kind
employer, and advised him not to move for one year ,
and to save his wages during that year.
ii. Same open weather. — I am now at Trenton, in New
Jersey, waiting for something to carry me on towards
New York. — Yesterday, Mr. TOWNSHEND sent me
on, under an escort of Quakers, to Mr. ANTHONY
TAYLOR'S. He was formerly a merchant in Phila
delphia, and now lives in his very pretty country-
house, on a very beautiful farm. He has some as
fine and fat oxen as wre generally see at Smithfield
market in London. I think they will weight sixty
score each. Fine farm yard. Everything belonging
to the farm good, but what a neglectful gardener !
Saw some white thorns here (brought from England)
which, if I had wanted any proof, would have clearly
proved to me, that they would, with less care, make
as good hedges here as they do at Farnham in Surrey.
But, in another PART, I shall give full information
upon this head. Here my escort quitted me ; but,
luckily, Mr. NEWBOLD, who lives about ten miles
nearer Trenton than Mr. Taylor does, brought me

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

March u. on to his house. He is a much better gardener, or,
rather, to speak the truth, has succeeded a better,
whose example he has followed in part. But, his
farm yard and buildings ! This was a sight indeed !
Forty head of horn cattle in a yard, enclosed with a
stone wall ; and five hundred merino ewes, besides
young lambs, in the finest, most spacious, best con
trived, and most substantially built sheds I ever saw.
The barn surpassed all that I had seen before. His
house (large, commodious, and handsome) stands
about two hundred yards from the turnpike road,
leading from Philadelphia to New York, and looks
on and over the Delaware which runs parallel with
the road, and has, surrounding it, and at the back
of it, five hundred acres of land, level as a lawn, and
two feet deep in loom, that never requires a water
furrow. This was the finest sight that I ever saw
as to farm-buildings and land. I forgot to observe,
that I saw in Mr. TAYLOR'S service, another man
recently arrived from England. A Yorkshire man.
He, too, wished to see me. He had got some of my
" little books," which he had preserved, and brought
out with him. Mr. TAYLOR was much pleased with
him. An active, smart man ; and, if he follow my
advice, to remain a year under one roof, and save
his wages, he will, in a few years, be a rich man.
These men must be brutes indeed not to be sensible
of the great kindness and gentleness and liberality,
with which they are treated. Mr. TAYLOR came,
this morning, to Mr. NEWBOLD'S, and brought me
on to TRENTON. I am at the stage-tavern, where I
have just dined upon cold ham, cold veal, butter
and cheese, and a peach-pye ; nice clean room, well
furnished, waiter clean and attentive, plenty of
milk ; and charge, a quarter of a dollar ! I thought,
that Mrs. JOSLIN at Princestown (as I went on to
Philadelphia), Mrs. BENLER at Harrisburgh, Mr.
SLAYMAKER at Lancaster, and Mrs. M'ALLISTER,
were low enough in all conscience ; but, really, this
charge of Mrs. ANDERSON beats all. I had not the
face to pay the waiter a quarter of a dollar ; but
gave him half a dollar, and told him to keep the
change. He is a black man. He thanked me.
But, they never ask for any thing. But,
my vehicle is come, and now I bid adieu to
Trenton, which I should have liked better, if I had
not seen so many young fellows lounging about the
streets, and leaning against door-posts, with quids
32

CLIMATE, SEASONS, E?C.

1818.
March n

12.

of tobacco in their mouths, or segars stuck between
their lips, and with dirty hands and faces. Mr.
Birkbeck's complaint, on this score, is perfectly
just.

Brunswick, New Jersey. Here I am, after a ride

of about 30 miles, since two o'clock, in what is called

a Jersey- waggon, through such mud as I never saw

before. Up to the stock of the wheel ; and yet a pair

of very little horses have dragged us through it in

the space of five hours. The best horses and driver,

and the worst roads I ever set my eyes on. This

part of Jersey is a sad spectacle, after leaving the

brightest of all the bright parts of Pennsylvania.

My driver, who is a tavern-keeper himself, would

have been a very pleasant companion, if he had not

drunk so much spirits on the road. This is the great

misfortune of America ! As we were going up a hill

very slowly, I could perceive him looking very hard

at my cheek for some time. At last, he said :

I am wondering, Sir, to see you look so fresh and

so young, considering what you have gone through

in the world " ; though I cannot imagine how

he had learnt who I was. " I'll tell you," said I,

how I have contrived the thing. I rise early, go

to bed early, eat sparingly, never drink any thing

stronger than small beer, shave once a day, and

wash my hands and face clean three times a day,

at the very least." He said, that was too much

to think of doing.

Warm and fair. Like an English first of May in
point of warmth. I got to Elizabeth Town Point
through beds of mud. Twenty minutes too late
for the steam-boat. Have to wait here at the tavern
till to-morrow. Great mortification. Supped with
a Connecticut farmer, who was taking on his
daughter to Little York in Pennsylvania. The rest
of his family he took on in the fall. He has migrated.
His reasons were these : he has five sons, the eldest
19 years of age, and several daughters. Connecticut
is thickly settled. He has not the means to buy
farms for the sons there. He, therefore, goes and
gets cheap land in Pennsylvania ; his sons will assist
him to clear it ; and, thus, they will have a farm
each. To a man in such circumstances, and " born
" with an axe in one hand, and a gun in the other,"
the western countries are desirable ; but not to
English farmers , who have great skill in fine cultiva
tion, and who can purchase near New York or

33

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

March 12. Philadelphia. This YANKEE (the inhabitants of
Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts and
New Hampshire, only, are called Yankees) was
about the age of SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, and, if he
had been dressed in the usual clothes of Sir Francis,
would have passed for him. Features, hair, eyes,
height, make, manner, look, hasty utterance at
times, musical voice, frank deportment, pleasant
smile. All the very fac-simile of him. I had some
early York cabbage seed and some cauliflower seed
in my pocket, which had been sent me from London,
in a letter, and which had reached me at Harris-
burgh. I could not help giving him a little of each.

13. Same weather. A fine open day. Rather a cold
May-day for England. Came to New York by the
steam-boat. Over to this island by another, took
a little light waggon, that whisked me home over
roads as dry and as smooth as gravel walks in an
English bishop's garden in the month of July.
Great contrast with the bottomless muds of New
Jersey ! As I came along, saw those fields of rye,
which were so green in December, now white. Not
a single sprig of green on the face of the earth.
Found that my man had ploughed ten acres of ground.
The frost not quite clean out of the ground. It has
penetrated two feet eight inches. The weather here
has been nearly about the same as in Pennsylvania ;
only less snow, and less rain.

14. Open weather. Very fine. Not quite so warm.

15. Same weather. Young chickens. I hear of no other
in the neighbourhood. This is the effect of my
warm fowl-house ! The house has been supplied
with eggs all the winter, without any interruption.
I am told, that this has been the case at no other
house hereabouts. We have now an abundance of
eggs. More than a large family can consume.
We send some to market. The fowls, I find, have
wanted no feeding except during the snow, or, in
the very, very cold days, when they did not come out
of their house all the day. A certain proof that they
like the warmth.

1 6. Little frost in the morning. Very fine day.

17. Precisely same weather.

1 8. Same weather.

19. Same weather.

20. Same weather. Opened several pits, in which I had
preserved all sorts of garden plants and roots, and
apples. Valuable experiments. As useful in

34

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

March 20. England as here, though not so absolutely ne
cessary. I shall communicate these in another
part of my work, under the head of gardening.

21. Same weather. The day like a fine May-day in
England. I am writing without fire, and in my
waistcoat without coat.

22. Rain all last night, and all this day.

23. Mild and fine. A sow had a litter of pigs in the
leaves under the trees. Judge of the weather by this.
The wind blows cold ; but, she has drawn together
great heaps of leaves, and protects her young ones
with surprising sagacity and exemplary care and
fondness.

24. Same weather.

25. Still mild and fair.

26. Very cold wind. We try to get the sow and pigs
into the buildings. But the pigs do not follow, and
we cannot, with all our temptations of corn and all
our caresses, get the sow to move without them by
her side. She must remain 'till they choose to
travel. How does nature, through the conduct of
this animal, reproach those mothers, who cast off
their new-born infants to depend on a hireling's
breast ! Let every young man, before he marry,
read, upon this subject, the pretty poem of Mr.
ROSCOE, called " the NURSE " ; and, let him also
read, on the same subject, the eloquent, beautiful,
and soul-affecting passage, in Rousseau's " Emile."

27. Fine warm day. Then high wind, rain, snow, and
hard frost before morning.

28. Hard frost. Snow 3 inches deep.

29. Frost in the night ; but, all thawed in the day, and
very warm.

30. Frost in night. Fine warm day.

31. Fine warm day. — As the winter is now gone, let us
take a look back at its inconveniences compared with
those of an English Winter. — We have had three
months of it ; for, if we had a few sharp days in
December, we have had many very fine and without
fire in March. In England winter really begins in
November, and does not end 'till Mid-March.
Here we have greater cold : there four times as much
wet. I have had my great coat on only twice, except
when sitting in a stage, travelling. I have had
gloves on no oftener ; for, I do not, like the Clerks
of the Houses of Boroughmongers, write in gloves.
I seldom meet a waggoner with gloves or great coat
on. It is generally 50 dry. This is the great friend

35

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC,

1818.

March 31. of man and beast. Last summer / wrote home for
nails to nail my shoes for winter. I could find none
here. What a foolish people, not to have shoe-
nails ! I forgot, that it was likely, that the absence
of shoe-nails argued an absence of the want of them.
The nails are not come ; and I have not wanted
them. There is no dirt, except for about ten days
at the breaking up of the frost. The dress of a
labourer does not cost half so much as in England.
This dryness is singularly favourable to all animals.
They are hurt far less by dry cold, than by warm
drip, drip, drip, as it is in England. — There has been
nothing green in the garden, that is to say, above
ground, since December ; but, we have had, all
winter, and have now, white cabbages, green savoys,
parsnips, carrots, beets, young onions, radishes, white
turnips, Swedish turnips, and potatoes : and all these
in abundance (except radishes, which were a few
to try), and always at hand at a minute's warning.
The modes of preserving will be given in another
part of the work. What can any body want more
than these things in the garden way ? However
it would be very easy to add to the catalogue . Apples ,
quinces, cherries, currants, peaches, dried in the
summer, and excellent for tarts and pies. Apples
in their raw state, as many as we please. My own
stock being gone, I have trucked turnips for apples ;
and shall thus have them, if I please, 'till apples
come again on the trees. I give two bushels and a
half of Swedish turnips for one of apples ; and,
mind, this is on the last day of March. — I have here
stated facts, whereby to judge of the winter ; and I
leave the English reader to judge for himself, I
myself decidedly preferring the American winter.
April i . Very fine and warm.

2. Same weather.

3 . Same weather.

4. Rain all day.

5. Rain all day. Our cistern and pool full.

6. Warm, but no sun. — Turkeys begin to lay.

7. Same weather. My first spring operations in
gardening are now going on ; but I must reserve
an account of them for another Part of my work.

8. Warm and fair.

9. Rain and rather cold.

10. Fair but cold. It rained but yesterday, and we are
to-day, feeding sheep and lambs with grain of corn
and with oats, upon the ground in the orchard.

36

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

1818.

April 10. Judge, then, of the cleanness and convenience of
this soil !

11. Fine and warm.

12. Warm and fair.

13. Warm and fair.

14. Drying wind and miserably cold. Fires again in
day-time, which I have not had for some days past.

15. Warm, like a fine May-day in England. We are
planting out selected roots for seed.

1 6. Rain all last night. — Warm. Very fine indeed.

17. Fine warm day. Heavy thunder and rain at night.
The Martins (not swallows) are come into the barn
and are looking out sites for the habitations of
their future young ones.

18. Cold and raw. Damp, too, which is extremely
rare. The worst day I have yet seen during the
year. Stops the grass, stops the swelling of the
buds. The young chickens hardly peep out from
under the wings of the hens. The lambs don't
play, but stand knit up. The pigs growl and squeak ;
and the birds are gone away to the woods again.

19. Same weather with an Easterly wind. Just such a
wind as that, which, in March, brushes round the
corners of the streets of London, and makes the old,
muffled-up debauchees hurry home with acking
joints. Some hail to-day.

20. Same weather. Just the weather to give drunkards
the " blue devils."

21. Frost this morning. Ice as thick as a dollar. —
Snow three times. Once to cover the ground.
Went off again directly.

22. Frost and ice in the morning, A very fine day, but
not warm. Dandelions blow.

23. Sharp white frost in morning. Warm and fine
day.

24. Warm night, warm and fair day. And here I close
my Journal : for, I am in haste to get my manu
script away ; and there now wants only ten days
to complete the year. — I resume, now, the Numbering
of my Paragraphs, having begun my Journal at the
close of PARAGRAPH No. 20.

21. Let us, now, take a survey, or rather glance, at the face,
which nature now wears. The grass begins to afford a good deal tj) \\
for sheep and for my grazing English pigs, and the cows and oxen
get a little food from it. The pears, apples, and other fruit trees,
have not made much progress in the swelling or bursting of their
buds. The buds of the weeping-willow have bursted (for, in spite

37

CLIMATE, SEASONS, ETC.

of that conceited ass, Mr. JAMES PERRY, to burst is a regular verb,
and vulgar pedants only make it irregular), and those of a Lilac,
in a warm place, are almost bursted, which is a great deal better
than to say, " almost bitrst." Oh, the coxcomb ! As if an
absolute pedagogue like him could injure me by his criticisms !
And, as if an error like this, even if it had been one, could have
any thing to do with my capacity for developing principles, and
for simplifying things, which, in their nature, are of great com
plexity ! — The oaks, which, in England, have now their sap in
full flow, are here quite unmoved as yet. In the gardens in general
there is nothing green, while, in England, they have broccoli to eat,
early cabbages planted out, coleworts to eat, peas four or five
inches high. Yet, we shall have green peas and loaved cabbages
as soon as they will. We have sprouts from the cabbage stems
preserved under cover ; the Swedish turnip is giving me greens
from bulbs planted out in March ; and I have some broccoli too,
just coming on for use. How I have got this broccoli I must
explain in my Gardener's Guide : for write one I must. I never
can leave this country without an attempt to make every farmer
a gardener. — In the meat way, we have beef, mutton, bacon,
fowls, a calf to kill in a fortnight's time, sucking pigs when we
choose, lamb nearly fit to kill ; and all of our own breeding, or
our own feeding. We kill an ox, send three quarters and the hide
to market and keep one quarter. Then a sheep, which we use
in the same way. The bacon is always ready. Some fowls
always1 fatting. Young ducks are just coming out to meet the
green peas. Chickens (the earliest) as big as American Partridges
(misnamed quails), and ready for the asparagus, which is just
coming out of the ground. Eggs at all times more than we can
consume. And, if there be any one, who wants better fare than
this, let the grumbling glutton come to that poverty, which
, Solomon has said shall be his lot. And, the great thing of all,
\ is, that here, every man, even every labourer, may live as well as
\ this, if he will be sober and industrious.

22. There are two things, which I have not yet mentioned, and
which are almost wholly wanting here, while they are so amply
enjoyed in England. The singing birds and the flowers. Here are
many birds in summer, and some of very beautiful plumage.
There are some wild flowers, and some English flowers in the best
gardens. But, generally speaking, they are birds without song,
and flowers without smell. The linnet (more than a thousand of
which I have heard warbling upon one scrubbed oak on the sand
hills in Surrey), the sky-lark, the goldfinch, the wood-lark, the
nightingale, the bull-finch, the black-bird, the thrush, and all the
rest of the singing tribe are wranting in these beautiful woods and
orchards of garlands. — When these latter have dropped their
bloom, all is gone in the flowery way. No shepherd's rose, no
honey-suckle, none of that endless variety of beauties that decorate
the hedges and the meadows in England. No daisies, no prim-

38

CLIMATE, SEASONS, EfC.

roses, no cowslips, no blue-bells, no daffodils, which, as if it were
not enough for them to charm the sight and the smell, must have
names, too, to delight the ear. All these are wanting in America.
Here are, indeed, birds, which bear the name of robin, blackbird,
thrush, and goldfinch ; but, alas ! the thing at Westminster has,
in like manner, the name of parliament, and speaks the voice of the
people, whom it pretends to represent, in much about the same
degree that the black-bird here speaks the voice of its namesake
in England.

23. Of health, I have not yet spoken, and, though it will be a
subject of remark in another part of my work, it is a matter of too
deep interest to be wholly passed over here. In the first place,
as to myself, I have always had excellent health ; but, during a
year, in England, I used to have a cold or two ; a trifling sore
throat ; or something in that way. Here, I have neither, though
I was more than two months of the winter travelling about, and
sleeping in different beds. My family have been more healthy
than in England, though, indeed, there has seldom been any
serious illness in it. We have had but one visit from any Doctor.
Thus much, for the present, on this subject. I said, in the second
Register I sent home, that this climate was not so good as that of
England. Experience, observation, a careful attention to real
facts, have convinced me that it is, upon the whole, a better climate ;
though I tremble lest the tools of the Boroughmongers should cite,
this as a new and most flagrant instance of inconsistency. England]
is my country, and to England I shall return. I like it best, and
shall always like it best ; but, then, in the word England, many
things are included besides climate and soil and seasons, and
eating and drinking.

24. In the Second Part of this work, which will follow the first
Part in the course of two months, I shall take particular pains to
detail all that is within my knowledge, which I think likely to be
useful to persons who intend coming to this country from England.
I shall take every particular of the expence of supporting a family,
and show what are the means to be obtained for that purpose, and
how they are to be obtained. My intending to return to England
ought to deter no one from coming hither ; because, I was resolved,
if I had life, to return, and I expressed that resolution before I
came away. But if there are good and virtuous men, who can
do no good there, and who, by coming hither can withdraw the
fruits of their honest labour from the grasp of the Borough tyrants,
I am bound, if I speak of this country at all, to tell them the real
truth ; and this, as far as I have gone, I have now done.

39

CHAPTER II.
RUTA BAGA.

CULTURE, MODE OF PRESERVING, AND USES OF THE RUTA BAGA,
sometimes CALLED THE RUSSIA, AND SOMETIMES THE SWEDISH
TURNIP.

Description of the Plant.

25. IT is my intention, as notified in the public papers, to put into
print an account of all the experiments, which I have made, and
shall make in Farming and in Gardening upon this Island. I,
several years ago, long before tyranny showed its present horrid
front in England, formed the design of sending out, to be pub
lished in this country, a treatise on the cultivation of the root and
green crops, as cattle, sheep, and hog food. This design was
suggested by the reading of the following passage in Mr. CHAN
CELLOR LIVINGSTON'S Essay on Sheep, which I received in 1812.
After having stated the most proper means to be employed in
order to keep sheep and lambs during the winter months, he adds :
' Having brought our flocks through the winter, we come now to
' the most critical season, that is, the latter end of March and the
' month of April. At this time the ground being bare, the sheep
' will refuse to eat their hay, while the scanty picking of grass,
' and its purgative quality, will disable them from taking the
' nourishment that is necessary to keep them up. If they fall
' away their wool will be injured, and the growth of their lambs
* will be stopped, and even many of the old sheep will be carried
' off by the dysentery. To provide food for this season is very
1 difficult. Turnips and Cabbages will rot, and bran they will not
' eat, after having been fed on it all the winter. Potatoes, how-
' ever, and the Swedish Turnip, called Ruta Baga, may be use-
' fully applied at this time, and so, ! think, might Parsnips and
' Carrots. But, as few of us are in the habit of cultivating these
1 plants to the extent which is necessary for the support of a large
' flock, we must seek resources more within our reach." And then
the Chancellor proceeds to recommend the leaving the second
growth of clover uncut, in order to produce early shoots from

40

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

sheltered buds for the sheep to eat until the coming of the natural
grass and the general pasturage.

26. I was much surprised at reading this passage ; having
observed, when I lived in Pennsylvania, how prodigiously the
root crops of every kind flourished and succeeded with only
common skill and care ; and, in 1815, having by that time had
many crops of Ruta Baga exceeding thirty tons, or, about one
thousand five hundred heaped bushels to the acre, at Botley, I formed
the design of sending out to America a treatise on the culture
and uses of that root, which, I was perfectly well convinced,
could be raised with more ease here than in England, and, that
it might be easily preserved during the whole year, if necessary, I
had proved in many cases.

27. If Mr. CHANCELLOR LIVINGSTON, whose public-spirit is
manifested fully in his excellent little work, which he modestly
calls an Essay, could see my ewes and lambs, and hogs and cattle,
at this " critical season " (I write on the 27th of March), with more
Ruta Baga at their command than they have mouths to employ
on it ; if he could see me, who am on a poor exhausted piece of
land, and who found it covered with weeds and brambles in the
month of June last, who found no manure, and who have brought
none ; if he could see me overstocked, not with mouths, but with
food, owing to a little care in the cultivation of this invaluable
root, he would, I am sure, have reason to be convinced, that, if
any farmer in the United States is in want of food at this pinching
season of the year, the fault is neither in the soil nor in the climate.
28. It is, therefore, of my mode of cultivating this root on this
Island that I mean, at present, to treat ; to which matter I shall
add, in another PART of my work, an account of my experiments as
to the MANGEL WURZEL, or SCARCITY ROOT ; though, as will be
seen, I deem that root, except in particular cases, of very inferior
importance. The parsnip, the carrot, the cabbage, are all ex
cellent in their kind and in their uses ; but, as to these, I have
not yet made, upon a scale sufficiently large here, such experi
ments as would warrant me in speaking with any degree of con
fidence. Of these, and other matters, I propose to treat in a
future PART, which I shall, probably, publish towards the latter
end of this present year.

29. The Ruta Baga is a sort of turnip well known in the State
of New York, where, under the name of Russia turnip, it is used
for the Table from February to July. But, as it may be more
of a stranger in other parts of the country, it seems necessary to
give it enough of description to enable every reader to distinguish
it from every other sort of turnip.

30. The leaf of every other sort of turnip is of a yellowish green,
while the leaf of the Ruta Baga is of a blueish green, like the green
of peas, when of nearly their full size, or like the green of a young
and thrifty early Yorkshire cabbage. Hence it is, I suppose, that
some persons have called it the Cabbage-turnip. But the charac-

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

teristics the most decidedly distinctive are these : that the outside
of the bulb of the Ruta Baga is of a greenish hue, mixed, towards
the top, with a colour bordering on a red ; and, that the inside
of the bulb, if the sort be true and pure, is of a deep yellow, nearly
as deep as that of gold.

Mode of saving and of preserving the Seed.

31. This is rather a nice business, and should be, by no means,
executed in a negligent manner. For, on the well attending to
this, much of the seed depends : and, it is quite surprizing how
great losses are, in the end, frequently sustained by the saving
in this part of the business, of an hour's labour or attention. I
one year, lost more than half of what would have been an immense
crop, by a mere piece of negligence in my bailiff as to the seed ;
and I caused a similar loss to a gentleman in Berkshire, who had
his seed out of the same parcel that mine was taken from, and who
had sent many miles for it, in order to have the best in the world.

32. The Ruta Baga is apt to degenerate, if the seed be not saved
with care. We, in England, select the plants to be saved for seed.
We examine wrell to find out those that run least into neck and
green. We reject all such as approach at all towards a whitish
colour, or which are even of a greenish colour towards the neck,
where there ought to be a little reddish cast.

33. Having selected the plants with great care, we take them up
out of the place where they have grown, and plant them in a plot
distant from every thing of the turnip or cabbage kind which is to
bear seed. In this Island, I am now, at this time, planting mine
for seed (ayth March), taking all our English precautions. It is
probable, that they would do very well, if taken out of a heap to be
transplanted, if well selected ; but, lest this should not do well, I
have kept my selected plants all the winter in the ground in my
garden, well covered with corn-stalks and leaves from the trees ;
and, indeed, this is so very little a matter to do, that it would be
monstrous to suppose, that any farmer would neglect it on account
of the labour and trouble ; especially when we consider, that the
seed of two or three turnips is more than sufficient to sow an acre of
land. I, on one occasion, planted twenty turnips for seed, and
the produce, besides what the little birds took as their share for
having kept down the Caterpillars, was twenty-two and a half
pounds of clean seed.

34. The sun is so ardent and the weather so fair here, compared
with the drippy and chilly climate of England, while the birds here
never touch this sort of seed, that a small plot of ground would, if
well managed, produce a great quantity of seed. Whether it
would degenerate is a matter that I have not yet ascertained ; but
which I am about to ascertain this year.

42

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

35. That all these precautions of selecting the plants and trans
planting them are necessary, I know by experience. I, on one
occasion, had sown all my own seed, and the plants had been
carried off by the fly, of which I shall have to speak presently.
I sent to a person who had raised some seed, which I afterwards
found to have come from turnips, left promiscuously to go to
seed in a part of a field where they had been sown. The conse
quence was, that a good third part of my crop had no bulbs : but
consisted of a sort of rape, all leaves, and stalks growing very
high. While even the rest of the crop bore no resemblance,
either in point of size or of quality, to turnips, in the same field,
from seed saved in a proper manner, though this latter was sown
at a later period.

36. As to the preserving of the seed, it is an invariable rule
applicable to all seeds, that seed, kept in the pod to the very time
of sowing, will vegetate more quickly and more vigorously than
seed which has been some time threshed out. But, turnip seed
will do very well, if threshed out as soon as ripe, and kept in a dry
place, and not too much exposed to the air. A bag, hung up in a
dry room, is the depository that I use. But, before being threshed
out, the seed should be quite ripe, and, if cut off, or pulled up,
which latter is the best way, before the pods are quite dead, the
whole should be suffered to lie in the sun till the pods are perfectly
dead, in order that the seed may imbibe its full nourishment,
and come to complete perfection ; otherwise the seed will wither,
much of it will not grow at all, and that which does grow will
produce plants inferior to those proceeding from well-ripened
seed.

Time of Sowing.

37. Our time of sowing in England is from the first to the
twentieth of June, though some persons sow in May, which is still
better. This was one of the matters of the most deep interest
with me, when I came to Hyde Park. I could not begin before
the month of June ; for I had no ground ready. But, then, I
began with great care, on the second of June, sowing, in small
plots, once every week, till the 3Oth of July, In every case the seed
took well and the plants grew well ; but, having looked at the
growth of the plots first sown, and calculated upon the probable
advancement of them, I fixed upon the 2.6th of June for the sowing
of my principal crop.

38. I was particularly anxious to know, whether this country
were cursed with the Turnip Fly, which is so destructive in
England. It is a little insect about the size of a bed flea, and
jumps away from all approaches exactly like that insect. It
abounds sometimes, in quantities, so great as to eat up all the
young plants, on hundreds and thousands of acres, in a single

43

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

day. It makes its attack when the plants are in the seed-leaf :
and, it is so very generally prevalent, that it is always an even
chance, at least, that every field that is sown will be thus wholly
destroyed. There is no remedy but that of ploughing and sowing
again ; and this is frequently repeated three times, and even then
there is no crop. Volumes upon volumes have been written on
the means of preventing, or mitigating, this calamity ; but nothing
effectual has ever been discovered ; and, at last, the only means
of insuring a crop of Ruta Baga in England, is, to raise the plants
in small plots, sown at many different times, in the same manner
as cabbages are sown, and, like cabbages, transplant them : of
which mode of culture I shall speak by and by. It is very singular,
that a field sown one day, wholly escapes, while a field sown the
next day, is wholly destroyed. Nay, a part of the same field, sown
in the morning, will sometimes escape, while the part, sown in the
afternoon, will be destroyed ; and, sometimes the afternoon
sowing is the part that is spared. To find a remedy for this evil
has posed all the heads of all the naturalists and chemists of
England. As an evil, the smut in wheat ; the wiieworm ; the
grubs above-ground and underground ; the caterpillars, green
and black ; the slug, red, black, and grey : though each a great
tormentor, are nothing. Against all these there is some remedy,
though expensive and plaguing ; or, at any rate, their ravages are
comparatively slow, and their causes are known. But, the Turnip
Fly is the English farmer's evil genius. To discover a remedy for,
or the cause of, this plague, has been the object of inquiries,
experiments, analyses, innumerable. Premium upon piemium
offered, has only produced pretended remedies, which have led
to disappointment and mortification ; and, I have no hesitation
to say, that, if any man could find out a real remedy, and could
communicate the means of cure, while he kept the nature of the
means a secret, he would be much richer than he who should dis
cover the longitude ; for about fifty thousand farmers would very
cheerfully pay him ten guineas a year each.

39. The reader will easily judge, then, of my anxiety to know,
whether this mortal enemy of the farmer existed in Long Island.
This was the first question which I put to every one of my neigh
bours, and I augured good from their not appearing to understand
what I meant. However, as my little plots of turnips came up
successively, I watched them as our farmers do their fields in
England. To my infinite satisfaction, I found that my alarms
had been groundless. This circumstance, besides others that I
have to mention by and by, gives to the stock-farmer in America
so great an advantage over the farmer in England, or in any part
of the middle and northern parts of Europe, that it is truly wonder
ful that the culture of this root has not, long ago, become general
in this country.

40. The time of sozving, then, may be, as circumstances may
require, from the 2$th of June, to about the loth of July, as the

44

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

result of my experiments will now show. The plants sown
during the first fifteen days of June grew well, and attained great
size and weight ; but, though they did not actually go off to seed,
they were very little short of so doing. They rose into large and
long necks, and sent out sprouts from the upper part of the bulb ;
and, then, the bulb itself (which is the thing sought after) swelled
no more. The substance of the bulb became hard and stringy ;
and the turnips, upon the whole, were smaller and of greatly
inferior quality, compared with those which were sown at the
proper time.

41. The turnips sown between the i$th and 26th of June, had
all these appearances arid quality, only in a less degree. But,
those which were sown on the 26th of June, were perfect in shape,
size, and quality ; and, though I have grown them larger in
England, it was not done without more manure upon half an acre
than I scratched together to put upon seven acres at Hyde Park ;
but of this I shall speak more particularly when I come to the
quantity of crop.

42. The sowings which were made after the 26th of June, and
before the loth of July, did very well ; and, one particular sowing
on the 9th of July, on 12 rods, or perches, of ground, sixteen and
a half feet to the rod, yielded 62 bushels, leaves and roots cut off,
which is after the rate of 992 bushels to an acre. But this sowing
was on ground extremely well prepared and sufficiently manured
with ashes from burnt earth : a mode of raising manure of which
I shall fully treat in a future chapter.

43. Though this crop was so large, sown on the 9th of July, I
would by no means recommend any farmer, who can sow sooner,
to defer the business to that time ; 'for, I am of opinion, with the
old folk in the West of England, that God is almost always on the
side of early farmers. Besides, one delay too often produces
another delay ; and he who puts off to the 9th may put off to the
1 9th.

44. The crops, in small plots, which I sowed after the gth of
July to the soth of that month, grew very well ; but they regularly
succeeded each other in diminution of size ; and, which is a great
matter, the cold weather overtook them before they were ripe :
and ripeness is full as necessary in the case of roots as in the case
of apples or of peaches.

Quality and Preparation of the Seed.

45. As a fine, rich, loose garden mould, of great depth, and
having a porous stratum under it, is best for every thing that
vegetates, except plants that live best in water, so it is best for the
Ruta Baga. But, I know of no soil in the United States, in which
this root may not be cultivated with the greatest facility. A pure
sand, or a very stiff day, would not do well, certainly ; but I have

E 45

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

never seen any of either in America. The soil that I cultivate is
poor almost proverbially ; but, what it really is, is this : it is a
light loam, approaching towards the sandy. It is of a brownish
colour about eight inches deep ; then becomes more of a red
for about another eight inches ; and then comes a mixture of
yellowish sand and of pebbles, which continues down to the depth
of many feet.

46. So much for the nature of the land. As to its state, it was
that of as complete poverty as can well be imagined. My main
crop of Ruta Baga was sown upon two different pieces. One,
of about three acres, had borne, in 1816, some Indian corn stalks,
together with immense quantities of brambles, grass, and weeds,
of all descriptions. The other, of about four acres, had, when I
took to it, rye growing on it ; but, this rye was so poor, that my
neighbour assured me, that it could produce nothing, and he
advised me to let the cattle and sheep take it for their trouble of
walking over the ground, which advice I readily followed ; but,
when he heard me say, that I intended to sow Russia turnips on
the same ground, he very kindly told me his opinion of the matter,
which was, that I should certainly throw my labour wholly away.

47. With these two pieces of ground I went to work early in
June. I ploughed them very shallozv, thinking to drag the grassy
clods up with the harrow, to put them in heaps and burn them,
in which case I would (barring the fly /), have pledged my life
for a crop of Ruta Baga. It adversely happened to rain, when my
clods should have been burnt, and the furrows were so solidly
fixed down by the rain, that I could not tear them up with the
harrow ; and, besides, my time of sowing came on apace. Thus
situated, and having no faith in what I was told about the dangers
of deep ploughing, I fixed four oxen to a strong plough, and turned
up soil that had not seen the sun for many, many long years.
Another soaking rain came very soon after, and went, at once, to
the bottom of my ploughing, instead of being carried away in
stantly by evaporation. I then harrowed the ground down
level, in order to keep it moist as long as I could ; for the sun now
began to be the thing most dreaded.

48. In the meanwhile I was preparing my manure. There was
nothing of the kind visible upon the place." But, I had the good
luck to follow a person, who appears not to have known much of
the use of brooms. By means of sweeping and raking and scratch
ing in and round the house, the barn, the stables, the hen-roost,
and the court and yard, I got together about four hundred bushels
of not very bad turnip manure. This was not quite 60 bushels to
an acre for my seven acres ; or, three gallons to every square rod.

49. However, though I made use of these beggarly means, I
would not be understood to recommend the use of such means to
others. On the contrary, I should have preferred good and clean
land, and plenty of manure ; but of this I shall speak again, when
I have given an account of the manner of sowing and transplanting.

46

RU?A BAG A CULTURE

Manner of Sowing.

50. Thus fitted out with land and manure, I set to the work of
sowing, which was performed, with the help of two ploughs and
two pair of oxen, on the 25th, 26th, and 27th of June. The
ploughmen put the ground up into little ridges having two furrows
on each side of the ridge ; so that every ridge consisted of four
furrows, or turnings over of the plough ; and the tops of the ridges
were about four feet from each other ; and, as the ploughing was
performed to a great depth, there was, of course, a very deep
gutter between every two ridges.

5i.I took care to have the manure placed so as to be under the
middle of each ridge ; that is to say, just beneath where my seed
was to come. I had but a very small quantity of seed as well as
of manure. This seed I had, however, brought from home,
where it was raised by a neighbour, on whom I could rely, and
I had no faith in any other. So that I was compelled to bestow
it on the ridges with a very parsimonious hand ; not having, I
believe, more than four pounds to sow on the seven acres. It
was sown principally in this manner ; a man went along by the
side of each ridge, and put down two or three seeds in places at
about ten inches from each other, just drawing a little earth over,
and pressing it on the seed, in order to make it vegetate quickly
before the earth became too dry. This is always a good thing to
be done, and especially in dry weather, and under a hot sun.
Seeds are very small things ; and though, when we see them
covered over with earth, we conclude that the earth must touch
them closely, we should remember, that a very small cavity is
sufficient to keep them untouched nearly all round, in which case,
under a hot sun, and near the surface, they are sure to perish,
or, at least, to lie long, and until rain come, before they start.

52. I remember a remarkable instance of this in saving some
turnips to transplant at Botley. The wrhole of a piece of ground
was sown broad-cast. My gardener had been told to sow in beds,
that we might go in to weed the plants ; and, having forgotten
this till after sowing, he clapped down his line, and divided the
plot into beds by treading very hard a little path at the distance of
every four feet. The weather was very dry and the wind very
keen. It continued so for three week* ; and, at the end of that
time, we had scarcely a turnip in the beds, where the ground had
been left raked over ; but, in the paths we had an abundance,
which grew to be very fine, and which, when transplanted, made
part of a field which bore thirty-three tons to the acre, and which,
as a whole field, was the finest I ever saw in my life.

53. I cannot help endeavouring to press this fact upon the
reader. Squeezing down the earth makes it touch the seed in all

47

RUfA BAGA CULTURE

its parts, and then it will soon vegetate. It is for this reason,
that barley and oat fields should be rolled, if the weather be dry ;
and, indeed, that all seeds should be pressed down, if the state
of the earth will admit of it.

54. This mode of sowing is neither tedious nor expensive.
Two men sowed the whole of my seven acres in the three days,
which, when we consider the value of the crop, and the saving in
the after-culture, is really not worth mentioning. I do not think,
that any sowing by drill is so good, or, in the end, so cheap as this.
Drills miss very often in the sowings of such small seeds. How
ever, the thing may be done by hand in a less precise manner.
One man would have sown the seven acres in a day, by just
scattering the seeds along on the top of the ridge, where they
might have been buried with the rake, and pressed down by a
spade or shovel or some other flat instrument. A slight roller
to take two ridges at once, the horse walking in the gutter between,
is what I used to make use of when I sowed on ridges ; and, who
can want such a roller in America, as long as he has an axe and an
auger in his house ? Indeed, this whole matter is such a trifle,
when compared with the importance of the object, that it is not
to be believed, that any man will think it worth the smallest
notice as counted amongst the means of obtaining that object.

55. Broad cast solving will, however, probably, be, in most
cases, preferred ; and, this mode of sowing is pretty well under
stood from general experience. What is required here, is, that
the ground be well ploughed, finely harrowed, and the seeds
thinly and evenly sown over it, to the amount of about two pounds
of seed to an acre ! but, then, if the weather be dry, the seed
should, by all means be rolled down. When I have spoken of the
after- culture, I shall compare the two methods of sowing, the
ridge and the broad-cast, in order that the reader may be the better
able to say, which of the two is entitled to the preference.

After-culture.

56. In relating what I did in this respect, I shall take it for
granted, that the reader will understand me as describing what I
think ought to be done.

57. When my ridges were laid up, and my seed was sown, my
neighbours thought, that there was an end of the process ; for,
they all said, that, if the seed ever came up, being upon those high
ridges, the plants never cculd live under the scorching of the sun.
I knew that this was an erroneous notion ; but I had not much
confidence in the powers of the soil, it being so evidently poor,
and my supply of manure so scanty.

58. The plants, however, made their appearance with great
regularity ; no fly came to annoy them. The moment they were

48

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

fairly up, we went with a very small hoe, and took all but one in
each ten or eleven or twelve inches, and thus left them singly
placed. This is a great point ; for they begin to rob one another
at a very early age, and, if left two or three weeks to rob each other,
before they are set out singly, the crop will be diminished one-
half. To set the plants out in this way was a very easy and
quickly -performed business ; but, it is a business to be left to
no one but a careful man. Boys can never safely be trusted with
the deciding, at discretion, whether you shall have a large crop or
a small one.

59. But now, something else began to appear as well as turnip-
plants ; for, all the long grass and weeds having dropped their
seeds the summer before, and, probably, for many summers,
they now came' forth to demand their share of that nourishment,
produced by the fermentation, the dews, and particularly the sunr
which shines on all alike. I never saw a fiftieth part so many
weeds in my life upon a like space of ground. Their little seed
leaves, of various hues, formed a perfect mat on the ground.
And now it was, that my wide ridges, which had appeared to my
neighbours to be so very singular and so unnecessary, were
absolutely necessary. First we went with a hoe, and hoed the
tops of the ridges, about six inches wide. There were all the
plants, then, clear and clean at once, with an expense of about
half a day's work to an acre. Then we came, in our Botley
fashion, with a single horse-plough, took a furrow from the side
of one ridge going up the field, a furrow from the other ridge
coming down, then another furrow from the same side of the first
ridge going up, and another from the same side of the other
ridge coming down. In the taking away of the last two furrows,
we went within three inches of the turnip-plants. Thus there
was a ridge over the original gutter. Then we turned these
furrows back again to the turnips. And, having gone, in this
manner, over the whole piece, there it was with not a weed alive
in it. All killed by the sun, and the field as clean and as fine as
any garden that ever was seen.

60. Those who know the effect of tillage between growing plants,
and especially if the earth be moved deep (and, indeed, what
American does not know what such effect is, seeing that, without
it, there would be no Indian Corn ?) ; those that reflect on this
effect, may guess at the effect on my Ruta Baga plants, which soon
gave me, by their appearance, a decided proof, that TULL'S
principles are always true, in whatever soil or climate applied.

6.1 . It was now a very beautiful thing to see a regular, unbroken
line of fine, fresh-looking plants upon the tops of those wide
ridges, which had been thought to be so very whimsical and un
necessary. But, why have the ridges so very wide? This
question was not new to me, who had to answer it a thousand
times in England. It is because you cannot plough deep and
clean in a narrower space than four feet ; and, it is the deep and

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

clean ploughing that I regard as the surest means of a large crop,
especially in poor, or indifferent ground. It is a great error to
suppose, that there is any ground lost by these wide intervals.
My crop of thirty-three tons, or thirteen hundred and twenty bushels,
to the acre, taking a whole field together, had the same sort of
intervals ; while my neighbour's, with two feet intervals, never
arrived at two-thirds of the weight of that crop. There is no
ground lost : for, any one, who has a mind to do it, may satisfy
himself, that the lateral roots of any fine large turnip will extend
more than six feet from the bulb of the plant. The intervals are
full of these roots, the breaking of which and the moving of which,
as in the case of Indian Corn, gives new food and new roots, and
produces wonderful effects on the plants. Wide as my intervals
were, the leaves of some of the plants very nearly touched those
of the plants on the adjoining ridge, before the end of their growth ;
and I have had them frequently meet in this way in England.
They would always do it here, if the ground were rich and the
tillage proper. How then, can the intervals be too wide, if the
plants occupy the interval ! And how can any ground be lost if
every inch be full of roots and shaded by leaves ?

62. After the last-mentioned operation my plants remained till
the weeds had again made their appearance ; or, rather, till a new
brood had started up. When this was the case, we went with the
hoe again, and cleaned the tops of the ridges as before. The
weeds under this all-powTerful sun, instantly perish. Then we
repeated the former operation with the one-horse plough. After
this nothing was done but to pull up now and then a weed, which
had escaped the hoe ; for, as to the plough-share, nothing escapes
that.

63. Now, I think, no farmer can discover in this process any
thing more difficult, more troublesome, more expensive, than in
the process absolutely necessary to the obtaining of a crop of
Indian Corn. And yet, I will venture to say, that in any land,
capable of bearing fifty bushels of corn upon an acre, more than a
thousand bushels of Ruta Baga may, in the above described
manner, be raised.

64. In the broad-cast method the after-culture must, of course,
be confined to hoeing , or, as TULL calls it, scratching. In England,
the hoer goes in when the plants are about four inches high, and
hoes all the ground, setting out the plants to about eighteen inches
apart ; and, if the ground be at all foul, he is obliged to go in in
about a month afterwards, to hoe the ground again. This is all
that is done ; and a very poor all it is, as the crops, on the very
best ground, compared with the ridged crops, invariably show.

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

Transplanting.

65. This is a third mode of cultivating the RUTA BAGA ; and,
in certain cases, far preferable to either of the other two. My
large crops at Botley were from roots transplanted. I resorted
to this mode in order to insure a crop in spite of the fly : but, I
am of opinion, that it is, in all cases, the best mode, provided
hands can be obtained in sufficient number, just for a few days,
or weeks, as the quantity may be, when the land and the plants
are ready.

66. Much light is thrown on matters of this sort by describing
what one has done one's self relating to them. This is practice
at once ; or, at least, it comes much nearer to it than any in
structions possibly can.

67. It was an accident that led me to the practice. In the
summer of 1812, I had a piece of Ruta Baga in the middle of a
field, or, rather, the piece occupied a part of the field, having a
crop of carrots on one side, and a crop of Mangel Wurzel on the
other side. On the 2oth of July the turnips, or rather, those of
them which had escaped the fly, began to grow pretty well. They
had been sown in drills ; and I was anxious to fill up the spaces,
which had been occasioned by the ravages of the fly. I, there
fore, took the supernumerary plants, which I found in the un-
attacked places, and filled up the rows by transplantation, which
I did also in two other fields.

68. The turnips, thus transplanted, grew, and, in fact, were
pretty good ; but, they were very far inferior to those which had
retained their original places. But, it happened, that on one side
of the above-mentioned piece of turnips, there was a vacant space
of about a yard in breadth. When the ploughman had finished
ploughing between the rows of turnips, I made him plough up
that spare ground very deep, and upon it I made my gardener go
and plant two rows of turnips. These became the largest and
finest of the whole piece, though transplanted two days later than
those which had been transplanted in the rows throughout the
piece. The cause of this remarkable difference, I at once saw,
was, that these had been put into newly -ploughed ground ; for,
though I had not read much of TULL at the time here referred
to, I knew, from the experience of my whole life, that plants as
well as seeds ought always to go into ground as recently moved as
possible ; because at every moving of the earth, and particularly
at every turning of it, a new process of fermentation takes place,
fresh exhalations arise, and a supply of the food of plants is thus
prepared for the newly arrived guests. Mr. CURWEN, the Member
of Parliament, though a poor thing as to public matters, has

RUfA BAG A CULTURE

published not a bad book on agriculture. It is not bad, because
it contains many authentic accounts of experiments made by him
self ; though I never can think of his book without thinking, at
the same time, of the gross and scandalous plagiarisms, which
he has committed upon TULL. Without mentioning particulars,
the " Honourable Member " will, I am sure, know what I mean,
if this page should ever have the honour to fall under his eye ;
and he will, T hope, repent, and give proof of his repentance, by a
restoration of the property to the right owner.

69. However, Mr. CURWEN, in his book, gives an account of the
wonderful effects of moving the ground between plants in rows ;
and he tells us of an experiment, which he made, and which
proved, that from ground just ploughed, in a very dry time, an
exhalation of many tons weight, per acre, took place, during the
first twenty-four hours after ploughing, and of a less and less
number of tons, during the three or four succeeding twenty-
four hours ; that, in the course of about a week, the exhalation
ceased : and that, during the whole period, the ground, though
in the same field, which hadnot been ploughed when the other ground
was, exhaled not an ounce ! When I read this in Mr. CURWEN 's
book, which was before I had read TULL, I called to mind, that,
having once dug the ground between some rows of part of a plot
of cabbages in my garden, in order to plant some late peas, I
perceived (it was in a dry time) the cabbages, the next morning,
in the part recently dug, with big drops of dew hanging on the edges
of the leaves, and in the other, or undug part of the plot, no drops
at all. I had forgotten the fact till I read Mr. CURWEN, and I
never knew the cause till I read the real Father of English
Husbandry.

70. From this digression I return to the history, first of my
English transplanting. I saw, at once, that the only way to ensure
a crop of turnips was by transplantation. The next year, there
fore, I prepared a field of five acres, and another of twelve. I made
ridges, in the manner described, for sowing ; and, on the 7th of
June in the first field, and on the 2Oth of July in the second field,
I planted my plants. I ascertained to an exactness, that there
were thirty-three tons to an acre, throughout the whole seventeen
acres. After this, I never used any other method. I never saw
above half as great a crop in any other person's land ; and, though
we read of much greater in agricultural prise reports, they must
have been of the extent of a single acre, or something in that way.
In my usual order, the ridges four feet asunder, and the plants a

foot asunder on the ridge, there were ten thousand eight hundred
and thirty turnips on the acre of ground ; and, therefore, for an
acre to weigh thirty-three tons, each turnip must weigh very nearly
seven pounds. After the time here spoken of, I had an acre or
two at the end of a large field, transplanted on the i3th of July,
which probably, weighed fifty tons an acre. I delayed to have
them weighed till a fire happened in some of my farm buildings,

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which produced a further delay, and so the thing was not done at
all ; but, I weighed one waggon load, the turnips of which averaged
eleven pounds each : and several weighed fourteen pounds each.
My very largest upon Long Island weighed twelve pounds and a
half. In all these cases, as well here as in England, the produce
was from transplanted plants ; though at Hyde Park, I have many
turnips of more than ten pounds weight each from sown plants,
some of which, on account of the great perfection in their qualities,
I have selected, and am now planting out, for seed.

7 1 . I will now give a full account of my transplanting at Hyde
Park. In a part of the ground which was put into ridges and sown.
I scattered the seed along very thinly upon the top of the ridge,
But, however thinly you may attempt to scatter such small seeds,
there will always be too many plants, if the tillage be good and the
seed good also. I suffered these plants to stand as they came up ;
and, they stood much too long, on account of my want of hands,
or, rather, my want of time to attend to give my directions in the
transplanting ; and, indeed, my example too ; for, I met not with a
man who knew how to fix a plant in the ground ; and, strange as
it may appear, more than half the bulk of crop depends on a little,
trifling, contemptible twist of the setting-stick, or dibble : a thing
very well known to all gardeners in the case of cabbages, and about
which, therefore, I will give, by and by, very plain instructions.

72. Thus puzzled, and not being able to spare time to do the
job myself, I was one day looking at my poor plants, which were
daily suffering for want of removal, and was thinking how glad
I should be of one of the CHURCHERS at Botley, who, I thought to
myself, would soon clap me out my turnip patch. At this very
time, and into the field itself, came a cousin of one of these
CHURCHERS, who had lately arrived from England ! It was
very strange, but literally the fact.

73. To work Churcher and I went, and, with the aid of persons
to pull up the plants and bring them to us, we planted out about
two acres, in the mornings and evenings of six days ; for the weather
was too hot for us to keep out after breakfast, until about two hours
before sun-set. There was a friend staying with me, who helped
us to plant, and who did, indeed, as much of the work as either
Churcher or I.

74. The time when this was done was from the 2ist to the 28th
of August, one Sunday and one day of no planting, having inter
vened. Every body knows, that this is the very hottest season of
the year ; arid, as it happened, this was, last summer, the very
driest also. The weather had been hot and dry from the loth
of August : and so it continued to the izth of September. Any
gentleman who has kept a journal of last year, upon Long Island,
will know this to be correct. Who would have thought to see
these plants thrive ; who would have thought to see them live ?
The next day after being planted, their leaves crumbled between
our fingers, like the old leaves of trees. In two days there was

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

no more appearance of a crop upon the ground than there was of a
crop on the Turnpike-road. But, on the 2nd of September, as
I have it in my memorandum book, the plants began to show life :
and, before the rain came, on the T2th, the piece began to have an
air of verdure, and indeed, to grow and to promise a good crop.

75. I will speak of the bulk of this crop by and by ; but, I must
here mention another transplantation that I made in the latter
end of July, A plot of ground, occupied by one of my earliest
sowings, had the turnips standing in it in rows at eighteen inches
asunder, and at a foot asunder iri the rows. Towards the middle
of July I found, that one half of the rows must be taken away,
or that the whole would be of little value. Having pulled up the
plants, I intended to translate them (as they say of Bishops) from
the garden to the field ; but, I had no ground ready. However,
I did not like to throw away these plants, which had already bulbs
as large as hens' eggs. They were carried into the cellar, where
they lay in a heap, till (which would soon happen in such hot
weather) they began to ferment. This made the most of their
leaves turn white. Unwilling, still, to throw them away, I next
laid them on the grass in the front of the house, where they got the
dews in the night, and they were covered with a mat during the
day, except two days, when they were overlooked, or, rather,
neglected. The heat was very great, and, at last, supposing these
plants dead, I did not cover them any more. There they lay
abandoned till the 24th of July, on which day I began planting
Cabbages in my field. I then thought, that I would try the hardi
ness of a Ruta Baga plant. I took these same abandoned plants,
without a morsel of green left about them ; planted them in part
of a row of the piece of cabbages ; and they, a hundred and six
in number, weighed, when they were taken up, in December,
nine hundred and one pounds. One of these turnips weighed
twelve pounds and a half.

76. But, it ought to be observed, that this was in ground which
had been got up in my best manner ; that it had some of the best
of my manure ; and, that uncommon pains were taken by myself
in the putting in of the plants. This experiment shows, what a
hardy plant this is ; but, I must caution the reader against a
belief, that 'it is either desirable or prudent to put this quality
to so severe a test. There is no necessity for it, in general ; and,
indeed, the rule is, that the shorter time the plants are out of the
ground the better.

77. But, as to the business of transplanting, there is one very
material observation to make. The ground ought to be AS fresh :
that is to say, as recently moved by the plough, as possible ; and
that for the reasons before stated. The way I go on is this : rny
land is put up into ridges, as described under the head of manner
of sowing. This is done before-hand, several days ; or, it may be,
a week 01 more. When we have our plants and hands all ready,
the ploughman begins, and turns in the ridges ; that is to say,

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

ploughs the ground back again, so that the top of the new ploughed
ridge stands over the place where the channel, or gutter, or deep
furrow, was, before he began. As soon as he has finished the
first ridge, the planters plant it, while he is ploughing the second :
and so on throughout the field. That this is not a very tedious
process the reader needs only to be told, that, in 1816, I had
fifty -two acres of Ruta Baga planted in this way ; and I think I
had more than fifty thousand bushels. A smart hand will plant
half an acre a day, with a girl or a boy to drop the plants for him.
I had a man, who planted an acre a day many a time. But,
supposing that a quarter of an acre is a day's work, what are four
days' work, when put in competition with the value of an acre of
this invaluable root ? And what farmer is there, who has common
industry, who would grudge to bend his own back eight or twelve
days, for the sake of keeping all his stock through the Spring
months, when dry food is loathsome to them, and when grass is
by nature denied ?

78. Observing well what has been said about earth perfectly
fresh, and never forgetting this, let us now talk about the act of
planting ; the mere mechanical operation of putting the plant into
the ground. We have a setting-stick which should be the top of a
spade-handle cut off, about ten inches below the eye. It must
be pointed smoothly ; and, if it be shod with thin iron, that is to
say, covered with an iron sheath, it will work more smoothly, and
do its business the better. At any rate the point should be nicely
smoothed, and so should the whole of the tool. The planting
is performed like that of cabbage-plants ; but, as I have met with
very few persons, out of the market gardens, and gentlemen's
gardens in England, who knew how to plant a cabbage-plant, so
I am led to suppose, that very few, comparatively speaking, know
how to plant a turnip-plant.

79. You constantly hear people say, that they wait for a shower,
in order to put out their cabbage-plants. Never was there an
error more general or more complete in all its parts. Instead of
rainy weather being the best time, it is the very worst time, for
this business of transplantation, whether of cabbages or of any
thing else, from a lettuce-plant to an apple-tree. I have proved
the fact, in scores upon scores of instances. The first time that
I had any experience of the matter was in the planting out of a
plot of cabbages in my garden at Wilmington in Delaware. I
planted in dry weather, and, as I had always done, in such cases, I
watered the plants heavily ; but, being called away for some pur
pose, I left one row unwatered, and it happened, that it so con
tinued without my observing it till the next day. The sun had so
completely scorched it by the next night, that when I repeated my
watering of the rest, I left it, as being unworthy of my care, in
tending to plant some other thing in the ground occupied by this
dead row. But, in a few days, I saw, that it was not dead. It
grew soon afterwards ; and, in the end, the cabbages of my dead

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RUfA BAG A CULTURE

row were not only larger, but earlier in leaving, than any of the
rest of the plot.

8p. The reason is this : if plants are put into wet earth, the
setting-stick squeezes the earth up against the tender fibres in a
mortar-like state. The sun comes and bakes this mortar into a
sort of glazed clod. The hole made by the stick is also a smooth
sided hole, which retains its form, and presents, on every side, an
impenetrable substance to the fibres. In short, such as the hole
is made, such it, in a great measure, remains, and the roots are
cooped up in this sort of well, instead of having a free course left
them to seek their food on every side. Besides this, the fibres get,
from being wet when planted, into a small compass. They all
cling about the tap root, and are stuck on to it by the wet dirt ;
in which state, if a hot sun follow, they are all baked together in a
lump, and cannot stir. On the contrary, when put into ground
unwet, the reverse of all this takes place ; and the fresh earth will,
under any sun, supply moisture in quantity sufficient.

81. Yet, in July and August, both in England and America,
how many thousands and thousands are waiting for a shoiver to
put out their plants ! And then, when the long-wished-for
shower comes, they must plant upon stale ground, for they have
it dug ready, as it were, for the purpose of keeping them company
in waiting for the shower. Thus all the fermentations which
took place upon the digging, is gone ; and, when the planting has
once taken place, farewell to the spade ! For, it appears to be a
privilege of the Indian corn to receive something like good usage
after being planted. It is very strange that it should have been
thus, for what reason is there for other plants not enjoying a
similar benefit ? The reason is, that they will produce something
without it ; and the Indian corn will positively produce nothing ;
for which the Indian corn is very much to be commended. As
an instance of this effect of deeply moving the earth between
growing crops, I will mention, that, in the month of June, and
on the a6th of that month, a very kind neighbour of mine, in
whose garden I was, showed me a plot of Green Savoy Cabbages,
which he had planted in some ground as rich as ground could be.
He had planted them about three weeks before ; and they ap
peared very fine indeed. In the seed bed, from which he had taken
his plants, there remained about a hundred : but, as they had been
left as of no use, they had drawn each other up, in company with
the weeds, till they were about eighteen inches high, having only
a starved leaf or two upon the top of each. I asked my neighbour
to give me these plants, which he readily did ; but begged me
not to plant them, for, he assured me, that they would come to
nothing. Indeed, they were a ragged lot ; but, I had no plants
of my own sowing more than two inches high. I, therefore, took
these plants and dug some ground for them between some rows
of scarlet blossomed beans, which mount upon poles. I cut a
stick on purpose, and put the plants very deep into the ground.

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

My beans came off in August, and then the ground was well dug
between the rows of cabbages. In September, mine had far
surpassed the prime plants of my neighbour. And, in the end
I believe, that ten of my cabbages would have weighed a hundred
of his, leaving out the stems in both cases. But, his had remained
uncultivated after planting. The ground, battered down by
successive rains, had become hard as a brick. All the stores of
food had been locked up, and lay in a dormant state. There had
been no renewed fermentations, and no exhalations.

82. Having now said what, I would fain hope, will convince
every reader of the folly of waiting for a shower in order to trans
plant plants of any sort, I will now speak of the mere act of plant
ing, more particularly than I have hitherto spoken.

83. The hole is made sufficiently deep ; deeper than the length
of the root does really require ; but, the root should not be bent
Sit the point, if it can be avoided. Then, while one hand holds
the plant, with its root in the hole, the other hand applies the
setting-stick to the earth on one side of the hole, the stick being
held in such a way as to form a sharp triangle with the plant.
Then pushing the stick down, so that its point goes a little deeper
than the point of the root, and giving it a little twist, it presses the
earth against the point, or bottom of the root. And thus all is safe,
and the plant is sure to grow.

84. The general, and almost universal fault, is, that the planter,
when he has put the root into the hole, draws the earth up against
the upper part of the root, or stem, and, if he presses pretty well
there, he thinks that the planting is well done. But, it is the point
of the root, against which the earth ought to be pressed, for there
the fibres are ; and, if they do not touch the earth closely, the plant
will not thrive. The reasons have been given in paragraphs 51
and 52, in speaking of the sowing of seeds. It is the same in all
cases of transplanting or planting. Trees, for instance, will be
sure to grow, if you sift the earth, or pulverize it very finely, and
place it carefully and closely about the roots. When we plant a
tree, we see all covered by tumbling in the earth ; and, it appears
whimsical to suppose, that the earth does not touch all the roots.
But, the fact is, that unless great pains be taken, there will be
many cavities in the hole where the tree is planted ; and, in what
ever places the earth does not closely touch the root, the root will
mould, become cankered, and will lead to the producing of a
poor tree.

85. When I began transplanting in fields in England, I had
infinite difficulty in making my planters attend to the directions,
which I have here given. " The point of the stick to the point of
the root ! " was my constant cry. As I could not be much with
my work-people, I used, iri order to try whether they had planted
properly, to go after them, and now-and-then take the tip of a leaf
between my finger and thumb. If the plant resisted the pull, so
as for the bit of leaf to come away, I was sure that the plant was

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well fixed ; but, if the pull brought up the plant out of the ground ;
then I was sure, that the planting was not well done. After the
first field or two, I had no trouble. My work was as well done,
as if the whole had been done by myself. My planting was done
chiefly by young women, each of whom would plant half an acre
a day, and their pay was ten pence sterling a day. What a shame,
then, for any man to shrink at the trouble and labour of such a
matter. Nor, let it be imagined, that these young women were
poor, miserable, ragged, squalid creatures. They were just the
contrary. On a Sunday they appeared in their white dresses, and
with silk umbrellas over their heads. Their constant labour
afforded the means of dressing well, their early rising and exercise
gave them health, their habitual cleanliness and neatness, for which
the women of the South of England are so justly famed, served
to aid in the completing of their appearance, which was that of
fine rosy-cheeked country-girls, fit to be the helpmates, and net
the burdens, of their future husbands.

86. But, at any rate, what can be said for a man that thinks too
much of such a piece of labour ? The earth is always grateful ;
but it must and will have something to be grateful for. As far
as my little experience has enabled me to speak, I find no want
of willingness to learn in any of the American workmen. Ours,
in England, are apt to be very obstinate, especially if getting a little
old. They do not like to be taught any thing. They say, and
they think, that what their fathers did was best. To tell them,
that it was your affair, and not theirs, is nothing. To tell them,
that the loss, if any, will fall upon you, and not upon them, has
very little weight. They argue, that, they being the real doers,
ought to be the best judges of the mode of doing. And, indeed,
in most cases, they are, and go about this work with wonderful
skill and judgment. But, then, it is so difficult to induce them
cordially to do any thing new, or any old thing in a new way : and
the abler they are as workmen, the more untractable they are,
and the more difficult to be persuaded that any one knows any
thing, relating to farming affairs, better than they do. It was this
difficulty that made me resort to the employment of young women
in the most important part of my farming, the providing of im
mense quantities of cattle-food. But, I do not find this difficulty
here, where no workmen are obstinate, and where, too, all one's
neighbours rejoice at one's success, which is by no means the case
amongst the farmers in England.

87. Having now given instructions relative to the business of
transplanting of the Ruta Baga, let us see, whether it be not pre
ferable to either the ridge - sowing method, or the broadcast
method.

88. In the first place, when the seed is sown on the ground
where the plants are to come to perfection, the ground, as we have
seen in paragraph 40 and paragraph 47, must be prepared early
in June, at the latest ; but, in the transplanting method, this work

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may be put off, if need be, till early in August, as we have seen in
paragraphs 74 and 75. However, the best time for transplanting
is about the 26th of July, and this gives a month for preparation
of land, more than is allowed in the sowing methods. This, of
itself, is a great matter ; but, there are others of far greater
importance.

89. This transplanted crop may follow another crop on the same
land. Early cabbages will loave and be away ; early peas will be
ripe and off ; nay, even wheat, and all grain, except buck-wheat,
may be succeeded by Ruta Baga transplanted. I had crops to
succeed Potatoes, Kidney Beans, White Peas, Onions, and even
Indian Corn, gathered to eat green ; and, the reader will please
to bear in mind, that I did not sow, or plant, any of my first crops,
just mentioned, till the month of June. What might a man do,
then, who is in a state to begin with his first crops as soon as he
pleases ? Who has his land all in order, and his manure ready to
be applied.

90. Another great advantage of the transplanting method is,
that it saves almost the whole of the after-culture. There is no
hoeing : no thinning of the plants ; and not more than one plough
ing between the ridges. This is a great consideration, and should
always be thought of, when we are talking of the trouble of trans
planting. The turnips which I have mentioned in paragraphs
72 and 73 had no after-culture of any sort ; for they soon spread
the ground over with their leaves ; and, indeed, after July, very
few weeds made their appearance. The season for their coming
up is passed ; and, as every farmer well knows, if there be no
weeds up at the end of July, very few will come that summer.

91. Another advantage of the transplanting method is, that you
are sure that you have your right number of plants, and those
regularly placed. For, in spite of all you can do in sowing, there
will be deficiencies and irregularities. The seed may not come
up, in some places. The plants may, in some places, be destroyed
in their infant state. They may now and then, be cut off with
the hoe. The best plants may sometimes be cut up, and the
inferior plants left to grow. And, in the broadcast method, the
irregularity and uncertainty must be obvious to every one. None
of these injurious consequences can arise in the transplanting
method. Here, when the work is once well done, the crop is
certain, and all cares are at an end.

92. In taking my leave of this part of my treatise, I must observe,
that it is useless, and, indeed, unjust, for any man to expect
success, unless he attend to the thing himself, at least, till he has
made the matter perfectly familiar to his work-people. To
neglect any part of the business is, in fact, to neglect the whole ;
just as much as neglecting to put up one of the sides of a building,
is to neglect the whole building. Were it a matter of trifling
moment, personal attention might be dispensed with ; but, as
I shall, I think, clearly show, this is a matter of very great moment

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to every farmer. The object is, not merely to get roots, but to
get them of a large size : for, as I shall show, there is an amazing
difference in this. And, large roots are not to be gotten without
care, which, by the by, costs nothing. Besides, the care bestowed
in obtaining this crop, removes all the million of cares and vexa
tions of the Spring months, when bleatings everlasting din the
farmer almost out of his senses, and make him ready to knock the
brains out of the clamourous flock, when he ought to feel pleasure
in the filling of their bellies.

93. Having now done with the different modes of cropping
the ground with Ruta Baga, I will, as I proposed in paragraph 49,
speak about the preparation of the land generally : and in doing
this, I shall suppose the land to have borne a good crop of wheat
the preceding year, and, of course, to be in good heart, as we call
it in England.

94. I would plough this ground in the fall into ridges four feet
asunder. The ploughing should be very deep, and the ridges well
laid up. In this situation it would, by the successive frosts and
thaws, be shaken and broken fine as powder by March or April.
In April, it should be turned back ; always ploughing deep, A
crop of weeds would be well set upon it by the first of June, when
they should be smothered by another turning back. Then, about
the third week in June, I would carry in my manure, and fling it
along on the trenches or furrows. After this I would follow the
turning back for the sowing, as is directed in paragraph 50. Now,
here are four ploughings. And what is the cost of these ploughings ?
My man, a black man, a native of this Island, ploughs, with his
pair of oxen and rio driver, an acre and a half a day, and his oxen
keep their flesh extremely well upon the refuse of the Ruta Baga
which I send to market. What is the cost then ? And, what a
fine state the grass is thus brought into ! A very different thing
indeed is it to plough hard ground, from what it is to plough
ground in this fine, broken state. Besides, every previous
ploughing, especially deep ploughing, is equal to a seventh part
of an ordinary coat of manure.

95. In the broad-cast method I would give the same number of
previous ploughings, and at the same seasons of the year. I
would spread the manure over the ground just before I ploughed
it for sowing. Then, when I ploughed for the sowing, I would
if I had only one pair of oxen, plough about half an acre, harrow
the ground, sow it immediately, and roll it with a light roller,
which a little horse might draw, in order to press the earth about
the seeds, and cover them too. There need be no harrowing after
sowing. We never do it in England. The roller does all very
completely, and the sowing upon the fresh earth will, under any
sun, furnish the moisture sufficient. I once sowed, on ridges,
with a BENNETT'S drill, and neither harrowed nor rolled nor used
any means at all of covering the seeds ; and yet I had plenty of
plants and a very fine crop of turnips. I sowed a piece of white

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turnips, broad-cast, at Hyde Park, last summer, on the eleventh
of August, which did very well, though neither harrowed nor
rolled after being sown. But, in both these cases, there came rain
directly after the sowing, which battered down the seeds ; and
which rain, indeed, it was, which prevented the rolling ; for, that
cannot take place when the ground is wet : because, then, the
earth will adhere to the roller, which will go on growing in size
like a rolling snow-ball. To harrow after the sowing is sure to do
mischief. We always bury seeds too deep : and, in the operation
of harrowing, more than half the seeds of turnips must be
destroyed, or rendered useless. If a seed lies beyond the proper
depth, it will either remain in a quiescent state, until some move
ment of the earth bring it up to the distance from the surface,
which will make it vegetate, or, it will vegetate, and come up
later than the rest of the plants. It will be feebler also ; and it will
never be equal to a plant, which has come from a seed near the
surface.

96. Before I proceed further, it may not be amiss to say some
thing more respecting the burying of seed, though it may here be
rather out of place. Seeds buried below their proper depth, do
not come up : but, many of them are near enough to the surface,
sometimes, to vegetate, without coming up ; and then they die.
This is the case, in many instances, with more than one half of the
seed that is sown. But, if seeds be buried so deep, that they do
not even vegetate, then they do not die ; and this is one cause,
though not the only cause, of our wondering to see weeds come
up, where we are sure that no seeds have fallen for many years.
At every digging, or even ploughing, more or less of the seeds,
that have formerly been buried, come up near the surface ; and
then they vegetate. I have seen many instances in proof of this
fact ; but, the particular instance, on which I found the positive-
ness of my assertion, was in Parsnip seed. It is a very delicate
seed. It will, if beat out, keep only one year. I had a row of fine
seed parsnips in my garden, many of the seeds of which fell in the
gathering. The ground was dug in the fall ; and, when I saw
it full of parsnips in the Spring, I only regarded this as a proof,
that parsnips might be sown in the fall, though I have since proved,
that it is a very bad practice. The ground was dug again, and
again for several successive years ; and there was always a crop
of parsnips, without a grain of seed ever having been sown on it.
But lest any one should take it into his head, that this is a most
delightful way of saving the trouble of sowing, I ought to state,
that the parsnips coming thus at random, gave me a great deal
more labour, than the same crop would have given me in the
regular way of sowing. Besides, the fall is not the time to sow,
as my big and white parsnips, now selling in New York market,
may clearly show ; seeing that they were sown in June I And
yet, people are flocking to the Western Countries in search of rich
land, while thousands of acres of such land as I occupy are lying
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RUfA BAG A CULTURE

waste in Long Island, within three hours drive of the all-consuming
and incessantly increasing city of New York !

97. I have now spoken of the preparation of the land for the
reception of seeds. As to the preparation in the case of trans
plantation , it might be just the same as for the sowing on ridges.
But here might, in this case, be one more previous ploughing,
always taking care to plough in dry weather, which is an observa
tion I ought to have made before.

98. But, why should not the plants, in this case, succeed some
other good crop, as mentioned before ? I sowed some early peas
(brought from England) on the 2nd of June. I harvested them,
quite ripe and hard, on the 3ist of July ; and I had very fine Ruta
Baga, some weighing six pounds each, after the peas. How little
is known of the powers of this soil and climate ! My potatoes
were of the kidney sort, which, as every one knows, is not an early
sort. They were planted on the 2nd of June ; and they were
succeeded by a most abundant crop of Ruta Baga. And, the
manure for the peas and potatoes served for the Ruta Baga also.
In surveying my crops and feeling grateful to the kind earth and
the glorious sun that produce these, to me, most delightful objects,
how often have I turned, with an aching heart, towards the ill-
treated Englishmen, shut up in dungeons by remorseless tyrants,
while not a word had been uttered in their defence by, and while
they were receiving not one cheering visit, or comforting word from
SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, who had been the great immediate cause
of their incarceration !

99. As to the quantity and sort of manure to be used in general,
it may be the same as for a sowing of rye, or of wheat. I should
prefer ashes : but, my large crops in England were on yard-dung,
first thrown into a heap, and afterwards turned once or twice, in the
usual manner as practised in England. At Hyde Park I had
nothing but rakings up about the yard, barn, &c., as described
before. What I should do, and what I shall do this year, is, to
make ashes out of dirt, or earth, of any sort, not very stony.
Nothing is so easy as this, especially in this fine climate. I
see people go with their waggons five miles for soaper's ashes :
that is to say, spent ashes, which they purchase at the landing
place (for they come to the island in vessels) at the rate of about
five dollars for forty bushels. Add the expense of land-carriage,
and the forty bushels do not cost less than ten dollars. I am of
opinion, that, by the burning of earth, as much manure may be
got upon land for half a dollar. I made an experiment last
summer, which convinces me, that, if the spent ashes be received
as a gift at three miles distance of land-carriage, they are not a gift
worth accepting. But, this experiment was upon a small scale ;
and, therefore, I will not now speak positively on the subject.

100. I am now preparing to make a perfect trial of these ashes.
I have just ploughed up a piece of ground, in which, a few years
ago, Indian Corn was planted, and produced, as I am assured,

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only stalks, and those not more than two feet high. The ground
has, every year since, borne a crop of weeds, rough grass, and
briars, or brambles. The piece is about ten acres. I intend to
have Indian corn on it ; and, my manure shall be made on the spot,
and consist of nothing but burnt earth. If I have a decent crop
of Indian corn on this land so manured, it will, I think, puzzle
my good neighbours to give a good reason for their going five
miles for spent ashes.

101. Whether I succeed, or not, I will give an account of my
experiment. This I know, that I, in the year 1815, burnt ashes,
in one heap, to the amount of about tzvo hundred English cart
loads, each load holding about forty bushels. I should not sup
pose, that the burning cost me more than five dollars : and there
they were upon the spot, in the very field, where they were used.
As to their effect, I used them for the transplanted Ruta Baga and
Mangel Wurzel, and they produced full as great an effect as the
yard-dung used on the same land. This process of burning-
earth into ashes, without suffering the smoke to escape, during any
part of the process, is a discovery of Irish origin. It was pointed
out to me by Mr. WILLIAM GAUNTLETT of Winchester, late a
Commissary with the army in Spain. To this gentleman I also
owe, England owes, and I hope America will owe, the best sort
of hogs, that are, I believe, in the world. I was wholly unac
quainted with Mr. GAUNTLETT, till the summer of 1815, when,
happening to pass by my farm, he saw my hogs, cows, &c., and,
when he came to my house he called, and told me, that he had
observed, that I wanted only a good sort of hogs, to make my stock
complete. I thought, that I already had the finest in England ;
and I certainly had a very fine breed, the father of which, with
legs not more than about six inches long, weighed, when he was
killed, twenty-seven score, according to our Hampshire mode of
stating hog-meat weight ; or, five hundred and forty pounds. This
breed has been fashioned by Mr. WOODS of Woodmancut in
Sussex, who has been, I believe, more than twenty years about it.
I thought it perfection itself ; but, I was obliged to confess, that
Mr. GAUNTLETT'S surpassed it.

102. Of the earth burning I will give an account in my next
PART of this work. Nothing is easier of performance ; and the
materials are every where to be found.

103. I think that I have now pretty clearly given an account
of the modes of sowing, and planting, and cultivating the Ruta
Baga, and of the preparation of the land. It remains for me to
speak of the time and manner of harvesting, the quantity of the crop
and of the uses of, and the mode of applying the crop.

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

Time and Manner of Harvesting.

104. This must depend, in some measure, upon the age of the
turnip ; for, some will have their full growth earlier than others,
that is to say, those, which are sown first, or transplanted first
will be ripe before those which are sown, or transplanted latest.
I have made ample experiments as to this matter ; and I will, as
in former cases, first relate what I did : and then give rny opinion
as to what ought to be done.

105. This was a concern in which I could have no knowledge
last fall, never having seen any turnips harvested in America, and
knowing, that, as to American frosts, English experience was only
likely to mislead ; for, in England, we leave the roots standing in
the ground all the winter, where we feed them off with sheep,
which scoop them out to the very bottom ; or we pull them as we
want them, and bring them in to give to fatting oxen, to cows,
or hogs. I had a great opinion of the hardiness of the Ruta Baga,
and was resolved to try it here, and I did try it upon too large a
scale.

1 06. I began with the piece, the first mentioned in paragraph
46 : a part of them were taken up on the 13^/2 of December, after
we had had some pretty hard frosts. The manner of doing the
work was this. We took up the turnips merely by pulling them.
The greens had been cut off and given to cattle before. It
required a spade, however, just to loosen them along the ridges,
into which their tap-roots had descended very deeply. We dug
holes at convenient distances, of a square form, and about a foot
deep. We put into each hole about fifty bushels of turnips, piling
them up above the level of the surface of the land, in a sort of
pyramidical form. When the heap was made, we scattered over
it about a truss of rye-straw, and threw earth over the whole to a
thickness of about a foot, taking care to point the covering at top,
in order to keep out wet.

107. Thus was a small part of the piece put up. The I4th of
December was a Sunday, a day that I can find no Gospel precept
for devoting to the throwing away of the fruit of one's labours,
and a day which I never will so devote again. However, I ought
to have been earlier. On the Monday it rained. On the Monday
night came a sharp North-Wester with its usual companion, at
this season ; that is to say, a sharp frost. Resolved to finish this
piece on that day, I borrowed hands from my neighbours, who
are always ready to assist one Another. We had about two acres
and a half to do ; and it was necessary to employ about one half
of the hands to go before the pullers and loosen the turnips with a
spade in the frosty ground. About ten o'clock, I saw, that we
should not finish, and there was every appearance of a hard frost

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at night. In order, therefore, to expedite tfie work, I called in the
aid of those efficient fellow-labourers, a pair of oven, which, with
a good strong plough, going up one side of each row of turnips,
took away the earth close to the bulbs, left them bare on one side,
and thus made it extremely easy to pull them up. We wanted
spades no longer ; all our hands were employed taking up the
turnips ; and our job, instead of being half done that day, was
completed by about two o'clock. Well and justly did MOSES
order, that the ox should not be muzzled while he was treading
out the corn ; for, surely, no animals are so useful, so docile, so
gentle as these, while they require at our hands so little care and
labour in return !

108. Now, it will be observed, that the turnips here spoken
of, were put up when the ground and the turnips were frozen.
Yet they have kept perfectly sound and good ; and I arn preparing
to plant some of them for seed. I am now writing on the loth
of April. I send off these turnips to market every week. The
tops and tails, and offal I give to the pigs, to the ewes and lambs,
and to a cow, and to working oxen, which all feed together upon
this offal flung out about the barn-yard, or on the grass ground in
the orchard. Before they have done, they leave not a morsel.
But, of feeding I shall speak by and by.

109. The other crop of turnips, I mean those which were
transplanted, as mentioned in paragraphs 72 and 73, and which,
owing to their being planted so late in the summer, kept on
growing most luxuriantly till the very hard frosts came.

no. We were now got on to the i7th of December ; and I had
cabbages to put up. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, the 2ist
and 22nd and 23rd, we had a very hard frost, as the reader, if he
live on this island, will well remember. There came a thaw
afterwards, and the transplanted turnips were put up like the
others ; but this hard frost had pierced them too deeply, especially
as they were in so tender and luxuriant a state. Many of these
we find rotted near the neck ; and, upon the whole, they have
suffered a loss of about one half. An acre, left to take their chance
in the field, turned out, like most of the games of hazard, a total
loss. They were all rotted.

in. This loss arose wholly from my want of sufficient ex
perience. I was anxious to neglect no necessary precaution ;
and I was fully impressed, as I always am, with the advantages
of being early. But, early in December, I lost a week at New
York ; and, though I worried my neighbours half to death to
get at a knowledge of the time of the hard weather setting in, I
could obtain no knowledge, on which I could rely, the several
accounts being so different from each other. The general account
was, that there would be no very hard weather till after Christmas.
I shall know better another time I MAJOR CARTWRIGTIT says, in
speaking of the tricks of English Boroughmongers, at the
" Glorious Revolution," that they will never be able to play the

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same tricks again ; for that nations, like rational individuals, are
not deceived twice in the same way.

112. Thus have I spoken of the time and manner of harvesting,
as they took place with me. And, surely, the expense is a mere
trifle. Two oxen and four men would harvest two acres in any
clear day in the latter end of November ; and thus is this immense
crop harvested, and covered completely, for about tzvo dollars and
a half an acre. It is astonishing, that this is never done in
England ! For, though it is generally said, that the Ruta Baga
will stand any weather ; I know, by experience, that it will not
stand any weather. The winter of the year 1814, that is to say,
the months of January and February, were very cold, and a great
deal of snow fell ; and, in a piece of twelve acres, I had, in the
month of March, two thirds of the turnips completely rotten : and
these were amongst the finest that I ever grew, many of them
weighing twelve pounds each. Besides, when taken up in dry
weather, before the freezings and thawings begin, the dirt all falls
off ; and the bulbs are clean and nice to be given to cattle or sheep
in the stalls or yards. For, though we in general feed off these
roots upon the land with sheep, we cannot, in deep land, always do
it. The land is too wet : and particularly for ewes and lambs,
which are, in such cases, brought into a piece of pasture land, or
into a fold-yard, where the turnips are flung down to them in a
dirty state, just carted from the field. And, again, the land is very
much injured, and the labour augmented, by carting when the
ground is a sort of mud-heap, or rather, pool. All these incon
veniences and injuries would be avoided by harvesting in a dry
day in November, if such a day should, by an accident, be found
in England ; but, why not do the work in October, and sow wheat
at once, in the land ? More on this after-cropping, another
time.

113. In Long Island, and throughout the United States, where
the weather is so fine in the fall ; where every day, from the
middle of October to the end of November (except a rainy day
about once in 16 days), is as fair as the fairest May-day in England,
and where such a thing as a water-furrow in a field was never
heard of ; in such a soil as this, and under such a climate as this,
there never can arise any difficulty in the way of the harvesting
of turnips in proper time. I should certainly do it in November :
for, as we have seen, a little frost does not affect the bulbs at all.
I would put them in when perfectly dry : make my heaps of about
fifty bushels ; and, when the frosts approached, I mean the hard
frosts, I would cover with corn-stalks, or straw, or cedar boughs,
as many of the heaps as I thought I should want in January and
February ; for, these coverings would so break the frost, as to
enable me to open the heaps in those severe months. It is use
less and inconvenient to take into barns, or out-houses, a very
large quantity at a time. Besides, if left uncovered, the very hard
frosts will do them harm. To be sure, this is easily prevented,

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in the barn, by throwing a little straw over the heap ; but, being,
by the means that I have pointed out, always kept ready in the
field, to bring in a larger quantity than is used in a week, or there
abouts, would be wholly unnecessary, besides being troublesome
from the great space, which would thus be occupied.

114. It is a great advantage in the cultivation of this crop, that
the sowing, or transplanting time, comes after all the spring grain
and the Indian Corn are safe in the ground, and before the harvest
of grain begins ; and then again, in the fall, the taking up of the
roots conies after the grain and corn, and buck-wheat harvests,
and even after the sowing of the winter grain. In short, it seems
to me, that the cultivation of this crop, in this country, comes,
as it were expressly, to fill up the unemployed spaces of the
farmer's time ; but, if he prefer standing with arms folded, during
these spaces of time, and hearing his flock bleat themselves half
to death in March and April, or have no flock, and scarcely any
cattle or hogs, raise a few loads of yard-dung, and travel five miles
for ashes, and buy them dear at the end of the five miles ; if he
prefer these, then, certainly, I shall have written on this subject

Quantity of the Crop.

115. It is impossible for me to say, at present, what quantity
of Ruta Baga may be grown on an acre of land in this Island.
My three acres of ridged turnips, sown on the a6th of June, were
very unequal, but, upon one of the acres, there were six hundred
and forty bushels : I mean heaped bushels : that is to say, an
English statute bushel heaped as long as the commodity will lie
on. The transplanted turnips yielded about four hundred bushels
to the acre ; but then, observe, they were put in a full month too
late. This year, I shall make a fair trial.

1 1 6. I have given an account of my raising, upon five acres in
one field, and twelve acres in another field, one thousand three
hundred and twenty bushels to an acre, throughout the seventeen
acres. I have no dcubt of equalling that quantity on this Island,
and that, too, upon some of its poorest and most exhausted land.
They tell me, indeed, that the last summer was a remarkably
fine summer ; so they said at Botley, when I had my first pro
digious crop of Ruta Baga. This is the case in all the pursuits
of life. The moment a man excels those, who ought to be able
and willing to do as well as he ; that moment, others set to work
to discover causes for his success, other than those proceeding
from himself. But, as I used to tell my neighbours at Botley, they
have had the same seasons that I have had. Nothing is so im
partial as weather. As long as this sort of observation, or inquiry,
proceeds from a spirit of emulation, it may be treated with great

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indulgence ; but, when it discovers a spirit of envy, it becomes
detestable, and especially in affairs of agriculture, where the
appeal is made to our common parent, and where no man's success
can be injurious to his neighbour, while it must be a benefit to his
country, or the country in which the success takes place. I must,
however, say, and I say it with feelings of great pleasure, as well
as from a sense of justice, that I have observed in the American
farmers no envy of the kind alluded to ; but, on the contrary, the
greatest satisfaction, at my success ; and not the least backward
ness, but great forwardness, to applaud and admire my mode of
cultivating these crops. Not so, in England, where the farmers
(generally the most stupid as well as most slavish and most churlish
part of the nation) envy all who excel them, while they are too
obstinate to profit from the example of those whom they envy.
I say generally : for there are many most honourable exceptions ;
and, it is amongst that class of men that I have my dearest and
most esteemed friends ; men of knowledge, of experience, of
integrity, and of public-spirit, equal to that of the best of English
men in the worst times of oppression. I would not exchange the
friendship of one of these men for that of all the Lords that ever
were created, though there are some of them very able and up
right men, too.

117. Then, if I may be suffered to digress a little further here,
there exists, in England, an institution, which has caused a sort of
identity of agriculture zvith politics. The Board of Agriculture,
established by Pitt for the purpose of sending spies about the
country, under the guise of agricultural surveyors, in order to
learn the cast of men's politics as well as the taxable capacities of
their farms and property ; this Board gives no premium or praise
to any but " loyal farmers," who are generally the greatest fools.
I, for my part, have never had any communication with it. It was
always an object of ridicule and contempt with me ; but, I know
this to be the rule of that body, which is, in fact, only a little twig
of the vast tree of corruption, which stunts, and blights, and
blasts, all that approaches its poisoned purlieu. This Board
has for its Secretary, Mr. ARTHUR YOUNG, a man of great talents,
bribed from his good principles by this place of five hundred
pounds a year. But Mr. YOUNG, though a most able man, is
not always to be trusted. He is a bold asserter ; and very few
of his statements proceed upon actual experiments. And, as
to what this Board has published, at the public expense, under the
name of Communications, I defy the world to match it as a mass of
illiterate, unintelligible, useless trash. The only paper, pub
lished by this Board, that I ever thought worth keeping, was an
account of the produce from a single cow, communicated by Mr.
CRAMP, the jail-keeper of the County of Sussex ; which con
tained very interesting and wonderful facts, properly authen
ticated, and stated in a clear manner.

118. ARTHUR YOUNG is blind, and never attends a Board.

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Indeed, sorrowful to relate, he is become a religious fanatic, and
this in so desperate a degree as to leave no hope of any possible
cure. In the pride of our health and strength, of mind as well as
of body, we little dream of the chances and changes of old age.
Who can read the " Travels in France , Spain, and Italy," and
reflect on the present state of the admirable writer's mind, without
feeling some diffidence as to what may happen to himself !

119. LORD HARDWICKE, who is now the President of the Board,
is a man, not exceeding my negro, either in experience or natural
abilities. A parcel of court-sycophants are the Vice-Presidents.
Their committees and correspondents are a set of justices of the
peace, nabobs become country-gentlemen, and parsons of the
worst description. And thus is this a mere political job ; a
channel for the squandering of some thousands a year of the
people's money upon worthless men, who ought to be working
in the fields, or mending " His Majesty's Highways."

1 20. Happily, politics, in this country, have nothing to do with
agriculture ; and here, therefore, I think I have a chance to be
fairly heard. I should, indeed, have been heard in England ; but,
I really could never bring myself to do any thing tending to im
prove the estates of the oppressors of my country ; and the same
consideration now restrains me from communicating information,
on the subject of timber trees, which would be of immense benefit
to England ; and which information I shall reserve, till the
tyranny shall be at an end. Castlereagh, in the fulness of his
stupidity, proposed, that, in order to find employment for " the
population," as he insolently called the people of England, he would
set them to dig holes one day and fill them up the next. I could
tell him what to plant in the holes, so as to benefit the country
in an immense degree ; but, like the human body in some com
plaints, the nation would now be really injured by the com
munications of what, if it were in a healthy state, would do it
good, add to its strength, and to all its means of exertion.

121. To return from this digression, I am afraid of no bad
seasons. The drought, which is the great enemy to be dreaded in
this country, I am quite prepared for. Give me ground that I
can plough ten or twelve inches deep, and give me Indian corn
spaces to plough in, and no sun can burn me up. I have men
tioned Mr. CURWEN'S experiment before ; or, rather TULL'S ;
for he it is, who made all the discoveries of this kind. Let any
man, just to try, leave half a rod of ground undug from the month
of May to that of October ; and another half rod let him dig and
break fine every ten or fifteen days. Then, whenever there has
been fifteen days of good scorching sun, let him go and dig a hole
in each. If he does not find the hard ground dry as dust, and the
other moist : then let him say, that I know nothing about these
matters. So erroneous is the common notion, that ploughing
in dry weather lets in the drought !

122. Of course, proceeding upon this fact, which I state as the

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BAGA CULTURE

result of numerous experiments, I should, if visited with long
droughts, give one or two additional ploughings between the crops
when growing. That is all ; and, with this, in Long Island, I
defy all droughts.

123. But, why need I insist upon this effect of ploughing in
dry weather ? Why need I insist on it in an Indian corn country ?
Who has not seen fields of Indian corn looking, to-day, yellow
and sickly, and, in four days hence (the weather being dry all the
while), looking green and flourishing ; and this wonderful effect
produced merely by the plough ? Why, then, should not the
same effect always proceed from the same cause ? The deeper
you plough, the greater the effect, however ; for there is a greater
body of earth to exhale from, and to receive back the tribute of the
atmosphere. Mr. CURWEN tells us of a piece of cattle-cabbages.
In a very dry time in July, they looked so yellow and blue, that he
almost despaired of them. He sent in his ploughs ; and a gentle
man, who had seen them when the ploughs went in en. the Monday,
could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw them on the next
Saturday, though it had continued dry all the week.

124. To perform these summer ploughings, in this island, is
really nothing. The earth is so light and in such fine order, and
so easily displaced and replaced. I used one horse for the pur
pose, last summer, and a very slight horse indeed. An ox is,
however, better for this work ; and this may be accomplished by
the use of a collar and two traces, or by a single yoke and two
traces. TULL recommends the latter ; and I shall try it for Indian
corn as well as for turnips.* Horses, if they are strong enough,
are not so steady as oxen, which are more patient also, and with
which you may send the plough-share down without any of the
fretting and unequal pulling, or jerking, that you have to en
counter with horses. And, as to the slow pace of the ox, it is the
old story of the tortoise and the hare. If I had known, in England,
of the use of oxen, what I have been taught upon Long Island, I

* Since the above paragraph was written, I have made a single-
ox-yoke; and, I find it answer excellently well. Now, my work is
much shortened ; for, in forming ridges, two oxen are awkward.
They occupy a wide space, and one of them is obliged to valk
upon the ploughed land, which, besides making the ridge uneven
at top, presses the ground, which is injurious. For ploughing
between the rows of turnips and Indian corn also, what a great
convenience this will be! An ox goes steadier than a horse, and
will plough deeper, without fretting and without tearing; and he
wants neither harness-maker nor groom. The plan of my yoke I
took from TULL. I showed it to my W9rkman. who chopped off
the limb of a tree, and made the yoke in an hour. It is a piece
of wood, with two holes to receive two ropes, about three quar
ters of an inch in diameter. These traces are fastened into the
yoke merely by a knot, which prevents the ends from passing
through the holes, while the other ends are fastened to the two
ends of a Wiffle-tree, as it is called in Long Island, of a Wipple-
tree, as it is called in Kent, and of a Wippance, as it is called
in Hampshire. I am but a poor draftsman; bi)t, if the printer
can find any thing to make the representation with, the following

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RUfA BAG A CULTURE

might have saved myself some hundreds of pounds a year. I
ought to have followed TULL in this as in all other parts of his
manner of cultivating land. But, in our country, it is difficult
to get a ploughman to look at an ox. In this Island the thing is
done so completely and so easily, that it was, to me, quite wonder
ful to behold. To see one of these Long-Islanders going into the
field, or orchard, at sun-rise, with his yoke in his hand, call his
oxen by name to come and put their necks under the yoke, drive
them before him to the plough, just hitch a hook on to the ring
of the yoke, and then, without any thing except a single chain and
the yoke, with no reins, no halter, no traces, no bridle, no driver,
set to plough, and plough a good acre and a half in the day. To
see this would make an English farmer stare ; and well it might,
when he looked back to the ceremonious and expensive business
of keeping and managing a plough-team in England.

125. These are the means, which I would, and which I shall
use, to protect my crops against the effects of a dry season. So
that, as every one has the same means at his command, no one
need be afraid of drought. It is a bright plough-share that is
always wanted much more than the showers. With this culture
there is no fear of a crop ; and though it amount to only five
hundred bushels on an acre, what crop is half so valuable.

126. The bulk of crop, however, in the broadcast, or random
method, may be materially affected by drought : for in that case,
the plough cannot come to supply the place of showers. The
ground there will be dry, and keep dry in a dry time ; as in the
case of the supposed half rod of undug ground in the garden.
The weeds, too, will come and help by their roots, to suck the
moisture out of the ground. As to the hcmd-hoeings , they may
keep down weeds to be sure, and they raise a trifling portion of
exhalation ; but, it is trilling indeed. Dry weather, if of long
continuation, makes the leaves become of a bluish colour ; and,
when this is once the case, all the rain and all the fine weather in

draft will clearly show what I have meant to describe in

words :—

When the corn (Indian) and turnips get to a size, sufficient to
attract the appetite of the ox, you have only to put on a muzzle.
This is what Mr. TULL did; for, though we tmgnt not to muzzle
the ox " as he treadeth out the corn," we may do it, even for his
own sake, amongst other considerations, when he is assisting us
to bring the crop to perfection.

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RUTA BAG A CULTURE

the world will never make the crop a good one ; because the
plough cannot move amidst this scene of endless irregularity.
This is one of the chief reasons why the ridge method is best.

Uses of, and Mode of applying, the Crop.

127. It is harder to say what uses this root may not be put to,
than what uses it may be put to, in the feeding of animals. It is
eaten greedily by sheep, horn-cattle, and hogs, in its raw state.
Boiled, or steamed (which is better), no dog that I ever saw will
refuse it. Poultry of all sorts will live upon it in its cooked state.
Some dogs will even eat it raw ; a fact that I first became ac
quainted with by perceiving my Shepherd's dog eating in the
field along with the sheep. I have two Spaniels that come into
the barn and eat it now ; and yet they are both in fine condition.
Some horses will nearly live upon it in the raw state ; others are
not so fond of it.

128. Let me give an account of what I am doing now (in the
month of April) with my crop.

129. It is not pretended, that this root, measure for measure,
is equal to Indian corn in the ear. Therefore, as I can get Indian
corn in the ear for half a dollar a bushel, and, as I sell my Ruta
Baga for half a dollar a bushel at New York, I am very sparing of
the use of the latter for animals. Indeed, I use none at home,
except such as have been injured, as above-mentioned, by the
delay in the harvesting. These damaged roots I apply in the
following manner.

130. Twice a day I take about two bushels, and scatter them
about upon the grass for fifteen ewes with their lambs, and a few
wether sheep, and for seven stout store pigs, which eat with
them. Once a day I fling out a parcel of the refuse that have been
cut from the roots sent to market, along with cabbage leaves and
stems, parsnips, fibres, and the like. Here the working oxen,
hogs, cows, sheep, and fowls, all feed as they please. All these
animals are in excellent condition. The cow has no other food ;
the working oxen a lock of hay twice a day ; the ewes an ear of
Indian corn each ; the pigs nothing but the roots ; the fowls and
ducks and turkeys are never fed in any other way, though they
know how to feed themselves whenever there is any thing good to
be found above ground.

131. I am weaning some pigs, which, as every one knows, is an
affair of milk and meal. I have neither. I give about three
buckets of boiled Ruta Baga to seven pigs every day, not having any
convenience for steaming ; two baits of Indian corn in the ear.
And, with this diet, increasing the quantity with the growth of the
pigs, I expect to turn them out of the sty fatter (if that be possible)

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

than they entered it. Now, if this be so, every farmer will say,
that this is what never was done before in America. We all know
how important a thing it is to zvean a pig well. Any body can
wean them without milk and meal : but, then, the pigs are good
for nothing. They remain three months afterwards and never
grow an inch ; and they are, indeed, not worth having. To have
rnilk, you must have cows, and cows are vast consumers ! To
have cows, you must have female labour, \vhich, in America, is a
very precious commodity. You cannot have meal without
sharing in kind pretty liberally with the miller, besides bestowing
labour, however busy you may be, to carry the corn to mill and
bring the meal back. I am, however, speaking here of the pigs
from my English breed ; though I am far from supposing that
the common pigs might not be weaned in the same way.

132. Sows with young pigs I feed thus : boiled Ruta Baga twice
a day. About three ears of Indian corn a piece twice a day.
As much offal Ruta Baga raw as they will eat. Amongst this
boiled Ruta Baga, the pot-liquor of the house goes, of course ;
but, then, the dogs, I dare say, take care that the best shall fall
to their lot ; and as there are four of them pretty fat, their share
cannot be very small. Every one knows what good food, how
much meal and milk are necessary to sows which have pigs. I
have no milk, for my cow has not yet calved. And, then, what a
chance concern this is ; for, the sows may perversely have pigs at
the time when the cows do not please to give milk : or, rather,
when they, poor things, without any fault of theirs, are permitted
to go dry, which never need be, and never ought to be the case. I
had a cow once that made more than two pounds of butter during
the week, and had a calf on the Saturday night. Cows always
ought to be milked to the very day of their calving, and during
the whole time of their suckling their calves. But, " sufficient
unto the day is the evil thereof." Let us leave this matter till
another time. Having, however, accidentally mentioned cowst
I will just observe, that in the little publication of Mr. CRAMP,
mentioned above, as having been printed by the Board of Agri
culture, it was stated and the proof given, that his single cozo gave
him, clear profit, for several successive years, more than fifty
pounds sterling a year, or upwards of two hundred and twenty dollars.
This was clear profit : reckoning the food and labour, and taking
credit for the calf, the butter, and for the skim-milk at a penny
a quart only. Mr. CRAMP'S was a Sussex cow. Mine were of
the Alderney breed. Little small-boned things ; but, two of rny
cows, fed upon three quarters of an acre of grass ground, in the
middle of my shrubbery, and fastened to pins in the ground,
which were shifted twice a day, made three hundred pounds of
butter from the 28th of March to the 27th of June. This is a finer
country for cattle than England ; and yet, what do I see !

133. This difficulty about feeding sows with young pigs and
weaning pigs, is one of the greatest hindrances to improvement ;

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

for, after all, what animal produces flesh meat like the hog ?
Applicable to all uses, either fresh or salted, is the meat. Good
in all its various shapes. The animal killable at all ages. Quickly
fatted. Good if half fat. Capable of supporting an immense
burden of fat. Demanding but little space for its accommoda
tion ; and yet, if grain and corn and milk are to be their principal
food, during their lives, they cannot multiply very fast ; because
many upon a farm cannot be kept to much profit. But, if, by
providing a sufficiency of Ruta Baga, a hundred pigs could be
raised upon a farm in a year, and carried on till fatting time, they
would be worth, when ready to go into the fatting sty, fifteen
dollars each. This would be something worth attending to ;
and the farm must become rich from the manure. The Ruta
Baga, taken out of the heaps early in April, will keep well and
sound all the summer ; and with a run in an orchard, or in a
grassy place, it will keep a good sort of hog always in a very
thriving, and even fleshy state.

134. This root, being called a turnip, is regarded as a turnip,
as a common turnip, than which nothing can be much less re
sembling it. The common turnip is a very poor thing. The
poorest of all the roots of the bulb kind, cultivated in the fields ;
and the Ruta Baga, all taken together, is, perhaps, the very best.
It loses none of its good qualities by being long kept, though dry
all the while. A neighbour of mine in Hampshire, having saved
a large piece of Ruta Baga for seed, and having, after harvesting
the seed, accidentally thrown some of the roots into his yard, saw
his hogs eat these old roots, which had borne the seed. He gave
them some more, and saw that they ate them greedily. He,
therefore, went and bought a whole drove, in number about forty,
of lean pigs, of a good large size, brought them into his yard,
carted in the roots of his seed Ruta Baga, and, without having
given the pigs a handful of any other sort of food, so}d out his
pigs -as fat porkers. And, indeed, it is a fact well known, that sheep
and cattle, as well as hogs, will thrive upon this root after it has
borne seed, which is what, I believe, can be said of no other root
or plant.

I35- When we feed off our Ruta Baga in the fields, in England,
by sheep, there are small parts left by the sheep : the shells which
they have left after scooping out the pulp of the bulb ; the tap
root ; ^and other little bits. These are picked out of the ground,
and when washed by the rain, other sheep follow and live upon
them. Or, in default of other sheep, hogs or cattle are turned in
in dry weather, and they leave not a morsel.

136. Nor are the greens to be forgotten. In England, they are
generally eaten by the sheep, when they are turned in upon them.
When the roots are taken up for uses at the home-stead, the
greens are given to store-pigs and lean cattle. I cut mine off,
while the roots were in the ground, and gave them to fatting
cattle upon grass land, alternately with Indian corn in the ear ;

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

and, in this way, they are easily and most profitably applied, and
they come, too, just after the grass is gone from the pastures. An
acre produces about four good waggon loads of greens ; and they
are taken off fresh and fresh as they are wanted, and, at the same
time, the roots are thus made ready for going at once into the
heaps. Pigs, sheep, cattle ; all like the greens as well as they do
the roots. Try any of them with the greens of zvhite turnips ;
and, if they touch them, they will have changed their natures, or,
at least, their tastes.

137. The Mangel Wurzel, the cabbage, the carrot, and the
parsnip, are all useful ; and the latter, that is to say, the parsnip,
very valuable indeed ; but the main cattle-crop is the Ruta Baga.
Even the zvhite turnip, if well cultivated, may be of great use ; and,
as it admits of being sown later, it may often be very desirable to
raise it. But, reserving myself to speak fully, in a future part of
my work, of my experiments as to these crops, I shall now make
a short inquiry as to the value of a crop of Ruta Baga, compared
with the value of any other crop. I will just observe, in this
place, however, that I have grown finer carrots, parsnips, and
Mangel Wurzel, and even finer cabbages, than I ever grew upon
the richest land in Hampshire, though not a seed of any of them
was put into the ground till the month of June.

138. A good mode, it appears to me, of making my proposed
comparative estimate, will be to say, how I would proceed, sup
posing me to have a farm of my own in this island, of only one
hundred acres. If there were not twelve acres of orchard near
the house, I would throw as much grass land to the orchard as
would make up the twelve acres, which I could fence in an effectual
manner against small pigs as well as large oxen.

139. Having done this, I would take care to have fifteen acres
of good Indian corn, well planted, well suckered, and well tilled in
all respects. Good, deep ploughing between the plants would
give me forty bushels of shelled corn to an acre ; and a ton to the
acre of fodder for my four working oxen and three cows, and my
sheep and hogs, of which I shall speak presently.

140. I would have twelve acres of Ruta Baga, three acres of early
cabbages, an acre of Mangel Wurzel, an acre of carrots and
parsnips, and as many white turnips as would grow between my
rows of Indian corn after my last ploughing of that crop.

141. With these crops, which would occupy thirty-two acres of
ground, I should not fear being able to keep a good house in all
sorts of meat, together with butter and milk, and to send to market
nine quarters of beef and three hides, a hundred early fat lambs,
a hundred hogs, weighing twelve score, as WP call it in Hampshire,
or, two hundred and forty pounds each, and a hundred fat ewes.
These, altogether, would amount to about three thousand dollars
exclusive of the cost of a hundred ewes and of three oxen ; I
should hope, that the produce of my trees in the orchard and of
the other fifty-six acres of my farm would pay the rent and the

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BAG A CULTURE

labour , for, as to taxes, the amount is not worth naming,
especially after the sublime spectacle o.f that sort, which the
world beholds in England.

142. I am, you will perceive, not making any account of the
price of Ruta Baga, cabbages, carrots, parsnips and white turnips
at New York, or any other market. I now, indeed, sell carrots
and parsnips at three quarters of a dollar the hundred, by tale ;
cabbages (of last fall) at about three dollars a hundred, and white
turnips at a quarter of a dollar a bushel. When this can be done,
and the distance is within twenty or thirty miles on the best road
in the world, it will, of course, be done ; but, my calculations are
built upon a supposed consumption of the whole upon the farm
by animals of one sort or another.

143. My feeding would be nearly as follows. I will begin with
February ; for, until then, the Ruta Baga does not come to its
sweetest taste. It is like an apple, that must have time to ripen ;
but, then, it retains its goodness much longer. I have proved,
and especially in the feeding of hogs, that the Ruta Baga is never
so good, till it arrives at a mature state. In February, and about
the first of that month, I should begin bringing in my Ruta Baga,

-in the manner before described. My three oxen, which would
have been brought forward by other food, to be spoken of by and
by, would be tied up in a stall looking into one of those fine com
modious barn floors which we have upon this island. Their
stall should be warm, and they should be kept well littered, and
cleaned out frequently. The Ruta Baga just chopped into large
pieces with a spade or shovel, and tossed into the manger to the
oxen at the rate of about two bushels a day to each ox, would make
them completely fat, without the aid of corn, hay, or any other
thing. I should, probably, kill one ox at Christmas, and, in that
case, he must have had a longer time than the others upon other
food. If I killed one of the two remaining oxen in the middle of
March, and the other on the first of May, they would consume
266 bushels of Ruta Baga.

144. My hundred ewes would begin upon Ruta Baga at the
same time, and, as my grass ground would be only twelve acres
until after hay-time, I shall suppose them to be fed on this root
till July, and they will always eat it and thrive upon it. They
will eat about eight pounds each, a day ; so that, for 150 days it
would require a hundred and twenty thousand pounds weight,
or two thousand four hundred bushels.

145. Fourteen breeding sows to be kept all the year round,
would bring a hundred pigs in the Spring, and they and their
pigs would, during the same 150 days, consume much about the
same quantity ; for, though the pigs would be small during these
150 days, yet they eat a great deal more than sheep in proportion
to their size, or rather bulk. However, as they would eat very little
during the first 60 days of their age, I have rather over-rated their
consumption.

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RUTA BAG A CULTURE

146. Three cows and four working oxen would, during the 150
days, consume about one thousand bushels, which indeed, would
be more than sufficient, because, during a great part of the time
they would more than half live upon corn-stalks ; and, indeed,
this, to a certain extent, would be the case with the sheep. How
ever, as I mean that every thing should be of a good size, and live
well, I made ample provision.

147. I should want, then, to raise five hundred bushels of Ruta
Baga upon each of rny twelve acres ; and why should I not do it,
seeing that I have this year raised six hundred and forty bushels
upon an acre, under circumstances such as I have stated them ?
I lay it down, therefore, that, with a culture as good as that of
Indian corn, any man may, on this island (where corn will grow)
have 500 bushels to the acre.

148. I am now come to the first of July. My oxen are fatted
and disposed of. My lambs are gone to market, the last of them
a month ago. My pigs are weaned and of a good size. And now
my Ruta Baga is gone. But my ewes, kept well through the
winter, will soon be fat upon the 1 2 acres of orchard and the hay-
ground, aided by my three acres of early cabbages, which are now
fit to begin cutting, or, rather, pulling up. The weight of this
crop may be made very great indeed. Ten thousand plants will
stand upon an acre, in four feet ridges, and every plant ought to
weigh three pounds at least. I have shown before how advan
tageously Ruta Baga transplanted would follow these cabbages,
all through the months of July and August. But what a crop of
Buck-wheat would follow such of the cabbages as came off in
July I My cabbages, together with my hay-fields and grain-
fields after harvest, and about forty or fifty waggon-loads of Ruta
Baga greens, would carry me along well till December (the cab
bages being planted at different times) ; for, my ewes would be
sold fat in July, and my pigs would be only increasing in demand
for food ; and the new hundred ewes need not, and ought not, to
be kept so well as if they were fatting, or had lambs by their side.

149. From the first of December to the first of February,
Mangel Wurzel and white turnips would keep the sheep and cattle
and breeding sows plentifully ; for the latter will live well upon
Mangel Wurzel ; and my hundred hogs, intended for fatting,
would be much more than half fat upon the carrots and parsnips.
I should, however, more probably keep my parsnips till Spring,
and mix the feeding with carrots with the feeding with corn
for the first month or fifteen days, with regard to the fatting hogs.
None of these hogs would require more than three bushels of
corn each to finish them completely. My other three hundred
bushels would be for sows giving suck ; the ewes, now and then
in wet weather ; and for other occasional purposes.

150. Thus all my hay and oats, and wheat and rye might be
sold, leaving me the straw for litter. These, surely, would pay
the rent and the labour ; and, if I am told, that I have taken no

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RUT A BAG A CULTURE

account of the mutton, and lamb, and pork, that my house would
demand, neither have I taken any account of a hundred summer
pigs, which the fourteen sows would have, and which would
hardly fail to bring two hundred dollars. Poultry demand some
food : but three parts of their raising consists of care : and, if I
had nobody in my house to bestow this care, I should, of course,
have the less number of mouths to feed.

151. But, my horses ! Will not they swallow my hay and my
oats ? No : for I want no horses. But, am I never to take a
ride then ? Aye, but, if I do, I have no right to lay the expense
of it to the account of the farm. I am speaking of how a man
may live by and upon a farm. If a merchant spend a thousand a
year, and gain a thousand, does he say, that his traffic has gained
him nothing ? When men lose money by farming, as they call it,
they forget, that it is not the farming, but other expenses that take
away their money. It is, in fact, they that rob the farm, and not
the farm them. Horses may be kept for the purposes of going
to church, or to meeting, or to pay visits. In many cases this
may be not only convenient, but necessary, to a family ; but,
upon this Island, I am very sure, that it is neither convenient nor
necessary to a farm. " What ! " the ladies will say, " would you
have us to be shut up at home all our lives ; or be dragged about
' by oxen' ? " By no means ; not I ! I should be very sorry to
be thought the author of any such advice. I have no sort of ob
jection to the keeping of horses upon a farm ; but, I do insist
upon it, that all the food and manual labour required by such
horses, ought to bs considered as so much taken from the clear
profits of the farm.

152. I have made sheep, and particularly lambs, a part of my
supposed stock ; but, I do not know, that I should keep any
beyond what might be useful for my house. Hogs are the most
profitable stock, if you have a large quantity of the food that they
will thrive on. They are foul feeders ; but, they will eat nothing
that is poor in its nature ; that is to say, they will not thrive on it.
They are the most able tasters in all the creation ; and, that which
they like best, you may be quite sure has the greatest proportion
of nutritious matter in it, from a white turnip to a piece of beef,
They will prefer meat to corn, and cooked meat to raw ; they
will leave parsnips for corn or grain ; they will leave carrots for
parsnips ; they will leave Ruta Baga for carrots ; they will leave
cabbages for Ruta Baga ; they will leave Mangel Wurzel for
cabbages ; they will leave potatoes (both being raw) for Mangel
Wurzel. A white turnip they will not touch, unless they be on the
point of starving. They are the best of triers. Whatever they
prefer is sure to be the richest thing within their reach. The
parsnip is, by many degrees, the richest root ; but, the seed lies
long in the ground ; the sowing and after-culture are works of
great niceness. The crop is large with good cultivation ; but, as
.a main crop, I prefer the Ruta Baga, of which the crop is immense,

78

RUT A BAG A CULTURE

and the harvesting, and preserving, and application of which,
are so easy.

153. The farm I suppose to be in fair condition to start with ;
the usual grass-seeds sown, and so forth ; and every farmer will
see, that, under my system, it must soon become rich as any
garden need to be, without my sending men and horses to the
water-side to fetch ashes, which have been brought from Boston
or Charleston, an average distance of seven hundred miles !
In short, my stock would give me, in one shape or another, manure
to the amount, in utility, of more than a thousand tons weight a
year of common yard manure. This would be ten tons to an acre
every year. The farm would, in this way, become more and more
productive ; and, as to its being too rich, I see no danger of that ;
for a broad-cast crop of wheat will, at any time, tame it pretty
sufficiently.

154. Very much, in my opinion, do those mistake the matter,
who strive to get a great breadth of land, with the idea, that, when
they have tried one field, they can let it lie, and go to another.
It is better to have one acre of good crop, than two of bad or
indifferent. If the one acre can by double the manure and double
the labour in tillage, be made to produce as much as two other
acres, the one acre is preferable, because it requires only half as
much fencing, and little more than half as much harvesting, as
two acres. There is many a ten acres of land near London, that
produces more than any common farm of two hundred acres.
My garden of three quarters of an acre, produced more, in value,
last Summer, from June to December, than any ten acres of oat
land upon Long Island, though I there saw as fine fields of oats
as I ever saw in my life. A heavy crop upon all the ground that
I put a plough into is what I should seek, rather than to have a
great quantity of land.

155. The business of carting manure from a distance can, in
very few, if any cases, answer a profitable purpose. If any man
would give me even horse-dung at the stable-door, four miles
from my land, I would not accept of it, on condition of fetching it.
I say the same of spent ashes. To manure a field of ten acres, in
this way, a man and two horses must be employed twenty days at
least, with twenty days' wear and tear of waggon and tackle. Two
oxen and two men do the business in two days, if the manure be
on the spot.

156. In concluding my remarks on the subject of Ruta Baga,
I have to apologize for the desultory manner in which I have
treated the matter ; but, I have put the thoughts down as they
occurred to me, without much time for arrangement, wishing
very much to get this first Part into the hands of the public before
the arrival of the time for sowing Ruta Baga this present year.
In the succeeding Parts of the work, I propose to treat of the
culture of every other plant that I have found to be of use upon
a farm ; and also to speak fully of the sorts of cattle, sheep, and

79

RUfA BAGA CULTURE

hogs, particularly the latter. My experiments are now going on ;
and, I shall only have to communicate the result, which I shall do
very faithfully, and with as much clearness as I am able. In the
mean while, I shall be glad to afford any opportunity, to any
persons who may think it worth while to come to Hyde Park, of
seeing how I proceed. I have just now (i?th April) planted out
my Ruta Baga, Cabbages, Mangel Wurzel, Onions, Parsnips,
&c., for seed. I shall begin my earth-burning in about fifteen days.
In short, being convinced, that I am able to communicate very
valuable improvements ; and not knowing how short, or how
long, my stay in America may be, I wish very much to leave behind
me whatever of good I am able, in retuin for the protection, which
America has afforded me against the fangs of the Boroughmongers
of England ; to which country, however, I always bear affection,
which I cannot feel towards any other in the same degree, and the
prosperity and honour of which I shall, I hope, never cease to
prefer before the gratification of all private pleasures and
emoluments.

END
Of the Treatise on Ruta Baga,

AND OF PART I.

PART II

DEDICATION

TO
MR. RICHARD HINXMAN

OF CHILLING IN HAMPSHIRE.

North Hempslead, Long Island,
15th Nov., 1818.

MY DEAR SIR,

THE following little volume will give you some account of my
agricultural proceedings in this fine and well-governed country ;
and, it will also enable you to see clearly how favourable an
absence of grinding taxation and tithes is to the farmer. You
have already paid to Fund-holders, Standing Armies, and Priests
more money than would make a decent fortune for two children ,
and, if the present system were to continue to the end of your
national life, you would pay more to support the idle and the
worthless, than would maintain, during the same space of time,
ten labourers and their families. The profits of your capital,
care and skill are pawned by the Boroughmongers to pay the
interest of a Debt, which they have contracted for their own
purposes ; a Debt, which never can, by ages of toil and of
sufferings, on the part of the people, be either paid off or
diminished. But, I trust, that deliverance from this worse
than Egyptian bondage is now near at hand. The atrocious
tyranny does but stagger along. At every step it discovers fresh
proofs of impotence. It must come down ; and when it is down,
we shall not have to envy the farmers of America, or of any
country in the world.

When you reflect on the blackguard conduct of the Parsons
at Winchester, on the day when I last had the pleasure to see you
imd our excellent friend Goldsmith, you will rejoice to find, that,
throughout the whole of this extensive country, there exists not
one single animal of that description ; so that we can here keep
as many cows, sows, ewes and hens as we please, with the cer
tainty, that no prying, greedy Parson will come to eat up a part
of the young ones. How long shall we Englishmen suffer our

83

DEDICATION

cow-stalls, our styes, our folds and our hen-roosts to be the prey
of this prowling pest ?

In many parts of the following pages you will trace the remarks
and opinions back to conversations that have passed between us,
many times in Hampshire. In the making of them my mind
has been brought back to the feelings of those days. The cer
tainty, that I shall always be beloved by you constitutes one of
the greatest pleasures of my life ; and I am sure, that you want
nothing to convince you, that I am unchangeably,

Your faithful and affectionate friend,

WM. COBBETT.

PREFACE ?O THE SECOND PAR?

157. IN the First Part I adopted the mode of numbering the
paragraphs, a mode which I shall pursue to the end of the work ;
and, as the whole work may, at the choice of the purchaser, be
bound up in one volume, or remain in two volumes, I have
thought it best to resume the numbering at the point where I
stopped at the close of the First Part. The last paragraph of
that Part was 156 : I, therefore, now begin with 157. For the
same reason I have, in the Second Part, resumed the paging at
the point where I stopped in the First Part. I left off at page
80 ; and, I begin with 83. I have, in like manner, resumed
the chaptering ; so that, when the two volumes are put together,
they will, as to these matters, form but one ; and those, who may
have purchased the volumes separately, will possess the same
book, in all respects, as those, who shall purchase the Three Parts
in one Volume.

158. Paragraph i. (Part I.) contains my reasons for numbering
the paragraphs, but, besides the reasons there stated, there is one,
which did not then occur to me, and which was left to be suggested
by experience, of a description which I did not then anticipate ;
namely, that, in the case of more than one edition, the paging may,
and generally does, differ in such manner as to bring the matter,
which, in one edition, is under any given page, under a different
page in another edition. This renders the work of reference very-
laborious at best, and, in many cases, it defeats its object. If the
paragraphs of BLACKSTONE'S COMMENTARIES had been numbered,
how much valuable time it would have saved. I am now about
to send a second edition of the First Part of this work to the press.
I arn quite careless about the paging ; that is to say, so that the
whole be comprised within the 134 pages, it is of no consequence
whether the matter take, with respect to the pages, precisely the
same situation that it took before ; and, if the paging were not
intended to join on to that of the present volume, it would be no
matter what were the number of pages upon the whole. I hope,
that these reasons will be sufficient to convince the reader that I
have not, in this case, been actuated by a love of singularity. We
live to learn, and to make improvements, and every improvement
must, at first, be a singularity.

PREFACE— PAR? II

159. The utility, which I thought would arise from the
hastening out of the First Part, in June last, previous to the time
for sowing Swedish Turnips, induced me to make an ugly breach
in the order of my little work ; and, as it generally happens, that
when disorder is once begun, it is very difficult to restore order ;
so, in this case, I have been exceedingly puzzled to give to the
matter of these two last Parts such an arrangement as should be
worthy of a work, which, whatever may be the character of its
execution, treats of subjects of great public interest. However,
with the help of the Index, which I shall subjoin to the Third
Part, and which will comprise a reference to the divers matters
in all the three parts, and in the making of which Index an
additional proof of the advantage of numbering the paragraphs
has appeared ; with the help of this Index the reader will, I
am in hopes, be enabled to overcome, without any very great
trouble, the inconveniences naturally arising from a want of a
perfectly good arrangement of the subjects of the work.

1 60. As the First Part closes with a promise to communicate
the result of my experiments of this present year, I begin the
Second Part with a fulfilment of that promise, particularly with
icgard to the procuring of manure by the burning, of earth into ashes.

1 6 1. I then proceed with the other matters named in the title ;
and the Third Part I shall make to consist of an account of the
Western Countries, furnished in the Notes of Mr. HULME, to
gether with a view of the advantages and disadvantages of pre
ferring, as a place to farm in, those Countries to the Countries
bordering on the Atlantic ; in which view I shall include such
remarks as appear to me likely to be useful to those English
Farmers, who can no longer bear the lash of Boroughmongering
oppression and insolence.

162. IVIultifariousness is a great fault in a written work of any
kind. I feel the consciousness of this fault upon this occasion.
The facts and opinions relative to Swedish Turnips and Cabbages
will be very apt to be enfeebled in their effect by those relating
to manners, laws and religion. Matters so heterogeneous, the
one class treated of in the detail and the other in the great, ought
not to be squeezed together between the boards of the same
small volume. But, the fault is committed and it is too late to
repine. There are, however, two subjects which I will treat of
distinctly hereafter. The first is that of Fencing, a subject which
presses itself upon the attention of the American Farmer, but from
which he turns with feelings like those with which a losing trades
man turns from an examination of his books. But, attend to it he
must before it be long ; or, his fields, in the populous parts of this
Island at least, must lay waste, and his fuel must be brought him
from Virginia or from England. Sometime before March next
I shall publish an Essay on Fencing. The form shall correspond
with that of this work, in order that it may be bound up with it,
if that should be thought desirable. The other subject is that of

86

PREFACE— PAR? II

Gardening. This I propose to treat of in a small distinct volume,
under some appropriate title ; and, in this volume, to give alpha
betically, a description of all the plants, cultivated for the use of
the table and also of those cultivated as cattle food. To this
description I shall add an account of their properties, and in
structions for the cultivation of them in the best manner. It
is not my intention to go beyond what is aptly enough called the
Kitchen Garden : but, as a hot-bed may be of such great use even
to the farmer ; and as ample materials for making beds of this
sort are always at his command without any expense, I shall
endeavour to give plain directions for the making and managing
of a hot-bed. A bed of this sort, fifteen feet long, has given me,
this year, the better part of an acre of fine cabbages to give to hogs
in the parching month otjuly. This is so very simple a matter ;
is so very easy to learn ; that there is scarcely a farmer in
America, who would not put the thing in practice, at once, with
complete success.

163. Let not my countrymen, who may happen to read this
suppose, that these, or any other, pursuits will withdraw my
attention from, or slacken my zeal in, that cause, which is common
to us all. That cause claims, and has, my first attention and best
exertion ; that is the business of my life : these other pursuits
are my recreation. KING ALFRED allowed eight hours for
recreation, in the twenty-four, eight for sleep, and eight for business.
I do not take my allowance of the two former.

164. Upon looking into the First Part, I see, that I expressed
a hope to be able to give, in some part of this work, a sketch of the
work of Mr. TULL. I have looked at TULL, and I cannot bring
my mind up to the commission of so horrid an act as that of
garbling such a work. It was, perhaps, a feeling, such as that
which I experience at this moment, which restrained Mr.
CURWEN from even naming TULL, when he gave one of TULL'S
experiments to the world as a discovery of his ozvn. Unable to
screw himself up to commit a murder, he contented himself with
a robbery ; an instance, he may, indeed, say, of singular modera
tion and self-denial ; especially when we consider of wrhat an
assembly he has, with little intermission, been an " Honourable
Member " for the last thirty years of his life.

WM. COBBETT.

North Hempstead, Long Island,
i$th November, 1818.

TSARS ^SSIDSNCS

IN

CHAPTER III.

EXPERIMENTS, IN l8l8, AS TO CABBAGES.
Preliminary Remarks.

165. AT the time when I was writing the First Part, I expected to
be able to devote more time to my farming, during the summer,
than I afterwards found that I could so devote without neglecting
matters which I deem of greater importance. I was, indeed,
obliged to leave the greater part of my out-door's business wholly
to my men, merely telling them what to do. However, I attended
to the things which I thought to be of the most importance. The
field-culture of Carrots, Parsnips and Mangle Wurzel I did not
attempt. I contented myself with a crop of Cabbages and of
Ruta Baga and with experiments as to Earth-burning and Trans
planting Indian Corn. The summer, and the fall also, have been
remarkably dry in Long Island, much more dry than is usual.
The grass has been very short indeed. A sort of Grass-hopper,
or Cricket, has eaten up a considerable part of the grass and of all
vegetables, the leaves of which have come since the month of
June. I am glad, that this has been the case ; for I now know

89

CABBAGES

what a farmer may do in the worst of years : and, when I consider
what the summer has been, I look at my Cabbages and Ruta Baga
with surprize as well as with satisfaction.

CABBAGES.

1 66. I had some hogs to keep, and, as my Swedish Turnips
(Ruta Baga) would be gone by July, or before, I wished them to be
succeeded by cabbages. I made a hot-bed on the zoth of March,
which ought to have been made more than a month earlier ; but
I had been in Pennsylvania, and did not return home till the i^th
of March. It requires a little time to mix and turn the dung in
order to prepare it for a hot-bed ; so that mine was not a very good
one ; and then my frame was hastily patched up, and its covering
consisted of some old broken sashes of windows. A very shabby
concern ; but, in this bed I sowed cabbages and cauliflowers.
The seed came up, and the plants, though standing too thick,
grew pretty well. From this bed, they would, if I had had time,
been transplanted into another, at about two and a half or three
inches apart. But, such as they were, very much drawn up, I
began planting them out as soon as they were about four inches
high.

167. It was the I2th of May before they attained this height,
and I then began planting them out in a piece of ground, pretty
good, and deeply ploughed by oxen. My cauliflowers, of which
there were about three thousand, were too late to flower, which
they never will do, unless the flower have begun to shew itself
before the great heat comes. However, these plants grew very
large, and afforded a great quantity of food for pigs. The outside
leaves and stems were eaten by sows, store-pigs, a cow, and some
oxen ; the hearts, which were very tender and nearly of the
Cauliflower-taste, were boiled in a large cast-iron caldron, and,
mixed with a little rye-meal, given to sows and young pigs. I
should suppose, that these three thousand plants weighed twelve
hundred pounds, and they stood upon about half an acre of land.
I gave these to the animals early in July.

1 68. The Cabbages, sown in the bed, consisted partly of Early
Yorks, the seed of which had been sent me along with the Cauli
flower seed, from England, and had readied me at Harrisburgh
in Pennsylvania ; and partly of plants, the seed of which had been
given me by Mr. JAMES PAUL, Senior, of Bustleton, as I was on
my return home. And this gave me a pretty good opportunity
of ascertaining the fact as to the degenerating of cabbage seed. Mr.
Paul who attended very minutely to all such matters ; who took
great delight in his garden ; who was a reading as well as a prac
tical farmer, told me, when he gave me the seed, that it would not

go

CABBAGES

produce loaved cabbages so early as my own seed would ; for,
that, though he had always selected the earliest heads for seed,
the seed degenerated, and the cabbages regularly came to per
fection later and later. He said, that he never should save
cabbage seed himself ; but, that it was such chance-zvork to buy
of seedsmen, that he thought it best to save some at any rate.
In this case, all the plants from the English seed produced solid
loaves by the 24th of June, while, from the plants of the Pennsyl
vania seed, we had not a single solid loaf till the 28th of July, and,
from the chief part of them, not till mid-August.

169. This is a great matter. Not only have you the food earlier,
and so much earlier, from the genuine seed, but your ground is
occupied so much less time by the plants. The plants very soon
shewed, by their appearance, what would be the result ; for, on
the and of June, Miss Sarah Paul, a daughter of Mr. James Paul,
saw the plants, and while those from the English seed were even
then beginning to loave, those from her father's seed were nothing
more than bunches of wide spreading leaves, having no ap
pearance of forming a head. However, they succeeded the
plants from the English seed ; and, the whole, besides what were
used in the House, were given to the animals. As many of the
white loaves as were wanted for the purpose were boiled for sows
and small pigs, and the rest were given to lean pigs and the horn-
cattle : and a fine resource they were ; for, so dry was the weather,
and the devastations of the grass-hoppers so great, that we had
scarcely any grass in any part of the land ; and, if I had not had
these cabbages, I must have resorted to Indian Corn, or Grain
of some sort.

170. But, these spring-cabbage plants were to be succeeded
by others, to be eaten in September and onwards to January.
Therefore, on the 27th of May, I sowed in the natural ground
eleven sorts of cabbages, some of the seed from England and some
got from my friend, Mr. PAUL. I have noticed the extreme
drought of the season. Nevertheless, I have now about two acres
of cabbages of the following description. Half an acre of the
Early Salisbury (earliest of all cabbages) and Early York : about
3 quarters of an acre of the Drum-head and other late cabbages ;
and about the same quantity of Green Savoys. The first class
are fully loaved, ami bursting : with these I now feed my animals.
These will be finished by the time that I cut off my Swedish
Turnip Greens, as mentioned in Part I. Paragraph 136. Then,
about mid-December, I shall feed with the second class, the
Drum-heads and other late Cabbages. Then, those which are
not used before the hard frosts set in, I shall put up for use through
the month of January.

171. Aye ! Put them up : but how ? No scheme that industry
or necessity ever sought after, or that experience ever suggested,
with regard to the preserving of cabbages, did I leave untried last
year ; and, in every scheme but one I found some inconvenience.

CABBAGES

Taking them up and replanting them closely in a sloping manner
and covering them with straw ; putting them in pits ; hanging
them up in a barn ; turning their heads downwards and covering
them with earth, leaving the roots sticking up in the air : in short
every scheme, except one, was attended with great labour, and
some of them forbade the hope of being able to preserve any
considerable quantity ; and this one was as follows : I made a
sort of land with the plough, and made it pretty level at top.
Upon this land I laid some straw. I then took the cabbages,
turned them upside down, and placed them (first taking off all
decayed leaves) about six abreast upon the straw. Then covered
them, not very thickly, with leaves raked up in the woods, flinging
now and then a little dirt (boughs of any sort would be better) to
prevent the leaves from being carried off by the wind. So that,
when the work was done, the thing was a bed of leaves with
cabbage-roots sticking up through it. I only put on enough
leaves to hide all the green. If the frost came and prevented the
taking up of the cabbages, roots and all, they might be cut off
close to the ground. The root, I dare say, is of no use in the
preservation. In the months of April and May, I took cabbages
of all sorts from this land perfectly good and fresh. The quantity,
preserved thus, was small. It might amount to 200 cabbages.
But, it was quite sufficient for the purpose. Not only did the
cabbages keep better in this, than in any other way, but there they
were, at all times, ready. The frost had locked up all those which
were covered with earth, and those which lay with heads upwards
and their roots in the ground were rotting. But, to this land I
could have gone at any time, and have brought away, if the
quantity had been large, a waggon load in ten minutes. If they
had been covered with snozv (no matter how deep) by uncovering
twenty feet in length (a work of little labour) half a ton of cabbages
would have been got at. This year, thinking that my Savoys,
which are, at once, the best in quality and best to keep, of all
winter cabbages, may be of use to send to New York, I have
planted them between rows of Broom-Corn. The Broom- Corn
is in rows, eight feet apart. This enabled us to plough deep
between the Broom-Corn, which, though in poor land, has been
very fine. The heads are cut off ; and now the stalks remain to
be used as follows : I shall make lands up the piece, cut off the
stalks and lay them, first a layer longways and then a layer cross-
ways, upon the lands. Upon these I shall put my Savoys turned
upside down ; and, as the stalks will be more than sufficient for
this purpose, I shall lay some of them over, instead of dirt or
boughs, as mentioned before. Perhaps the leaves of the Broom-
Corn, which are lying about in great quantities, may suffice for
covering. And, thus, all the materials for the work are upon the
spot.

172. In quitting this matter, I may observe, that, to cover
cabbages thus, in gardens as well as fields, would, in many cases,

92

CABBAGES

be of great use in England, and of still more use in Scotland.
Sometimes, a quick succession of frost, snow and thaw will
completely rot every loaved cabbage even in the South of England.
Indeed no reliance is placed upon cabbages for use, as cattle-food,
later than the month of December. The bulk is so large that a
protection by houses of any sort cannot be thought of. Besides,
the cabbages, put together in large masses would heat and quickly
rot. In gentlemen's gardens, indeed, cabbages are put into houses,
where they are hung up by the heads. But, they zvither in this
state, or they soon putrefy even here. By adopting the mode of
preserving, which I have described above, all these inconveniences
would be avoided. Any quantity might be preserved either in
fields or in gardens at a very trifling expence, compared with the
bulk of the crop.

173. As to the application of my Savoys, and part of the Drum
heads, too, indeed, if I find cabbages very dear, at New York,
in winter, I shall send them ; if not, there they are for my cattle
and pigs. The weight of them will not be less, I should think,
than ten tons. The plants were put out by two men in one day :
and I shall think it very hard if two men do not put the whole
completely up in a week. The Savoys are very fine. A little too
late planted out ; but still very fine ; and they were planted out
under a burning sun and without a drop of rain for weeks after
wards. So far from taking any particular pains about these
Savoys, I did not see them planted, and I never saw them for
more than two months after they were planted. The ground for
them was prepared thus : the ground, in each interval between
the Broom-Corn, had been, some little time before, ploughed to
the rows. This left a deep furrow in the middle of the interval.
Into this furrow I put the manure. It was a mixture of good
mould and dung from pig-styes. The waggon went up the
interval, and the manure was drawn out and tumbled into the
furrow. Then the plough went twice on each side of the furrow,
and turned the earth over the manure. This made a ridge, and
upon this ridge the plants were planted as quickly after the plough
as possible.

174. Now, then, what is the trouble : what is the expence, of
all this ? The seed was excellent. I do not recollect ever having
seen so large a piece of the cabbage kind with so few spurious
plants. But, though good cabbage seed is of high price, I should
suppose, that the seed did not cost me a quarter of a dollar. Sup
pose, however, it had cost ten quarters of a dollar : what would
that have been, compared to the worth of the crop ? For, what
is the worth of ten tons of green, or moist food, in the month of
March or April ?

175. The Swedish Turnip is, indeed, still more conveniently
preserved, and is a richer food ; but, there are some reasons for
making part of the year's provision to consist of cabbages. As far
as a thing may depend on chance, two chances are better than one.

H 93

CABBAGES

In the summer and fall, cabbages get ripe, and, as I have observed,
in Part I. Paragraph 143, the Ruta Baga (which we will call
Swedish Turnip for the future) is not so good 'till it be ripe : and
is a great deal better when kept 'till February, than when used in
December. This matter of ripeness is worthy of attention. Let
any one eat a piece of white cabbage : and then eat a piece of the
same soit of cabbage young and green. The first he will find sweet,
the latter bitter. It is the same with Turnips, and with all roots.
There are some apples, wholly uneatable 'till kept a zvhile, and then
delicious. This is the case with the Swedish Turnip. Hogs
will, indeed, always eat it, young or old ; but, it is not nearly so
good early, as it is when kept 'till February. However, in default
of other things, I would feed with it even in November.

176. For these reasons I would have my due proportion of
cabbages, and I would always, if possible, have some Green
Savoys ; for, it is, with cabbages, too, not only quantity which we
ought to think of. The Drum-head, and some others, are called
cattle-cabbage : and hence, in England, there is an idea, that the
more delicate kinds of cabbage are not so good for cattle. But, the
fact is, that they are as much better for cattle, than the coarse
cabbages are, as they are better for us. It would be strange
indeed, that, reversing the principle of our general conduct, we
should give cabbage of the best quality to cattle, and keep that of
the worst quality for ourselves. In London, where taxation has
kept the streets as clear of bits of meat left on bones as the hogs
endeavour to keep the streets of New York, there are people who
go about selling " dog's meat." This consists of boiled garbage.
But, it is not pretended, I suppose, that dogs will not eat roast-
beef ; nor, is it, I suppose, imagined, that they would not prefer
the roast-beef, if they had their choice ? Some people pretend,
that garbage and carrion are better for dogs than beef and mutton
are. That is to say, it is better for us, that they should live upon
things, which we ourselves loath, than that they should share with
us. Self-interest is, but too frequently, a miserable logician.

177. However, with regard to cattle, sheep, and pigs, as we
intend to eat them, their claim to our kindness is generally more
particularly and impartially listened to than that of the poor dogs ;
though that of the latter, founded, as it is on their sagacity, their
fidelity, their real utility, as the guardians of our folds, our home
steads and our houses, and as the companions, or, rather, the
givers, of our healthful sports, is ten thousand times more strong,
than that of animals which live to eat, sleep, and grow fat. But,
to return to the cabbages, the fact is, that all sorts of animals,
which will eat them at all, like the most delicate kinds best ; and,
as some of these are also the earliest kinds, they ought to be
cultivated for cattle. Some of the larger kinds may be cultivated,
too : but, they cannot be got ripe till the fall of the year. Nor
is the difference in the weight of the crop so great as may be
imagined. On the same land, that will bear a Drum-head of
twenty pounds, an Early York, or Early Battersea will weigh four

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CABBAGES

pounds : and these may be fifteen inches asunder in the row, while
the Drum-head requires four feet. Mind, I always suppose the
rows to be four feet apart, as stated in the First Part of this work
and for the reasons there stated. Besides the advantages of having
some cabbages early, the early ones remain so little a time upon
the ground. Transplanted Swedish Turnips, or Buckwheat, or
late Cabbages, especially Savoys, may always follow them the
same year upon the same land. My early cabbages, this year,
have been followed by a second crop of the same, and now (mid-
November) they are hard and white and we are giving them to the
animals.

178. There is a convenience attending cabbages, v/hich attends
no other of the cattle-plants, namely, that of raising the plants
with very little trouble and upon a small bit of ground. A little
bed will give plants for an acre or two. The expence of seed, even
of the dearest kinds, is a mere trifle, not worth any man's notice.

179. For these reasons I adhere to cabbages as the companion
crop of Swedish Turnips. The Mangel Wurzel is long in the
ground. In seasons of great drought, it comes up unevenly.
The weeds get the start of it. Its tillage must begin before it
hardly shews itself. It is of the nature of the Beet, and it requires
the care which the Beet requires. The same may be said of
Carrots and Parsnips. The cabbage, until it be fit to plant out,
occupies hardly any ground. An hour's work cleans the bed of
weeds ; and there the plants are always ready when the land is
made ready. The Mangel Wurzel root, if quite ripe, is richer
than a white loaved cabbage ; but, it is not more easily preserved,
and will not produce a larger crop. Cattle will eat the leaves,
but hogs will not, when they can get the leaves of cabbages.
Nevertheless, some of this root may be cultivated. It will fat
an ox well ; and it will fat sheep well. Hogs will do well on it in
winter. I would, if I were a settled farmer, have some of it ; but,
it is not a thing upon which I would place my dependence.

1 80. As to the time of sowing cabbages, the first sowing should
be in a hot-bed, so as to have plants a month old when the frost
leaves the ground. The second sowing should be when the natural
ground has become warm enough to make the weeds begin to come up
freely. But, seed-beds of cabbages, and, indeed, of every thing,

should be in the open ; not under a fence, whatever may be the
aspect. The plants are sure to be weak, if sown in such situations.
They should have the air coming freely to them in every direction.
In a hot-bed, the seed should be sown in rows, three inches apart,
and the plants might be thinned out to one in a quarter of an inch.
This would give about ten thousand plants in a bed ten feet Icng,
and five wide. They will stand thus to get to a tolerable size
without injuring each other, if the bed be well managed as to heat
and air. In the open ground, where room is plenty, the rows
may be a foot apart, and the plants two inches apart in the rows.
This will allow of hoeing, and here the plants will grow very finely.

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CABBAGES

Mind, a large cabbage^plant, as well as a large turnip plant, is
better than a small one. All will grow, if well planted ; but the
large plant will grow best, and will, in the end, be the finest cabbage.
181. We have a way, in England, of greatly improving the
plants ; but, I am almost afraid to mention it, lest the American
reader should be frightened at the bare thought of the trouble.
When the plants, in the seed-bed, have got leaves about an inch
broad, we take them up, and transplant them in fresh ground,
at about four inches apart each way. Here they get stout and
straight : and, in about three weeks time, we transplant them
again into the ground where they are to come to perfection.
This is called pricking out. When the plant is removed the second
time, it is found to be furnished with new roots, which have shot
out of the butts of the long tap, or forked roots, which proceeded
from the seed. It, therefore, takes again more readily to the
ground, and has some earth adhere to it in its passage. One
hundred of pricked-out plants are always looked upon as worth
three hundred from the seed-bed. In short, no man, in England,
unless he be extremely negligent, ever plants out from the seed
bed. Let any farmer try this method with only a score of plants.
He may do it with three minutes' labour. Surely, he may spare
three minutes, and I will engage, that, if he treat these plants
afterwards as he does the rest, and, if all be treated well, and the
crop a fair one, the three minutes will give him fifty pounds weight
of any of the larger sorts of cabbages. Plants are thus raised, then
taken up and tied neatly in bundles, and then brought out of
Dorsetshire and Wiltshire, and sold in Hampshire for three-pence
(about six cents) a hundred. So that it cannot require the heart
of a lion to encounter the labour attending the raising of a few
thousands of plants.

182. However, my plants, this year, have all gone into the field
from the seed-bed ; and, in so fine a climate, it may do very well ;
only great care is necessary to be taken to see that they be not too
thick in the seed-bed.

183. As to the preparation of the land, as to the manuring, as
to the distance of the rows from each other, as to the act of planting,
and as to the after culture, all are the same as in the case of trans
planted Swedish Turnips ; and, therefore, as to these matters,
the reader has seen enough in Part I. There is one observation
to make, as to the depth to which the plant should be put into the
ground. It should be placed so deep, that the stems of the out
side leaves be just clear of the ground : for, if you put the plant
deeper, the rain will wash the loose earth in amongst the stems of
the leaves, which will make an open poor cabbage ; and, if the
plant be placed so low as for the heart to be covered with dirt, the
plant, though it will live, will come to nothing. Great care must,
therefore, be taken as to this matter. If the stems of the plants
be long, roots will burst out nearly all the way up to the surface
of the earth.

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CABBAGES

184. The distances at which cabbages oughtfto^ stand in the
rows must depend on the sorts. The following is nearly about
the mark. Early Salisbury a foot : Early York fifteen inches :
Early Battersea twenty inches : Sugar Loaf two feet ; Savoys
two feet and a half ; and the Drum-head, Thousand-headed,
Large Hollow, Ox cabbage, all four feet.

185. With regard to the time of sowing some more ought to
said ; for, we are not here, as in England, confined within four
or five degrees of latitude. Here some of us are living in fine,
warm weather, while others of us are living amidst snows. It
will be better, therefore, in giving opinions about times, to speak
of seasons, and not of months and days. The country people,
in England, go, to this day, many of them, at least, by the tides :
and, what is supremely ridiculous, they go, in some cases, by the
moveable tides. My gardener, at Botley, very reluctantly obeyed
me, one year, in sowing green Kale when I ordered him to do it,
because Whitsuntide was not come, and that, he said, was the
proper season. " But," said I, " Robinson, Whitsuntide comes
" later this year than it did last year." " Later, Sir," said he,
" how can that be ? " " Because," said I, " it depends upon the
" moon when Whitsuntide shall come." " The moon ! " said
he : " what sense can there be in that ? " " Nay," said I, " I
" am sure I cannot tell. That is a matter far beyond my learning.
" Go and ask Mr. BAKER, the Parson, He ought to be able to tell
" us ; for he has a tenth part of our garden stuff and fruit." The
Quakers here cast all this rubbish away ; and, one wonders how
it can possibly be still cherished by any portion of an enlightened
people. But, the truth is, that men do not think for themselves
about these matters. Each succeeding generation tread in the
steps of their fathers, whom they loved, honoured and obeyed.
They take all upon trust ; gladly save themselves the trouble
of thinking about things of not immediate interest. A desire
to avoid the reproach of being irreligious induces them to practise
an outward conformity. And thus have priest-craft with all its
frauds, extortions, and immoralities, lived and flourished in
defiance of reason and of nature.

186. However, as there are no farmers in America quite foolish
enough to be ruled by the tides in sowing and reaping, I hurry
back from this degression to say, that I cannot be expected to
speak of precise times for doing any work, except as relates to the
latitude in which I live, and in which my experiments have been
made. I have cultivated a garden at Frederickton in the Province
of New Brunszvick, which is in latitude about forty-eight : and at
Wilmington in Delaware State, which is in latitude about thirty-
nine. In both these places I had as fine cabbages, turnips, and
garden things of all the hardy sorts, as any man need wish to see.
Indian Corn grew and ripened well in fields at Frederickton.
And, of course, the summer was sufficient for the perfecting of all
plants for cattle-food . And , how necessary is this food in Northern

97

CABBAGES

Climates ! More to the Southward than Delaware State I have
not been ; but, in those countries the farmers have to pick and
choose. They have two Long Island summers and falls, and
three English, in every year.

187. According to these various circumstances men must form
their judgment ; but, it may be of some use to state the length
of time, which is required to bring each sort of cabbage to per
fection. The following sorts are, it appears to me, all that can,
in any case, be necessary. I have put against each nearly the time,
that it will require to bring it to perfection, from the time of
planting out in the places where the plants are to stand to come
to perfection. The plants are supposed to be of a good size when
put out, to have stood sufficiently thin in the seed-bed, and to
have been kept clear from weeds in that bed. They are also
supposed to go into ground well prepared.

Early Salisbury . . . Six weeks.
Early York .... Eight weeks.
Early Battersea . . . Ten weeks.
Sugar Loaf .... Eleven weeks.
Late Battersea . . . Sixteen weeks.
Red Kentish .... Sixteen weeks.
Drum-head . . "1
Thousand-headed i
Large hollow . ^» . Five months.
Ox cabbage . j
Savoy . J .

1 88. It should be observed, that Savoys, which are so very rich
in winter, are not so good, till they have been pinched by frost.
I have put red cabbage down as a sort to be cultivated, because
they are as good as the white of the same size, and because it
may be convenient, in the farmer's family, to have some of them.
The thousand-headed is of prodigious produce. You pull off the
heads, of which it bears a great number at first, and others come ;
and so on for months, if the weather permit ; so that this sort does
not take five months to bring its first heads to perfection. When
I say perfection, I mean quite hard : quite ripe. However, this
is a coarse cabbage, and requires great room. The Ox-cabbage
is coarser than the Drum-head. The Large hollow is a very fine
cabbage ; but it requires very good land. Some of all the sorts
would be best ; but, I hope, I have now given information enough
to enable any one to form a judgment correct enough to begin
with. Experience will be the best guide for the future. An
ounce of each sort of seed would perhaps, be enough ; and the
cost is, when compared with the object, too trifling to be thought
of.

189. Notwithstanding all that I have said, or can say, upon the
subject of cabbages, I am very well aware, that the extension of the

CABBAGES

cultivation of them, in America, will be a work of time. A pro
position to do any thing new, in so common a calling as agriculture,
is looked at with suspicion ; and, by some, with feelings not of the
kindest description ; because it seems to imply an imputation of
ignorance in those to whom the proposition is made. A little
reflection will, however, suppress this feeling in men of sense ;
and, those who still entertain it may console themselves with the
assurance, that no one will desire to compel them to have stores of
green, or moist, cattle-food in winter. To be ashamed to be
taught is one of the greatest of human follies ; but, I must say,
that it is a folly less prevalent in America than in any other country
with which I am acquainted.

190. Besides the disposition to reject novelties, this proposition
of mine has books to contend against. I read, last fall, in an
American Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, " greatly
enlarged and improved" some observations on the culture of
cabbages as cattle-food, which were well calculated to deter a
reader of that book from attempting the culture. I do not recollect
the words : but, the substance was, that this plant could not be
cultivated to advantage by the farmer IN AMERICA. This was the
more provoking to me, as I had, at that moment, so fine a piece of
cabbages in Long Island. If the American Editor of this work
had given his readers the bare, unimproved, Scotch Edition, the
reader would have there seen, that, in England and Scotland, they
raise sixty-eight tons of cabbages (tons mind) upon an acre : and
that the whole expence of an acre, exclusive of rent, is one pound,
fourteen shillings and a penny : or seven dollars and seventy-five
cents. Say that the expence in America is double and the crop
one half, or one fourth, if you like. Where are seventeen tons
of green food in winter, or even in summer, to be got for sixteen
dollars : Nay, where is that quantity, of such a quality, to be got
for fifty dollars? The Scotch Edition gives an account of fifty -
four tons raised on an acre where the land was worth only twelve
shillings (less than three dollars) an acre. In fairness, then the
American Editor should have given to his agricultural readers
what the Scotchman had said upon the subject. And, if he still
thought it right to advise the American farmers not to think of
cabbages, he should, I think, have offered them some, at least,
of the reasons for his believing, that that which was obtained in
such abundance in England and Scotland, was not to be obtained
to any profit at all here. What ! will not this immense region
furnish a climate, for this purpose, equal even to Scotland, where
an oat will hardly ripen ; and where the crop of that miserable
grain is sometimes harvested amidst ice and snow ! The pro
position is, upon the face of it, an absurdity ; and my experience
proves it to be false.

191. This book says, if I recollect rightly, that the culture has
been tried, and has failed. Tried ? How tried ? That cabbages,
and most beautiful cabbages will grow, in all parts of America,

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CABBAGES

every farmer knows ; for he has them in his garden, or sees them,
every year, in the gardens of others. And, if they will grow in
gardens, why not infields ? Is there common sense in supposing,
that they will not grow in a piece of land, because it is not called
a garden ? The Encyclopaedia Britannica gives an account of
twelve acres of cabbages, which would keep "forty-five oxen and
" sixty sheep for three months : improving them as much as the
" grass in the best months in the year (in England) May, June,
" and July." Of these large cabbages, being at four feet apart in
the rows, one man will easily plant out an acre in a day. As to
the seed-bed, the labour of that is nothing, as we have seen. Why,
then, are men frightened at the labour ? All but the mere act of
planting is performed by oxen or horses ; and they never com
plain of " the labour" The labour of an acre of cabbages is
not half so much as that of an acre of Indian Corn. The bringing
in of the crop and applying it are not more expensive than those
of the corn. And will any man pretend, that an acre of good
cabbages is not worth three times as much as a crop of good corn ?
Besides, if early cabbages, they are off and leave the land for
transplanted Swedish Turnips, for Late Cabbages, or for Buck
wheat ; and, if late cabbages, they come after early ones, after
wheat, rye, oats, or barley. This is what takes place even in
England, where the fall is so much shorter, as to growing weather,
than it is in Long Island, and, of course, all the way to Georgia.
More to the North, in the latitude of Boston, for instance, two
crops of early cabbages will come upon the same ground ; or a
crop of early cabbages will follow any sort of grain, except
Buckwheat.

192. In concluding this Chapter I cannot help strongly recom
mending farmers who may be disposed to try this culture, to try
it fairly. That is to say, to employ true seed, good land, and due
care : for, as " men do not gather grapes from thorns, nor figs
" from thistles," so they do not harvest cabbages from stems of
rape. Then, as to the land, it must be made good and rich, if
it be not in that state already ; for a cabbage will not be fine,
where a white Turnip will ; but as the quantity of land, wanted for
this purpose, is comparatively very small, the land may easily
be made rich. The after-culture of cabbages is trifling. No
weeds to plague us with hand-work. Two good ploughings,
at most, will suffice. But ploughing after planting out is
necessary ; and, besides, it leaves the ground in so fine a state.
The trial may be on a small scale, if the farmer please. Perhaps
it were best to be such. But, on whatever scale, let the trial
be a fair trial.

193. I shall speak again to the use of cabbages, when I corne to
speak of Hogs and Cows.

CHAPTER IV.

EARTH-BURNING, l8l8.

194. IN paragraphs 99, 100, and 101, I spoke of a mode of pro
curing manure by the burning of earth, and I proposed to try it
this present year. This I have now done, and I proceed to give
an account of the result.

195. I have tried the efficacy of this manure on Cabbages,
Swedish Turnips, Indian Corn, and Buckwheat. In the three
former cases the Ashes were put into the furrow and the earth
was turned over them, in the same way that I have described, in
Paragraph 177, with regard to the manure for Savoys. I put at
the rate of about twenty tons weight to an acre. In the case of the
Buckwheat, the Ashes were spread out of the waggon upon a
little strip of land on the out-side of the piece. They were thickly
spread ; and it might be, that the proportion exceeded even
thirty tons to the acre. But, upon the part where the ashes were
spread, the Buckwheat was three or four times as good as upon the
land adjoining. The land was very poor. It bore Buckwheat
last year, without any manure. It had two good ploughings then,
and it had two good ploughings again this year, but had no manure,
except the part above-mentioned and one other part at a great
distance from it. So that the trial was very fair indeed.

196. In every instance the ashes produced great effect : and I
am now quite certain, that any crop may be raised with the help
of this manure ; that is to say, any sort of crop ; for, of dung,
wood-ashes, and earth-ashes, when all are ready upon the spot,
without purchase or carting from a distance, the two former are
certainly to be employed in preference to the latter, because a
smaller quantity of them will produce the same effect, and, of
course, the application of them is less expensive. But, in taking
to a farm unprovided with the two former ; or under circum
stances which make it profitable to add to the land under cultiva
tion, what can be so convenient, what so cheap, as ashes procured
in this way ?

197. A near neighbour of mine, Mr. DAYREA, sowed a piece of
Swedish Turnips, broad-cast, in June, this year. The piece was
near a wood, and there was a great quantity of clods of a grassy
description. These he burnt into ashes, which ashes he spread

101

EARTH-BURNING

over one half of the piece, while he put soaper's ashes over the other
part of the piece. I saw the turnips in October ; and there was
no visible difference in the two parts, whether as to the vigorous-
ness of the plants or the bulk of the turnips. They were sown
broad-cast, and stood unevenly upon the ground. They were
harvested a month ago (it is now 26 November), which was a
month too early. They would have been a third, at least, more
in bulk, and much better in quality, if they had remained in the
ground until now. The piece was 70 paces long and 7 paces
wide ; and, the reader will find, that, as the piece produced forty
bushels, this was at the rate of four hundred bushels to the acre.

198. What quantity of earth ashes were spread on this piece it is
impossible to ascertain with precision ; but, I shall suppose the
quantity to have been very large indeed in proportion to the
surface of the land. Let it be four times the quantity of the
soaper's ashes. Still, the one was made upon the spot, at, perhaps,
a tenth part of the cost of the other ; and, as such ashes can be
made upon any farm, there can be no reason for not trying the
thing, at any rate, and which trying may be effected upon so small
a scale as not to exceed in expence a half of a dollar. I presume,
that many farmers will try this method of obtaining manure ;
and, therefore, I will describe how the burning is effected.

199. There are two ways of producing ashes from earth : the
one in heaps upon the ground, and the other within walls of turf,
or earth. The first, indeed, is the burning of turf, or peat . But,
let us see how it is done.

200. The surface of the land is taken off to a depth of two or
threeinches, and turned the earth side uppermost to dry. The land,
of course is covered with grass, or heath, or something, the roots
of which hold it together, and which makes the part taken off take
the name of turf. In England, this operation is performed with
a turf-cutter, and by hand. The turfs are then taken, or a part
of them, at least, and placed on their edges, leaning against each
other, like the two sides of the roof of a house. In this state
they remain, 'till they are dry enough to burn. Then the burning
is begun in this way. A little straw and some dry sticks, or any
thing that will make a trifling fire, is lighted. Some little bits of
the turf are put to this. When the turf is on fire, more bits are
carefully put round against the openings whence the smoke issues.
In the course of a day or two the heap grows large. The burnings
keeps working on the inside, though there never appears any
blase. Thus the field is studded with heaps. After the first
fire is got to be of considerable bulk, no straw is wanted for other
heaps, because a good shovel full of fire can be carried to light
other heaps ; and so, until all the heaps are lighted. Then the
workman goes from heap to heap, and carries the turf to all, by
degrees, putting some to each heap every day or two, until all the
field be burnt. He takes care to keep in the smoke as much as
possible. When all the turf is put on, the field is left ; and, in

EARTH-BURNING

a v/eek or two, whether it rain or not, the heaps are ashes instead
of earth. The ashes are afterwards spread upon the ground ;
the ground is ploughed and sowed ; and this is regarded as the
very best preparation for a crop of turnips.

201. This is called "paring and burning." It was introduced
into England by the Romans, and it is strongly recommended in
the First Georgic of Virgil, in, as Mr. TULL shows, very fine
poetry, very bad philosophy, and still worse logic. It gives three
or four crops upon even poor land ; but, it ruins the land for an
age. Hence it is, that tenants, in England, are, in many cases,
restrained from paring and burning, especially towards the close
of their leases. It is the Roman husbandry, which has always
been followed, until within a century, by the French and English.
It is implicitly followed in France to this day ; as it is by the great
mass of common farmers in England. All the foolish country
sayings about Friday being an unlucky day to begin any thing fresh
upon ; about the noise of Geese foreboding bad weather ; about
the signs of the stars : about the influence of the moon on animals,
these, and scores of others, equally ridiculous and equally injurious
to true philosophy and religion, came from the Romans, and are
inculcated in those books, which pedants call " classical," and
which are taught to " young gentlemen " at the universities and in
academies. Hence, too, the foolish notions of sailors about
Friday, which notions very often retard the operations of com
merce. I have known many a farmer, when his wheat was dead
ripe, put off the beginning of harvest from Thursday to Saturday,
in order to avoid Friday. The stars save hundreds of thousands
of lambs and pigs from sexual degradation at so early an age as the
operation would otherwise be performed upon them. These
heathen notions still prevail even in America as far as relates to
this matter. A neighbour of mine in Long Island, who was to
operate on some pigs and lambs for me, begged me to put the thing
off for a while ; for, that the Almanac told him, that the signs were,
just then, as unfavourable as possible. I begged him to proceed,
for that I set all stars at defiance. He very kindly complied, and
had the pleasure to see, that every pig and lamb did well. He was
surprized when I told him, that this mysterious matter was not
only a bit of priest-craft, but of heathen priest-craft, cherished by
priests of a more modern date, because it tended to bewilder the
senses and to keep the human mind in subjection. " What a
" thing it is, Mr. Wiggins," said I, " that a cheat practised upon
" the pagans of Italy, two or three thousand years ago, should, by
" almanac-makers, be practised on a sensible farmer in America ! "
If priests, instead of preaching so much about mysteries, were to
explain to their hearers the origin of cheats like this, one might
be ready to allow, that the wages paid to them were not wholly
thrown away.

202. I make no apology for this digression ; for, if it have a
tendency to set the minds of only a few persons on the track of

103

EARTH-BURNING

detecting the cheatery of priests, the room which it occupies will
have been well bestowed.

203. To return to paring and burning : the reader will see with
what ease it might be done in America, where the sun would do
more than half the work. Besides the paring might be done with
the plough. A sharp shear, going shallow, could do the thing
perfectly well. Cutting across would make the sward into turfs.

204. So much for paring and burning. But, what I recommend
is, not to burn the land which is to be cultivated, but other earth,
for the purpose of getting ashes to be brought on the land. And
this operation, I perform thus : I make a circle, or an oblong
square. I cut sods and build a wall all round, three feet thick
and four feet high. I then light a fire in the middle with straw,
dry sticks, boughs, or such like matter. I go on making this fire
larger and larger till it extends over the whole of the bottom of the
pit, or kiln. I put on roots of trees or any rubbish wood, till there
be a good thickness of strong coals. I then put on the driest of
the clods that I have ploughed up round about so as to cover all
the fire over. The earth thus put ih will burn. You will see
the smoke coming out at little places here and there. Put more
clods wherever the smoke appears. Keep on thus for a day or
two. By this time a great mass of fire will be in the inside. And
now you may dig out the clay, or earth, any where round the kiln,
and fling it on without ceremony, always taking care to keep in the
smoke : for, if you suffer that to continue coming out at any one
place, a hole will soon be made ; the main force of the fire will
draw to that hole ; a blaze, like that of a volcano will come out,
and the fire will be extinguished.

205. A very good way, is, to put your finger into the top of the
heap here and there ; and if you find the fire very near, throw on
more earth. Not too much at a time : for that weighs too heavily
on the fire, and keeps it back ; and, at first, will put it partially
out. You keep on thus augmenting the kiln, till you get to the
top of the walls, and then you may, if you like, raise the walls,
and still go on. No rain will affect the fire when once it is become
strong.

206. The principle is to keep out air, whether at the top or the
sides, and this you are sure to do, if you keep in the smoke. I
burnt, this last summer, about thirty waggon loads in one round
kiln, and never saw the smoke at all after the first four days. I
put in my finger to try whether the fire was near the top ; and
when I found it approaching, I put on more earth. Never was a
kiln more completely burnt.

207. Now, this may be done on the skirt of any wood, where
the matters are all at hand. This mode is far preferable to the
above-ground burning in heaps. Because, in the first place, there
the materials must be turf, and dry turf ; and, in the next place,
the smoke escapes there, which is the finest part of burnt matter.
Soot, we know well, is more powerful than ashes ; and, soot is

104

EARTH-BURNING

composed of the grossest part of the smoke. That which flies out
of the chimney is the best part of all.

208. In case of a want of wood wherewith to begin the fire, the
fire may be lighted precisely as in the case of paring and burning.
If the kiln be large, the oblong square is the best figure. About
ten feet zvide, because then a man can fling the earth easily over
every part. The mode they pursue in England, where there is no
taood, is to make a sort of building in the kiln with turfs, and leave
air-holes at the corners of the walls, till the fire be well begun.
But this is tedious work ; and, in this country wholly unnecessary.
Care must, however, be taken, that the fire be well lighted. The
matter put in at first should be such as is of the lightest description;
so that a body of earth on fire may be obtained, before it be too
heavily loaded.

209. The burning being completed, having got the quantity
you want, let the kiln remain. The fire will continue to work,
'till all is ashes. If you want to use the ashes sooner, open the
kiln. They will be cold enough to remove in a week.

210. Some persons have peat, or bog earth. This may be burnt
like common earth, in kilns, or dry, as in the paring and burning
method. Only, the peat should be cut out in the shape of bricks,
as much longer and bigger as you find convenient, and set up to
dry, in the same way that bricks are set up to dry previous to the
burning. This is the only fuel for houses in some parts of England.
I myself was nursed and brought up without ever seeing any other
sort of fire. The ashes used, in those times, to be sold for four
pence sterling a bushel, and were frequently carried, after the
purchase, to a distance of ten miles, or more : At this time, in
rny own neighbourhood, in Hampshire, peat is burnt in large
quantities for the ashes, which are sold, I believe, as high as
sixpence sterling a bushel, and carried to a distance even of twenty
miles in some cases.

211. Nevertheless it is certain, that these ashes are not equally
potent upon every sort of soil. We do not use them much at
Botley, though upon the spot. They are carried away to the
higher and poorer lands, where they are sozvn by hand upon clover
and sain-foin. An excellent farmer, in this Island, assures me,
that he has tried, them in various ways, and never found them to
have effect. So say the farmers near Botley. But, there is no
harm in making a trial. It is done with a mere nothing of expence.
A yard square in a garden is quite sufficient for the experiment.

212. With respect to earth-ashes, burnt in kilns, keeping in the
smoke, I have proved their great good effect ; but, still, I would
recommend trying them upon a small scale. However, let it be
borne in mind, that the proportion to the acre ought to be large.
Thirty good tons to an acre ; and why may it not be such, seeing
that the expence is so trifling ?

105

CHAPTER V.

TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN.

213. I WAS always of opinion, that this would be the best mode,
under certain circumstances, of dealing with this crop. The
spring, in this part of America, and further to the North, is but
short. It is nearly winter 'till it is summer. The labours of the
year are, at this season, very much crowded. To plant the grains
of the Indian Corn over a whole field requires previous ploughing,
harrowing, marking, and manuring. The consequence is, that,
as there are so many other things to do, something is but too often
badly done.

214. Now, if this work of Corn planting could be postponed to
the 25th of June (for this Island) instead of being performed on,
or about the I5th of May, how well the ground might be prepared
by the 25th of June ! This can be done only by transplanting the
plants of the Corn. I was resolved to try this ; and so confident
was I that it would succeed, that I had made some part of my
preparations for six acres.

215. I sowed the seed at about three inches apart, in beds, on
the zoth of May. The plants stood in the beds (about 15 perches
of ground) till the first of July. They were now two feet and a
half high : and I was ready to begin planting out. The weather
had been dry in the extreme. Not a drop of rain for nearly a
month. My land was poor, but clean ; and I ought to have
proceeded to do the job at once. My principal man had heard
BO much in ridicule of the project, that he was constantly begging
and praying me not to persevere. " Every body said it was
" impossible for the Corn to live ! " However, I began. . I
ploughed a part of the field into four-feet ridges, and, one evening,
set on, thus : I put a good quantity of earth-ashes in the deep
furrow between the ridges, then turned back the earth over them,
and then planted the Corn on the ridge, at a foot apart. We
pulled up the plants without ceremony, cut off their roots to half an
inch long, cut off their leaves about eight inches down from their
points,, and, with a long setting stick, stuck them about seven
inches into the ground down amongst the fresh mould and ashes.

216. This was on the ist of July in the evening ; and, not willing
to be laughed at too much, 1 thought I would pause two or three

1 06

TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN

days ; for, really, the sun seemed as if it would burn up the very
earth. At the close of the second day, news was brought me,
that the Corn was all dead. I went out and looked at it, and
though I saw that it was not dead, I suffered the everlasting
gloomy peal that my people rang in my ears to extort from me
my consent to the pulling up of the rest of the plants and throwing
them atvay : consent which was acted upon with such joy, alacrity,
and zeal, that the whole lot were lying under the garden fence in
a few minutes. My man intended to give them to the oxen, from
the charitable desire, I suppose, of annihilating this proof of his
master's folly. He would have pulled up the two rows which we
had transplanted ; but I would not consent to that ; for, I was
resolved, that they should have a week's trial. At the end of the
week I went out and looked at them. I slipped out at a time
when no one teas likely to see me ! At a hundred yards' distance
the plants looked like so many little Corn stalks in November ;
but, at twenty yards, I saw that all was right, and I began to re
proach myself for having suffered my mind to be thwarted in its
purpose by opinions opposed to principles. I saw, that the plants
were all alive, and had begun to shoot in the heart. I did not stop
a minute. I hastened back to the garden to see whether any of the
plants, which lay in heaps, were yet alive.

217. Now, mind, the plants were put out on the first of July ;
the 15 succeeding days were not only dry, but the very hottest
of this gloriously hot summer. The plants that had been flung
away were, indeed, nearly all dead : but, some, which lay. at the
bottoms of the heaps, were not only alive, but had shot their roots
into the ground. I resolved to plant out two rows of these, even
these. While I was at it Mr. JUDGE MITCHELL called upon me.
He laughed at us very heartily. This was on the 8 th of July.
I challenged him to take him three to one my two rows against any
two rows of his corn of equal length ; and he is an excellent
farmer en excellent land. " Then," said I, "if you are afraid
" to back your opinion, I do not mind your laugh."

218. On the ayth of August Mr. JUDGE MITCHELL and his
brother the justly celebrated DOCTOR MITCHELL did me the
honour to call here. I was gone to the mill ; but they saw the
Corn. The next day I had the pleasure to meet Doctor Mitchell,
for the first time, at his brother's ; and a very great pleasure it
was ; for a man more full of knowledge and apparently less,
conscious of it, I never saw in my life. But, the Corn : " What
do you think of my Corn now ? " I asked Mr. MITCHELL,
whether he did not think I should have won the wager. " Why
" I do not know, indeed," said he, " as to the two first planted
" rows."

219. On the loth of September, Mr. JUDGE LAWRENCE, in
company with a young gentleman, saw the Corn. He examined
the ears. Said that they were well-filled, and the grains large.
He made some calculations as to the amount of the crop. I

107

TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN

think he agreed with me, that it would be at the rate of about
forty bushels to the acre. All that now remained was to harvest
the Corn, in a few weeks' time, to shell, to weigh it ; and to obtain
a couple of rows of equal length of every neighbour surrounding
me ; and then, make the comparison, the triumphant result of
which I anticipated with so much certainty, that my impatience
for the harvest exceeded in degree the heat of the weather, though
that continued broiling hot. That very night ! the night following
the day when Mr. JUDGE LAWRENCE saw the Corn, eight or nine
steers and heifers leaped, or broke, into my pasture from the road,
kindly poked down the fence of the field to take with them four
oxen of my own which had their heads tied down, and in they all
went just upon the transplanted Corn, of which they left neither
ear nor stem, except about two bushels of ears which they had, in
their haste, trampled under foot ! What a mortification ! Half
an acre of fine cabbages nearly destroyed by the biting a hole in
the hearts of a great part of them ; turnips torn up and trampled
about ; a scene of destruction and waste, which, at another time,
would have made me stamp and rave (if not swear) like a mad
man, seemed now nothing at all. The Corn was such a blow,
that nothing else was felt. I was, too, both hand-tied and tongue-
tied. I had nothing to wreak my vengeance on. In the case of
the Boroughmongers I can repay blow with blow, and, as they
have already felt, with interest and compound interest. But,
there was no human being that I could blame ; and, as to the
depredators themselves, though in this instance, their conduct
did seem worthy of another being, whom priests have chosen to
furnish with horns as well as tail, what was I to do against them ?
In short, I had, for once in my life, to submit peaceably and
quietly, and to content myself with a firm resolution never to
plant, or sow, again without the protection of a fence, which an
ox cannot get over and which a pig cannot go under.

220. This Corn had every disadvantage to contend with : poor
land ; no manure but earth-ashes burnt out of that same land ;
planted in dry earth ; planted in dry and hot weather ; no rain
to enter two inches, until the 8th of August, nine and thirty days
after the transplanting ; and yet, every plant had one good perfect
ear, and, besides, a small ear to each plant : and some of the plants
had three ears, two perfect and one imperfect. Even the two
last-planted rows, though they were not so good, were not bad.
My opinion is, that their produce would have been at the rate of
25 bushels to the acre ; and this is not a bad crop of Corn.

221. For my part, if I should cultivate Corn again, I shall
transplant it to a certainty. Ten days earlier, perhaps ; but I
shall certainly transplant what I grow. I know, that the labour
will be less, and I believe that the crop will be far greater. No
dropping the seed ; no hand-hoeing ; no patching after the cut
worm, or brown grub : no suckers : no grass and weeds ; no
stifling : every plant has its proper space ; all is clean ; and one

108

TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN

good deep ploughing, or two at most, leaves the ground as clean
as a garden ; that is to say, as a garden ought to be. The sowing
of the seed in beds is one day's work (for ten acres) for one man.
Hoeing the young plants, another day. Transplanting, four
dollars an acre to the very outside. " But where are the hands
" to come from to do the transplanting ? " One would think,
that, to hear this question so often repeated, the people in America
were like the Rhodian Militia, described in the beautiful poem
of Dryden, " mouths without hands." Far, however, is this
from being the case ; or else, where would the hands come from
to do the marking : the dropping and covering of the Corn ; the
hand-hoeing of it, sometimes twice ; the patching after the grubs ;
the suckering when that work is done, as it always ought to be ?
Put the plague and expences of all these operations together, and
you will, I believe, find them to exceed four or even six, dollars
an acre, if they be all well done, and the Corn kept perfectly
clean.

222. The transplanting of ten acres of Corn cannot be done all
in one day by two or three men ; nor is it at all necessary that it
should. It may be done within the space of twelve or fourteen
days. Little boys and girls, very small, will carry the plants,
and if the farmer will but try, he will stick in an acre a day himself :
for, observe, nothing is so easily done. There is no fear of dearth.
The plants, in soft ground, might almost be poked down like so
many sticks. I did not try it ; but, I am pretty sure, that tha
roots might be cut all off close, so that the stump were left entire,
For, mind, a fibre, of a stout thing, never grows again after re
moval. New ones must come out of new roots, too, or the plant,
whether corn or tree, will die. When some people plant trees,
they are so careful not to cut off the little hairy fibres : for these.
they think, will catch hold of the ground immediately. If, when
they have planted in the fall, they were to open the ground in
June the next year, what would be their surprise to find all the
hairy fibres in a mouldy state, and the new small roots shot out
of the big roots of the tree, and no new fibres at all yet ? for, these
come out of the new small roots ! It is the same with every sort
of plant, except of a very small size and very quickly moved from
earth to earth.

223. If any one choose to try this method of cultivating Corn,
let him bear in mind, that the plants ought to be strong, and nearly
two feet high. The leaves should be shortened by all means ;
for, they must perish at the tops before the new flow of sap can
reach them. I have heard people say, that they have tried trans
planting Corn very often, but have never found it to answer.
But how have they tried it ? Why, when the grub has destroyed
a hill, they have taken from other hills the superabundant plants
and filled up the vacancy. In the first place, they have done this
when the plants were small ; that is not my plan. Then they
have put the plants in stale hard ground ; that is not my plan.

I 109

TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN

Then they have put them into ground where prosperous neigh
bours had the start of them ; that is not my plan. I am not at all
surprized, that they have not found their plan to answer : but,
that is no reason that mine should not answer. The best way will
be to try three rows in any field, and see which method requires the
least labour and produces the largest crop.

224. At any rate, the facts, which I have stated upon this subject
are curious in themselves ; they are useful, as they shew what we
may venture to do in the removing of plants ; and they shew most
clearly how unfounded are the fears of those, who imagine, that
Corn is injured by ploughing between it and breaking its roots.
My plants owed their vigour and their fruit to their removal into
fresh pasture : and, the oftener the land is ploughed between
growing crops of any sort (allowing the roots to shoot between the
ploughings) the better it is. I remember that LORD RANELAH
showed me in 1806, in his garden at Fulham, a peach tree, which
he had removed in full bloom, and that must have been in March,
and which bore a great crop of fine fruit the same year. If a tree
can be thus dealt with, why need we fear to transplant such things
as Indian Corn ?

no

CHAPTER VI.

SWEDISH TURNIPS.

225. UPON this subject I have no great deal to add to what was-
said in Part I. Chap. II. There are a few things, however, that
I omitted to mention, which I will mention here.

226. I sow my seed by hand. All machinery is imperfect for
this purpose. The wheel of the drill meets with a sudden check ;
it jumps ; the holes are stopped ; a clogging or an improper
impelling takes place ; a gap is produced, and it can never be put
to rights ; and, after all, the sowing upon four feet ridges is very
nearly as quickly performed by hand. I make the drills, or
channels, to sow the seed in by means of a light roller, which is
drawn by a horse, which rolls two ridges at a time, and which
has two markers following the roller, making a drill upon the top
of each ridge. This saves time ; but, if the hand do the whole,
a man will draw the drills, sow the seed, and cover an acre in a day
with ease.

227. The only mischief in this case, is that of sowing too thick :
and this arises from the seed being so nearly of the colour of the
earth. To guard against this evil, I this year adopted a method
which succeeded perfectly. I wetted the seed with water a little,
I then put some whitening to it, and by rubbing them well together,
the seed became white instead of brown : so that the man when
sowing, could see what he was about.

228. In my directions for transplanting turnips I omitted to
mention one very important thing ; the care to be taken not to
bury the heart of the plant. I observed how necessary it was to
fix the plant firmly in the ground : and, as the planter is strictly
charged to do this, he is apt to pay little attention to the means
by which the object is accomplished. The thing is done easily
enough, if you cram the butts of the leaves down below the surface.
But, this brings the earth, with the first rain at least, over the
heart of the plant ; and then it will never grow at all : it will just
live : but will never increase in size one single jot. Care, there
fore, must be taken of this. The fixing is to be effected by the
stick being applied to the point of the root ; as mentioned in
paragraph 85. Not to fix the plant is a great fault ; but to bury
the heart is a much greater ; for, if this be done, the plant is sure
to die.

SWEDISH TURNIPS

229. My own crop of Swedish Turnips this year is far inferior
to that of last in every respect. The season has been singularly
unfavourable to all green and root crops. The grass has been
barer than it was, I believe, ever known to be ; and, of course,
other vegetables have experienced a similar fate. Yet, I have
some very good turnips ; and, even with such a season, they are
worth more than three times what a crop of Corn on the same
land would have been. I am now (25th Nov.) giving the greens
to my cow and hogs. A cow and forty stout hogs eat the greens
of about twenty or thirty rods of turnips in a day. My five acres
of greens will last about 25 days. I give no corn or grain of any
sort to these hogs, and my English hogs are quite fat enough for
fresh pork. I have about 25 more pigs to join these forty in a
month's time : about 40 more will join those before April. My
cabbages on an acre and a half of ground will carry me well on
till February (unless I send my Savoys to New York), and, when
the cabbages are done, I have my Swedish Turnips for March,
April, May and June, with a great many to sell if I choose. I
have, besides, a dozen ewes to keep on the same food, with a few
wethers and lambs, for my house. In June Early Cabbages
come in : and then the hogs feed on them. Thus the year is
brought round.

230. But, what pleases me most, as to the Swedish Turnips,
is, that several of my neighbours have tried the culture, and have
far surpassed me in it this year. Their land is better than mine,
and they have had no Borough- villians and Bank-villians to fight
against. Since my Turnips were sown, I have written great part
of a Grammar and have sent twenty Registers to England, besides
writing letters amounting to a reasonable volume in bulk ; the
whole of which has made an average of nine pages of common print
a day, Sundays included. And, besides this, I have been twelve
days from home, on business, and about five on visits. Now,
whatever may have been the quality of the writings ; whether they
demanded mind or not, is no matter : they demanded time for the
fingers to move in, and yet, I have not written a hundred pages by
candle-light. A man knows not what he can do 'till he tries.
But, then, mind, I have always been up with the cocks and hens ;
and I have drunk nothing but milk and water. It is a saying, that
" wine inspires wit " : and that " in wine there is truth." These
sayings are the apologies of drinkers. Every thing that produces
intoxication, though in but the slightest degree, is injurious to
the mind : whether it be such to the body or not, is a matter of far
less consequence. My Letter to Mr. TIERNEY, on the state of the
Paper-Money, has, I find, produced a great and general impression
in England. The subject was of great importance, and the
treating it involved much of that sort of reasoning which is the
most difficult of execution. That Letter, consisting of thirty-
tzvo full pages of print, I wrote in one day, and that, too, on the
i ith of July, the hottest day in the year. But, I never could have

SWEDISH TURNIPS

done this, if I had been guzzling wine, or grog, or beer, or cider,
all the day. I hope the reader will excuse this digression ; and,
for my own part, I think nothing of the charge of egotism, if, by
indulging in it, I produce a proof of the excellent effects of sobriety.
It is not drunkenness that I cry out against : that is beastly, and
beneath my notice. It is drinking : for a man may be a great
drinker, and yet no drunkard. He may accustom himself to
swallow, 'till his belly is a sort of tub. The Spaniards, who are
a very sober people, call such a man " a wine bag," it being the
custom in that country to put wine into bags, made of skins or
hides. And, indeed, wine bag or grog bag or beer bag is the suitable
appellation.

231. To return to the Swedish Turnips, it was impossible for
me to attend to them in person at all : for, if I once got out, I
should have kept out. I was very anxious about them ; but much
more anxious about my duty to my countrymen, who have re
mained so firmly attached to me, and in whose feelings and viewrs,
as to public matters, I so fully participate. I left my men to do
their best, and, considering the season, they did very well. I have
observed before, that I never saw my Savoys 'till two months after
they were planted out in the field, and I never saw some of my
Swedish Turnips 'till within these fifteen days.

232. But, as I said before, some of my neighbours have made the
experiment with great success. I mentioned Mr. Dayrea's crop
before, at paragraph 197. Mr. HART, at South Hampstead, has
a fine piece, as my son informs me. His account is, that the field
looked, in October, as fine as any that he ever saw in England.
Mr. JUDGE MITCHELL has a small field that were, when I saw them,
as fine as any that I ever saw in my life. He had transplanted
some in the driest and hottest weather ; and they were exceedingly
fine, notv/ithstanding the singular untowardness of the season.

233. Mr. JAMES BYRD of Flushing, has, however, done the thing
upon the largest scale. He sowed, in June, about two acres arid a
half upon ridges thirty inches apart. They were very fine ; and,
in September, their leaves met across the intervals. On the 2ist
of September I saw them for the second time. The field was one
body of beautiful green. The weather still very dry. I advised
Mr. Byrd to plough between them by all means ; for the roots had
met long before across the interval. He observed, that the horse
would trample on the leaves. I said, " never mind : the good done
" by the plough will be ten times greater than the injury done by
" the breaking of leaves." He said, that, great as his fears were,
he would follow my advice. I saw the turnips again on the 8th
of October, when I found, that he had begun the ploughing ;
but, that the horse made such havock amongst the leaves, and his
workman made such clamorous remonstrances, that, after doing a
little piece, Mr. Byrd desisted. These were reasons wholly in
sufficient to satisfy me ; and at the latter, the remonstrances of a
workman, I should have ridiculed, without a grain of mercy ; only

"3

SWEDISH TURNIPS

I recollected, that my men had remonstrated me (partly with
sorrowful looks and shakes of the head) out of my design to
transplant six acres of Indian Corn.

234. Mr. BYRD'S crop was about 350 bushels to an acre. I was
at his house on the 23id of this month (November) ; and there I
heard two things from him which I communicate with great
pleasure. The first was, that, from the time he began taking up
his turnips, he began feeding his cows upon the greens : and, that
this doubled the quantity of their milk. That the greens might
last as long as possible, he put them in small heaps, that they might
not heat. He took up his turnips, however, nearly a month too
early. They grow till the hard frosts come. The greens are
not so good till they have had some little frost : and, the bulb
should be ripe. I have been now (27 Nov.) about ten days cutting
off my greens. The bulbs I shall take up in about ten days hence.
Those that are not consumed by that time, I shall put in small
heaps in the field, and bring them away as they may be wanted.

235. The other thing stated to me by Mr. BYRD pleased me very
much indeed ; not only on account of its being a complete con
firmation of a great principle of TULI. applied to land in this
climate, but on account also of the candour of Mr. BYRD, who,
when he had seen the result, said, " I was wrong, friend Cobbett,
" in not following thy advice." And then he went on to tell me,
that the turnips in the piece which he had ploughed after the zist
of September were a crop a fourth part greater than those adjoining
them, which remained unploughed. Thus, then, let no one be
afraid of breaking the pretty leaves that look so gay ; and, how
false, then must be the notion, that to plough Indian-Corn in
dry weather, or late, is injurious ! Why should it not be as
beneficial to Corn as to Turnips and Cabbages ?

236. Mr. BYRD transplanted with his superabundant plants,
about two acres and a half. These he had not taken up on the
23rd of November. They were not so fine as the others, owing
in part, to the hearts of many having been buried, and to the whole
having been put too deep into the ground. But, the ridges of
both fields were too close together. Four feet is the distance. You
cannot plough clean and deep within a smaller space without
throwing the earth over the plants. But, as bulk of crop is the
object, it is very hard to persuade people, that two rows are not
better than one. Mr. JUDGE MITCHELL is a true disciple of the
TULLIAN SYSTEM. His rows were four feet asunder ; his ridges
high ; all according to rule. If I should be able to see his crop,
or him, before this volume goes to the press, I will give some
account of the result of his labours.

237. This year has shown me, that America is not wholly
exempt from that mortal enemy of turnips, the fly, which mawled
some of mine, and which carried off a whole piece for Mr. JUDGE
LAWRENCE at Bay-side. Mr. BYRD says, that he thinks, that to
soak the seed m fish-oil is of use as a protection. It is very easy

114

SWEDISH TURNIPS

to try it ; but, the best security is, pretty early sowing thick, and
transplanting. However, this has been a singular year : and,
even this year, the ravages of the fly have been, generally speaking,
but trifling.

238. Another enemy has, too, made his appearance : the
caterpillar : which came about the tenth of October. These eat
the leaves ; and, sometimes, they will, as in England, eat all up,
if left alone. In Mr. BYRD'S field, they were proceeding on pretty
rapidly, and, therefore, he took up his turnips earlier than he
would have done. Wide rows are a great protection against these
sinecure gentry of the fields. They attacked me on the outside of
a piece joining some buck-wheat, where they had been bred
When the buckwheat was cut, they sallied out upon the turnip
and, like the spawn of real Boroughmongers, they, after eating all
the leaves of the first row, went on to the second, and were thus
proceeding to devour the whole. I went with my plough,
ploughed a deep furrow from the rows of turnips, as far as the
caterpillars had gone. Just shook the plants and gave the top
of the ridge a bit of a sweep with a little broom. Then burried
them alive, by turning 'the furrows back. Oh ! that the people of
England could treat the Borough- villians and their swarms in the
same way ! Then might they hear without envy of the easy and
happy lives of American farmers !

239. A good sharp frost is the only complete doctor for this
complaint ; but, wide rows and ploughing will do much, where
the attack is made in line, as in my case. Sometimes, however,
the enemy starts up, here and there, all over the field ; and then
you must plough the whole field, or be content with turnips
without greens, and with a diminished crop of turnips into the
bargain. Mr. BYRD told me, that the caterpillars did not attack
the part of the field which he ploughed after tl e zist of September
with nearly so much fury as they attacked the rest of the field 1
To be sure ; for, the turnip leaves there, having received fresh
vigour from the ploughing, were of a taste more acrid : and, you
always see, that insects and reptiles, that feed on leaves and bark,
choose the most sickly or feeble plants to begin upon, because the
juices in them are sweeter. So that here is another reason, and
not a weak one, for deep and late ploughing.

240. I shall speak again of Swedish turnips when I come to
treat of hogs : but, I will here add a few remarks on the subject of
preserving the roots. In paragraph 106, I described the manner
in which I stacked my turnips last year. That did very well.
But, I will not, this year, make any hole in the ground, I will pile
up about thirty bushels upon the level ground, in a pyrarnidical
form, and then, to keep the earth from running amongst them,
put over a little straw, or leaves of trees, and about four or five
inches of earth over the whole. For, mind, the object is not to
prevent freezing. The turnips will freeze as hard as stones. But,
so that they do not see the sun, or the light, till they]. are thawed,

"5

SWEDISH TURNIPS

it is no matter. This is the case even with apples. I preserved
white turnips this way last year. Keep the light out, and all v/ill
be safe with every root that I know any thing of, except that
miserable thing, the potatoe, which, consisting of earth, of a small
portion of flour, and of water unmixed with sugar, will freeze to
perdition, if it freeze at all. Mind, it is no matter to the animals,
whether the Swedish turnip, the white turnip, or the cabbage,
be frozen, or not, at the time when they eat them. They are
just as good ; and are as greedily eaten. Otherwise, how would
our sheep in England fatten on turnips (even white turnips) in the
open fields and amidst snows and hard frosts ? But, a potatoe,
let the frost once touch it, and it is wet dirt.

241. I am of opinion, that if there were no earth put over the
turnip heaps, or stacks, it would be better ; and, it would be much
more convenient. I shall venture it for a part of my crop ; and I
would recommend others to try it. The Northern Winter is,
therefore, no objection to the raising of any of these crops ; and,
indeed, the crops are far more necessary there than to the South
ward, because the Northern Winter is so much longer than the
Southern. Let the snows (even the Nova Scotia snows) come.
There are the crops safe. Ten minutes brings in a waggon load
at any time in winter, and the rest remain safe till spring.

242. I have been asked how I would manage the Swedish
turnips, so as to keep them 'tilling or July. In April (for Long
Island) ; that is to say, when the roots begin to shoot out greens,
or, as they will be, yellows, when hidden from the light. — Let me
stop here a moment, to make a remark which this circumstance
has suggested. I have said before, that if you keep the bulbs
from the light, they will freeze and thaw without the least injury.
I was able to give no reason for this ; and who can give a reason
for leaves being yellow if they grow in the dark, and green, if they
grow in the light ? It is not the sun (except as the source of light)
that makes the green : for any plant that grows in constant shade
will be green ; while one that grows in the dark will be yellow.
When my son, JAMES, was about three years old, LORD COCHRANE,
lying against a green bank in the garden with him, had asked him
many questions about the sky, and the river, and the sun and the
moon, in order to learn what were the notions, as to those objects,
in the mind of a child. JAMES grew tired, for, as ROUSSEAU, in
his admirable exposure of the folly of teaching by question and
answer, observes, nobody likes to be questioned, and especially
children. " Well," said JAMES, " now you tell me so?nething ;

' what is it that makes the grass green." His Lordship told him
t was the sun. "Why," said JAMES, pulling up some grass,
' you see it is zvhite down here." " Aye," replied my Lord,
' but that is because the sun cannot get at it." " How get at
1 it ? " said James : " The sun makes it hot all the way down."
LORD COCHRANE came in to me, very much delighted : " Here,"
said he, " little JEMMY has started a fine subject of dispute for all

116

SWEDISH TURNIPS

" the philosophers." If this page should have the honour to meet
the eye of LORD COCHRANE, it will remind him of one of the many
happy hours that we have passed together, and I beg him to regard
any mention of the incident as a mark of that love and respect
which I bear towards him, and of the ardent desire I constantly
have to see him avenged on all vile, cowardly, perjured and in
famous persecutors.

243. When any one has told me, what it is that makes " grass
green," I shall be able to tell him what it is that makes darkness
preserve turnips ; and, in the meanwhile, I am quite content
with a perfect knowledge of the effects.

244. So far for the preservation while winter lasts : but, then,
how to manage the roots when spring comes ? Take the turnips
out of the heaps ; spread them upon the ground round about, or
any where else in the sun. Let them get perfectly dry. If they
lie a month in sun and rain alternately, it does not signify. They
will take no injury. Throw them on a barn's floor : throw them
into a shed : put them any where out of the way ; only do not
put them in thick heaps : for then they will heat, perhaps, and
grow a little. I believe they may be kept the whole year perfectly
sound and good ; but, at any rate, I kept them thus, last year,
'till July.

245. Of saving seed I have some little to say. I saved some,
in order to see whether it degenerated : but, having, before the
seed was ripe, had such complete proof of the degeneracy of
cabbage seed : having been assured by Mr. WILLIAM SMITH, of
Great Neck, that the Swedish turnip seed had degenerated with
him to a long whitish root ; and, having, besides, seen the long,
pale looking things in New York Market in June ; I took no care
of what I had growing, being sure of the real sort from England.
However, Mr. BYRD'S were from his own seedy which he has saved
for several years. They differ from mine. They are longer in
proportion to their circumference. The leaf is rather more
pointed, and the inside of the bulb is not of so deep a yellow.
Some of Mr. BYRD'S have a little hole towards the crown, and the
flesh is spotted with white where the green is cut off. He ascribes
these defects to the season ; and it ma'y be so ; but, I perceive
them in none of my turnips, which are as clear and as sound,
though not so large, as they were last year.

246. Seed is a great matter. Perhaps the best way, for farmers
in general, would be always to save some, culling the plants care
fully, as mentioned in paragraph 32. This might be sown, and
also some English seed, the expense being so very trifling com
pared with the value of the object. At any rate, by saving some
seed, a man has something to sow ; and he has it always ready.
He might change his seed once in three or four years. But,
never forgetting carefully to select the plants, from which the
seed is to be raised.

117

SWEDISH TURNIPS

POSTSCRIPT TO THE CHAPTER ON SWEDISH TURNIPS.

247. Since writing the above, I have seen Mr. JUDGE MITCHELL,
and having requested him to favour me with a written account
of his experiment, he has obligingly complied with my request
in a letter, which I here insert, together with my answer.

Ploudome, 7 Dec. 1818.
DEAR SIR,

248. About the first of June last, I received the First Part of
your Year's Residence in the United States, which I was much
pleased with, and particularly the latter part of the book, which
contains a treatise on the culture of the Ruta Baga. This mode of
culture was new to me, and I thought it almost impossible that
a thousand bushels should be raised from one acre of ground.
However, I felt very anxious to try the experiment in a small
way.

249. Accordingly, on the 6th day of June, I ploughed up a small
piece of ground, joining my salt meadow, containing sixty -five
rods, that had not been ploughed for nearly thirty years. I
ploughed the ground deep, and spread on it about ten waggon
loads of composition manure : that is to say, rich earth and yard
manure mixed in a heap, a layer of each alternately. I then
harrowed the ground with an iron-toothed harrow, until the sur
face was mellow, and the manure well mixed with the earth.

250. On the first of July I harrowed the ground over several
times, and got the surface in good order ; but, in consequence of
such late ploughing, I dared not venture to cross-plough, for fear
of tearing up the sods, which were not yet rotten. On the 7th
of July I ridged the ground, throwing four furrows together, and
leaving the tops of the ridges four feet asunder, and without
putting in any manure. I went veiy shoal with the plough,
because deep ploughing would have turned up the sods.

251 . On the eighth of July I sowed the seed, in single rows on the
tops of the ridges, on all the ridges except about eighteen. On
eight of these I sowed the seed on the iQth of July, when the first
sov/ing was up, and very severely attacked by the flea : and I was
fearful of losing the whole of the crop by that insect. About the
last of July there came a shower, which gave the turnips a start ;
and, on the eighth day of August I transplanted eight of the re
maining rows, early in the morning. The weather was now very
dry, and the turnips sown on the iQth of July were just coming
up. On the loth of August I transplanted the two other rows at
mid-day, and, in consequence of such dry weather, the tops all
died ; but, in a few days, began to look green. And, in a few
weeks, those that had been transplanted looked as thrifty as those
that had been sown.

118

SWEDISH TURNIPS

252. On the loth of August I regulated the sown rows, and left
the plants standing from six to twelve inches apart.

253. A part of the seed I received from you, and a part I had
from France a few years ago. When I gathered the crop, the
transplanted turnips were nearly as large as those that stood where
they were sown.

254. The following is the produce : Two hundred and two
bushels on sixty-five rod of ground : a crop arising from a mode of
cultivation for which, Sir, I feel very much indebted to you.
This crop, as you will perceive, wants but two bushels and a
fraction of five hundred bushels to the acre : and I verily believe,
that, on this mode of cultivation, an acre of land, which will
bring a hundred bushels of corn ears, will produce from seven to
eight hundred bushels of the Ruta Baga Turnip.

255. Great numbers of my turnips weigh six pounds each.
The greens were almost wholly destroyed by a caterpillar, which I
never before saw ; so that I had no opportunity of trying the use
cf them as cattle- food ; but, as to the root, cattle and hogs eat it
greedily, and cattle as well as hogs eat up the little bits that remain
attached to the fibres, when these are cut from the bulbs.

256. I am now selling these turnips at half a dollar a bushel.

257. With begging you to accept of my thanks for the useful
information, which, in common with many others, I have received
from your Treatise on this valuable plant,

I remain,

Dear Sir,
Your most obedient servant,

SINGLETON MITCHELL.
To Mr. William Cobbett,
Hyde Park.

258. P.S. I am very anxious to see the Second Part of your
Year's Residence. When will it be published ?

ANSWER.

Hyde Park, gth Dec. 1818.
DEAR SIR,

259. Your letter has given me very great pleasure. You have
really tried the thing : you have given it a fair trial. Mr. TULL,
when people said of his horse-hoing system, that they had tried
it, and found it not to answer, used to reply : " What have they
tried ? all lies in the little word IT."

260. You have really tried it : and very interesting your account
is. It la a complete answer to all those, who talk about loss of
ground from four-feet ridges ; and especially when we compare
your crop with that of Mr. JAMES BYRD, of Flushing ; whose
ground was prepared at an early season ; who manured richly ;

119

SWEDISH TURNIPS

who kept his land like a neat garden ; and, in short, whose field
was one of the most beautiful objects of which one can form an
idea ; but, whose ridges were about two feet and a half apart,
instead of four feet, and who had three hundred and fifty bushels
to the acre, while you, with all your disadvantages of late ploughing
and sods beneath, had at the rate of five hundred bushels.

261 . From so excellent a judge as you are, to hear commendation
of my little Treatise, must naturally be very pleasing to me, as
it is a proof that I have not enjoyed the protection of America
without doing something for it in return. Your example will be
followed by thousands ; a new and copious source of human
sustenance will be opened to a race of free and happy people ;
and to have been, though in the smallest degree, instrumental
in the creating of this source, will always be a subject of great
satisfaction, to,

Dear Sir,

Your most obedient,

And most humble servant,

WM. COBBETT.

262. P.S. I shall to-morrow send the Second Part of my
Year's Residence to the press. I dare say it will be ready in three
weeks.

263. I conclude this chapter by observing, that a borough-
monger hireling, who was actually fed with pap, purchased by
money paid to his father by the minister PITT, for writing and
publishing lies against the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Yorky
the acknowledgment of the facts relating to which transaction
/ saw in the father's own hand-writing : this hireling, when he
heard of my arrival on Long Island, called in my LEMNOS, which
allusion will, I hope, prove not to have been wholly inapt ; for,
though my life is precisely the reverse of that of the unhappy
PHILOCTETES, and though I do not hold the arrows of HERCULES,
I do possess arrows : I make them felt too at a great distance,
and, I am not certain, that my arrows are not destined to be the
only means of destroying the Trojan Boroughmongers.

264. Having introduced a Judge here by name, it may not be
amiss to say, for the information of my English readers, what sort
of persons these Long-Island Judges are. They are, some of
them, Resident Judges, and others Circuit Judges. They are all
gentlemen of known independent fortune, and of known excellent
characters and understanding. They receive a mere acknowledg
ment for their services ; and they are, in all respects, liberal
gentlemen. Those with whom I have the honour to be acquainted
have fine and most beautiful estates ; and I am very sure, that
what each actually expends in acts of hospitality and benevolence
surpasses what such a man as Burrough, or Richards, or Bailey,
or Gibbs, or, indeed, any of the set, expends upon every thing,

SWEDISH TURNIPS

except taxes. Mr. JUDGE LAURENCE, who came to invite me to
his house as soon as he heard of my landing on the Island, keeps
a house such as I never either saw or heard of before. My son
JAMES went with a message to him a little while ago, and, as he
shot his way along, he was in his shooting dress. He found a
whole house full of company, amongst whom were the celebrated
Dr. MITCHELL and Mr. CLINTON, the Governor of this state ;
but, they made him stay and dine. Here was he, a boy, with hi3
rough, shooting dress on, dining with Judges, Sheriffs, and
Generals, and with the Chief Magistrate of a Commonwealth
more extensive, more populous, and forty times as rich as Scot
land ; a Chief Magistrate of very great talents, but in whom empty
pride forms no ingredient. Big wigs and long robes and super
cilious airs, are necessary only when the object is to deceive and
overawe the people. I'll engage that to supply Judge Laurence's
house that one week required a greater sacrifice of animal life than
merciful Gibb's kitchen demands in a year : but, then, our hearty
and liberal neighbour never deals in human sacrifices.

121

CHAPTER VII.

POTATOES.

265. I HAVE made no experiments as to this root, and I am now
about to offer my opinions as to the mode of cultivating it. But,
so much has been said and written against me on account of my
scouting the idea of this root being proper as food for man, I will,
out of respect for public opinion, here state my reasons for thinking
that the Potatoe is a root, worse than useless.

266. When I published some articles upon this subject, in
England, I was attacked by the Irish writers with as much fury as
the Newfoundlanders attack people who speak against the Pope ;
and with a great deal less reason ; for, to attack a system, which
teaches people to fill their bellies with fish for the good of their
souls, might appear to be dictated by malice against the sellers of
the fish ; whereas, my attack upon Potatoes, was no attack upon
the sons of St. Patrick, to whom, on the contrary, I wished a
better sort of diet to be afforded. Nevertheless, I was told, in
the Irish papers, not that I was a fool ; that might have been
rational : but, when I was, by these zealous Hibernians, called a
liar, a slanderer, a viper, and was reminded of all my political
sins, I could not help thinking that, to use an Irish Peeress's
expression with regard to her Lord, there was a little of the
Potatoe sprouting out of their head.

267. These rude attacks upon me even were all nameless, how
ever ; and, with nameless adversaries I do not like to join battle.
Of one thing I am very glad ; and that is, that the Irish do not like
to live upon what their accomplished countryman DOCTOR
DRENNAN, calls " Ireland's lazy root." There is more sound
political philosophy in that poem than in all the enormous piles
of Plowden and Musgrave. When I called it a lazy root : when
I satyrized the use of it ; the Irish seemed to think, that their
national honour was touched. But, I am happy to find, that it is
not taste, but necessity, which makes them mess-mates with the
pig ; for when they come to this country ; they invariably prefer
to their "favourite root,'' not only fowls, geese, ducks and turkeys,
but even the flesh of oxen, pigs and sheep !

268. In 1815, 1 wrote an article, which I will here insert, because
it contains my opinions upon this subject. And when I have

POTATOES

done that, I will add some calculations as to the comparative value
of an acre of wheat and an acre of potatoes. The article was a
letter to the Editor of the Agricultural Magazine : and was in the
following words.

To THE EDITOR OF THE AGRICULTURAL MAGAZINE.
SIR,

269. IN an article of your Magazine for the month of September
last, on the subject of my Letters to Lord Sheffield, an article with
which, upon the whole, I have reason to be very proud, you
express your dissent with me upon some matters, and particularly
relative to potatoes. The passage to which I allude, is in these
words : " As to a former diatribe of his on Potatoes, we regarded
"it as a pleasant example of argument for argument's sake ;
" as an agreeable jumble of truth and of mental rambling."

270. Now, Sir, I do assure you, that I never was more serious
in my life, than when I wrote the essay, or, rather, casually made
the observations against the cultivation and use of this worse than
useless root. If it was argument for argument's sake, no one,
that I can recollect, ever did me the honour to show that the
argument was fallacious. I think it a subject of great importance; I
regard the praises of this root and the preference given to it before
corn, and even some other roots, to have arisen from a sort of
monkey-like imitation. It has become, of late years, the fashion
to extol the virtues of potatoes, as it has been to admire the writings
of Milton and Shakespear. God, almighty and all fore-seeing,
first permitting his chief angel to be disposed to rebel against him ;
his permitting him to enlist whole squadrons of angels under his
banners ; his permitting this host to come and dispute with him
the throne of heaven ; his permitting the contest to be long, and,
at one time, doubtful ; his permitting the devils to bring cannon
into this battle in the clouds ; his permitting one devil or angel, I
forget which, to be split down the middle, from crown to crotch,
as we split a pig ; his permitting the two halves, intestines and all,
to go slap, up together again, and become a perfect body ; his,
then, causing all the devil host to be tumbled head-long down into
a place called Hell, of the local situation of which no man can have
an idea : his causing gates (iron gates too) to be erected to keep
the devil in ; his permitting him to get out, nevertheless, and to
come and destroy the peace and happiness of his new creation ;
his causing his son to take a pair of compasses out of a drawer,
to trace the form of the earth : all this, and, indeed, the whole of

^Milton's poem, is such barbarous trash, so outrageously offensive to
*reasjzn and to commnji sense } that one is naturally led to wonder
how it can Tiave been tolerated by a people, amongst whom as
tronomy, navigation, and chemistry are understood. But, it

123

is the fashion to turn up the eyes, when Paradise Lost is mentioned ;
and, if you fail herein you want taste : you \vantjudgment even, if
you do not admire this absurd and ridiculous stuff, when, if one
of your relations were to write a letter in the same strain, you
would send him to a mad-house and take his estate. It is the
sacrificing of reason to fashion. And as to the other " Divine
Bafd," the case is still more provoking. After his ghosts, witches,
sorcerers, fairies, and monsters ; after his bombast and puns and
smut, which appear to have been not much relished by his com
paratively rude contemporaries, had had their full swing : after
hundreds of thousands of pounds had been expended upon embellishing
his works : after numerous commentators and engravers and
painters and booksellers had got fat upon the trade ; after jubilees
had been held in honour of his memory ; at a time when there
were men, otherwise of apparently good sense, who were what was
aptly enough termed Shakespear-mad. At this very moment an
occurrence took place, which must have put an end, for ever, to
this national folly, had it not been kept up by infatuation and
obstinacy without parallel. Young IRELAND, I think his name
was WILLIAM, no matter from what motive, though I never could see
any harm in his motive, and have always thought him a man most
unjustly and brutally used. No matter, however, what were the
inducing circumstances, or the motives, he did write, and bring
forth, as being Shakespear's, some plays, a prayer, and a love-
letter. The learned men of England, Ireland and Scotland met
to examine these performances. Some doubted, a few denied :
but, the far greater part, amongst whom were Dr. PARR, Dr.
WHARTON, and Mr. GEORGE CHALMERS, declared, in the most
positive terms, that no man but Shakespear could have written
those things. There was a division : but this division arose more
from a suspicion of some trick, than from any thing to be urged
against the merit of the writings. The plays went so far as to be
ACTED. Long lists of subscribers appeared to the work.
And, in short, it was decided, in the most unequivocal manner,
that this young man of sixteen years of age had written so nearly like
Shakespear, that a majority of the learned and critical classes of
the nation most firmly believed the writings to be Shakespear's ;
there cannot be a doubt, that if Mr. Ireland had been able to keep
his secret, they would have passed for Shakespear's 'till the time
shall come when the whole heap of trash will, by the natural
good sense of the nation, be consigned to everlasting oblivion ;
and, indeed, as folly ever doats on a darling, it is very likely, that
these last found productions of " our immortal bard " would have
been regarded as his best. Yet, in spite of all this ; in spite of
what one would have thought was sufficient to make blind people
see, the fashion has been kept up ; and, what excites something
more than ridicule and contempt, Mr. Ireland, whose writings
had been taken for Shakespear's, was, when he made the discovery,
treated as an impostor and a cheat, and hunted down with as much

124

POTATOES

rancour as if he had written against the buying and selling of seats
in Parliament. The learned men ; the sage critics : the Shake-
spear-mad folks : were all so ashamed, that they endeavoured to
draw the public attention from themselves to the young man.
It was of his impositions that they now talked, and not of their
own folly. When the witty clown, mentioned in Don Quixote,
put the nuncio's audience to shame by pulling the real pig out from
under his cloak, we do not find that that audience were, like our
learned men, so unjust as to pursue him with reproaches and with
every act that a vindictive mind can suggest. They perceived
how foolish they had been, they hung down their heads in silence,
and, I dare say, would not easily be led to admire the mounte
bank again.

h$ 271. It is fashion, Sir, to which in these most striking instances,
sense and reason have yielded ; and it is to fashion that the potatoe
owes its general cultivation and use. Ir you "ask me whether
fashion can possibly make a nation prefer one sort of diet to
another, I ask you what it is that can make a nation admire
Shakespear ? What is it that can make them call him a " Divine
Bard," nine-tenths of whose works are made up of such trash as
no decent man, now-a-days, would not be ashamed, and even
afraid, to put hla name 10"? What can make an audience in
London sit and hear, and even applaud, under the name of
Shakespear, what they would hoot off the stage in a moment,
if it came forth under any other name ? When folly has once
given the fashion she is a very persevering dame. An American
writer, whose name is GEORGE DORSEY, I believe, and who has
recently published a pamphlet, called, " The UNITED STATES AND
" ENGLAND, &c." being a reply to an attack on the morals and
government and learning of the Americans, in the " Quarterly
Review," states, as matter of justification, that the People of
America sigh with delight to see the plays of Shakespear, whom
they claim as their countryman : an honour, if it be disputed, of
which I will make any of them a voluntary surrender of my share.
Now, Sir, what can induce the American to sit and hear with
delight the dialogues of Falstaff and Poins, and Dame Quickely
and Doll Tearsheet ? What can restrain them from pelting
Parson Hugh, Justice Shallow, Bardolph, and the whole crew off
the stage ? What can make them endure a ghost cap^pie, a
prince-; who, for justice sake, pursues his uncle and his mother,
and who stabs an oIcTgentleman in sport, and cries out " dead for
a ducat ! dead ! " What can they find to " delight " them in
punning clowns, in ranting heroes, in sorcerers, ghosts, witches,
fairies, monsters, sooth-say ers, dreamers ; in incidents out of
nature, in scenes most unnecessarily bloody. How they must be
delighted at the story of Lear putting the question to his daughters
of which loved him most, and then dividing his kingdom among
them, according to their professions of love : how delighted to see
the fantastical disguise of Edgar, the treading out Gloucester's
K 125

POFAfOES

eyes, and the trick by which it is pretended he was made to believe,
that he had actually fallen from the top of the cliff ! How they
must be delighted to see the stage filled with green boughs, like a
coppice, as in Macbeth, or streaming like a slaughter-house, as
in Titus Andronicus ! How the young girls in America must be
tickled with delight at the dialogues in Troilus and Cressida, and
more especially at the pretty observations of the Nurse, I think it
is, in Romeo and Juliet ! But, it is the same all through the work.
I know of one other, and only one other, book, so obscene as this ;
and, if I were to judge from the high favour in which these two
books seem to stand, I should conclude, that wild and improbable
fiction, bad principles of morality and politicks, obscurity in
meaning, bombastical language, forced jokes, puns, and smut,
were fitted to the minds of the people. But I do not thus judge.
It is fashion. These books are in fashion. Every one is ashamed
not to be in the fashion. It is the fashion to extol potatoes, and
to eat potatoes. Every one joins in extolling potatoes, and all
the world like potatoes, or pretend to like them, which is the same
thing in effect.

272. In those memorable years of wisdom, 1800 and 1801,
you can remember, I dare say, the grave discussions in Parliament
about potatoes. It was proposed by some one to make a law to
encourage the growth of them ; and, if the Bill did not pass, it
was, I believe, owing to the ridicule which Mr. Home Tooke
threw upon that whole system of petty legislation. Will it be
believed, in another century, that the law-givers of a great nation
actually passed a law to compel people to eat pollard in their
bread, and that, too, not for the purpose of degrading or punishing,
but for the purpose of doing the said people good by adding to
the quantity of bread in a time of scarcity ? Will this be believed ?
In every bushel of wheat there is a certain proportion of flour,
suited to the appetite and the stomach of man ; and a certain
proportion of pollard and bran, suited to the appetite and stomach
•of pigs, cows, and sheep. But the parliament of the years of
wisdom wished to cram the whole down the throat of man, together
with the flour of Qther grain. And what was to become of the
pigs, cows, and sheep ? Wlience were the pork, butter, and
mutton to come ? And were not these articles of human food as
well as bread ? The truth is, that pollard, bran, and the coarser
kinds of grain, when given to cattle, make these cattle fat ; but
when eaten by man make him lean and weak. And yet this bill
actually became a law !

273. That period of wisdom was also the period of the potatoe-
mania. Bulk was the only thing sought after ; and, it is a real
fact, that Pitt did suggest the making of beer out of straw. Bulk
was all that was looked after. If the scarcity had continued a year
longer, I should not have been at all surprized, if it had been
proposed to feed the people at rack and manger. But, the
Potatoe ! Oh ! What a blessing to man ! LORD GRENVILLE,

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POTATOES

at a birthday dinner given to the foreign ambassadors, used not a
morsel of bread, but, instead of it, little potatoe cakes, though he
had, I dard say, a plenty of lamb, poultry, pig, &c. All of which
had been fatted upon corn or meal, in whole or in part. Yes,
Sir, potatoes will do very well along with plenty of animal food,
which has been fatted on something better than potatoes. But,
when you and I talk of the use of them, we must consider them in
a very different light.

.274. The notion is, that potatoes are cheaper than wheat flour ?
This word cheap is not quite expressive enough, but it will do for
our present purpose. I shall consider the cost of potatoes, in a
family, compared with that of flour. It will be best to take the
simple case of the labouring man.

275. The price of a bushel of fine flour, at Botley, is, at this time,
i os. The weight is 56 Ibs. The price of a bushel of potatoes
is 25. 6d. They are just now dug up, and are at the cheapest.
A bushel of potatoes which are measured by a large bushel,
weighs about 60 Ibs. dirt and all, for they are sold unwashed,
Allow 4 Ibs. for dirt, and the weights are equal. Well, then, here
is toiling Dick with his four bushels of potatoes, and John with
his bushel of flour. But, to be fair, I must allow, that the relative
price is not always so much in favour of flour. Yet, I think you
will agree with me, that upon an average, five bushels of potatoes
do cost as much as one bushel of flour. You know very well,
that potatoes in London, sell for id. and sometimes for zd. a
pound ; that is to say, sometimes for il. 75. 6d. and sometimes for
•2,1. 155. the five bushels. This is notorious. Every reader knows
it. And did you ever hear of a bushel of flour selling for 2/. 155.
Monstrous to think of ! And yet the tradesman's wife, looking
narrowly to every halfpenny, trudges away to the potatoe shop
to get five or six pounds of this wretched root for the purpose of
saving flour ! She goes and gives lod. for ten pounds of potatoes,
when she might buy five pounds of flour with the same money !
Before her potatoes come to the table, they are, even in bulk,
less than 5 Ibs. or even 3 Ibs. of flour made into a pudding. Try
the experiment yourself, Sir, and you will soon be able to appreciate
the economy of this dame.

276. But, to return to Dick and John ; the former has got his
five bushels of potatoes, and the latter his bushel of flour. I
shall, by and by, have to observe upon the stock that Dick must
lay in, and upon the stowage that he must have ; but, at present,
we will trace these two commodities in their way to the mouth
and in their effects upon those who eat them. Dick has got five
bushels at once, because he could have them a little cheaper.
John may have his Peck or Gallon of flour : for that has a fixed
and indiscriminating price. It requires no trick in dealing, no
judgment, as in the case of the roots, which may be wet , or hollow,
or hot : flour may be sent for by any child able to carry the
quantity wanted. However, reckoning Dick's trouble and time

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POTATOES

nothing in getting home his five bushels of potatoes, and supposing
him to have got the right sort, a " fine sort," which he can hardly
fail of, indeed, since the whole nation is now full of " fine sort,"
let us now see how he goes to work to consume them. He has a
piece of bacon upon the rack, but he must have some potatoes
too. On goes the pot, but there it may as well hang, for we shall
find it in continual requisition. For this time the meat and
roots: boil together. - But, what is Dick to have for supper?
Bread ? No. He shall not have bread, unless he will have
bread for dinner. Put on the Pot again for supper. Up an hour
before day light and on with the pot. Fill your luncheon-bag,
Dick : nothing is so relishing and so strengthening out in the
harvest-field, or ploughing on a bleak hill in winter, as a cold
potatoe. But, be sure, Dick, to wrap your bag well up in your
clothes, during winter, or, when you come to lunch, you may,
to your great surprise, find your food transformed into pebbles.
Home goes merry Dick, and on goes the pot again. Thus 1095
times in the year Dick's pot must boil. This is, at least, a thousand
.times oftener than with a bread and meat diet. Once a week
jbaking and once a week boiling, is as much as a farm house used
|to require. There must be some fuel consumed in winter for
'warmth. But here are, at the least, 500 fires to be made for the
sake of these potatoes, and, at a penny a fire, the amount is more
than would purchase four bushels of flour, wrhich would make
288 Ibs. of bread, which at 7 Ibs. of bread a day, would keep
John's family in bread for 41 days out of the 365. This I state
as a fact challenging contradiction, that, exclusive of the extra
labour, occasioned by the cookery of potatoes, the fuel required
in a year, for a bread diet, would cost, in any part of the kingdom
more than would keep a family, even in baker's bread for 41 days
in the year, at the rate of 71 Ibs. of bread a day.

277. John, on the contrary, lies and sleeps on Sunday morning
'till about 7 o'clock. He then gets a bit of bread and meat, or
cheese, if he has either. The mill gives him his bushel of flour
in a few minutes. His wife has baked during the week. He
has a pudding on Sunday, and another batch of bread, before the
next Sunday. The moment he is up, he is off to his stable, or
the field, or the coppice. His breakfast and luncheon are in his
bag. In spite of frost he finds them safe and sound. They give
him heart, and enable him to go through the day. His 56 Ibs.
of flour, with the aid of 2d. in yeast, bring him 72 Ibs. of bread ;
while, after the dirt and peelings and waste are deducted, it is a
very doubtful whether Dick's 300 Ibs. of potatoes bring 200 Ibs.
of even this watery diet to his lips. It is notorious, that in a
pound of clean potatoes there are n ounces of water, half an
ounce of earthy matter, an ounce of fibrous and strawey stuff,
and I know not what besides. The water can do Dick no good,
but he must swallow these 1 1 ounces of water in every pound of
potatoes. How far earth and straw may tend to fatten or

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POTATOES

strengthen cunning Dick, I do not know ; but, at any rate, it is
certain, that, while he is eating as much of potatoe as is equal in
nutriment to i Ib. of bread, he must swallow about 14 oz. of water,
earth, straw, &c. for, down they must go altogether, like the
Parliament's bread in the years of wisdom, 1800 and 1801. But,
suppose every pound of potatoes to bring into Dick's stomach
a 6th part in nutritious matter, including in the gross pound all
the dirt, eyes, peeling, and other inevitable waste. Divide his
gross 300 Ibs. by 6, and you will find him 50 Ibs. of nutritious
matter for the same sum that John has laid out in 72 Ibs. of
nutritious matter, besides the price of 288 Ibs. of bread in a year,
which Dick lays out in extra fuel for the eternal boilings of his
pot. Is it any wonder that his cheeks are like two bits of loose
leather, while he is pot-bellied, and weak as a cat ? In order to
get half a pound of nutritious matter into him, he must swallow
about 50 ounces of water, earth, and straw. Without ruminating
faculties how is he to bear this cramming ?

278. But, Dick's disadvantages do not stop here. He must
lay in his store at the beginning of winter, or he must buy* through
the nose. And, where is he to find stowage ? He has no caves.
He may pie them in the garden, if he has one ; but, he must not
open the pie in frosty weather. It is a fact not to be disputed,
that a full tenth of the potatoe crop is destroyed, upon an average
of years, by the frost. His wife, or stout daughter, cannot go out
to work to help to earn the means of buying potatoes. She must
stay at home to boil the pot, the everlasting pot ! There is no such
thing as a cold dinner. No such thing as women sitting down on
a hay-cock, or a shock of wheat, to their dinner, ready to jump
up at the approach of the shower. Home they must tramp, if
it be three miles, to the fire that ceaseth not, and the pot as black
as Satan. No wonder, that in the brightest and busiest seasons
of the year, you see from every cottage door, staring out at you,
as you pass, a smoky-capped, greasy-heeled woman. The pot,
which keeps her at home, also gives her the colour of the chimney,
while long inactivity swells her heels.

279. Now, Sir, I am quite serious in these my reasons against
the use of this root, as food for man. As food for other animals,
in proportion to its cost, I know it to be the worst of all roots that
I know any thing of ; but, that is another question. I have here
been speaking of it as food for man ; and, if it be more expensive
than flour to the labourer in the country, who, at any rate, can
stow it in pies, what must it be to tradesman's and artizan's
families in towns, who can lay in no store, and who must buy
by the ten pound or quarter of a hundred at a time ? When
broad-faced Mrs. Wilkins tells Mrs. Tomkins, that, so that she
has " a potatoe " for her dinner, she does not care a farthing for
bread, I only laugh, knowing that she will twist down a half pound
of beef with her " potatoe," and has twisted down half a pound
of buttered toast in the morning, and means to do the same at

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POTATOES

tea time without prejudice to her supper and grog. But when
Mrs. Tomkins gravely answers, " yes, Ma'am, there is nothing
" like a potatoe ; it is such a saving in a family," I really should
not be very much out of humour to see the tete-a-tete broken up
by the application of a broom-stick.

280. However, Sir, I am talking to you now, and, as I am not
aware that there can be any impropriety in it, I now call upon you
to show, that I am really wrong in my notions upon this subject
and this, I think you are, in some sort bound to do, seeing that you
have, in a public manner, condemned them.

281. But, there remains a very important part of the subject
yet undiscussed. For, though you should be satisfied, that 300
Ibs. of potatoes are not, taking every thing into consideration,
more than equal to about 30 Ibs. of flour, you may be of opinion,
that the disproportion in the bulk of the crops is, in favour of
potatoes, more than sufficient to compensate for this. I think
this is already clearly enough settled by the relative prices of the
contending commodities ; for, if the quantity of produce was on
the side of potatoes, their price would be in proportion.

282. I have heard of enormous crops of potatoes ; as high, I
believe, as 10 tons grow upon an acre. I have heard of 14 sacks
of wheat upon an acre. I never saw above 10 grow upon an acre.
The average crop of wheat is about 24 bushels, in this part of
England, and the average crop of potatoes about 6 tons. The
weight of the wheat 1,440 Ibs. and that of the potatoes 13,440
Ibs. Now, then, if I am right in what has been said above, this
bulk of potatoes barely keeps place with that of the wheat ; for,
if a bushel of wheat does not make 56 Ibs. of flour, it weighs 60
Ibs. and leaves pollard and bran to make up the deficiency. Then,
as to the cost ; the ground must be equally good. The seed is
equally expensive. But the potatoes must be cultivated during
their growth. The expense of digging and cartage and stowage
is not less than 2.1. an acre at present prices. The expense of
reaping, housing, and threshing is, at present prices, los. less.
The potatoes leave no straw, the wheat leaves straw, stubble, and
gleanings for pigs. The straw is worth, at least 3/. an acre, at
present prices. It is, besides, absolutely necessary. It litters, in
conjunction with other straw, all sorts of cattle ; it sometimes
helps to feed them ; it covers half the buildings in the kingdom ;
and makes no small part of the people's beds. The potatoe is ^
a robber in all manner of ways. It largely takes from the farm
yard, and returns little or nothing to it ; it robs the land more
than any other plant or root, it robs the eaters of their time, their
fuel, and their health ; and, I agree fully with MONSIEUR TISSOT,
that it robs them of their mental powers .

283. I do not deny, that it is a pleasant enough thing to assist
in sending down lusty Mrs. Wilkins's good half-pound of fat
roast-beef. Two or three ounces of water, earth, and straw,
can do her no harm ; but, when I see a poor, little, pale-faced,

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POTATOES

life-less, pot-bellied boy peeping out at a cottage door, where I
ought to meet with health and vigour, I cannot help cursing the
fashion, which has given such general use to this root, as food for
man. However, I must say, that the chief ground of my antipathy
to this root is, that it tends to debase the common people, as every
thing does, which brings their mode of living to be nearer that of
cattle. The man and his pig, in the potatoe system, live pretty
much upon the same diet, and eat nearly in the same manner, and
out of nearly the same utensil. The same eternally-boiling pot
cooks their common mess. Man, being master, sits at the first
table ; but, if his fellow-feeder comes after him, he will not fatten,
though he will live upon the same diet. Mr. CURWEN found
potatoes to supply the place of hay, being first well cooked : but,
they did not supply the place of oats ; and yet fashion has made
people believe, that they are capable of supplying the place of
bread ! It is notorious, that nothing will fatten on potatoes alone
Carrots, parsnips, cabbages, will, in time, fatten sheep and oxen,
and, some of them, pigs ; but, upon potatoes alone, no animal that
I ever heard of will fatten. And yet, the greater part, and,
indeed, all the other roots and plants here mentioned, will yield,
upon ground of the same quality, three or four times as heavy a
crop as potatoes, and will, too, for a long while, set the frosts at
defiance.

284. If, Sir, you do me the honour to read this latter, I shall
have taken up a good deal of your time ; but the subject is one of
much importance in rural economy, and therefore, cannot be
wholly uninteresting to you. I will not assume the sham modesty
to suppose, that my manner of treating it makes me unworthy
of an answer ; and, I must confess, that I shall be disappointed
unless you make a serious attempt to proqe to me, that I am in
error. ~"

I am, Sir,
Your most obedient,

And most humble Servant,

WM. COBBETT.

285. Now, observe, I never received any answer to this. Much
abuse. New torrents of abuse : and, in language still more
venomous than the former ; for now the Milton and Shakespear
men, the critical Parsons, took up the pen ; and, when you have
an angry Priest for adversary, it is not the common viper, but the
rattle-snake that you have to guard against. However, as no
one put his name to what he wrote, my remarks went on producing
their effect ; and a very considerable effect they had.

286. About the same time Mr. TIMOTHY BROWN of Peckham
Lodge, who is one of the most understanding and most worthy
men I ever had the honour to be acquainted with, furnished me

POTATOES

with the following comparative estimate relative to wheat and
potatoes.

PRODUCE OF AN ACRE OF WHEAT.

287. Forty bushels is a good crop ; but from fifty to sixty may
be grown.

Pounds of Wheat.
40 bushels 60 pounds a bushel . . . 2,400

4Si pounds of flour to each bushel of wheat 1,820
13 pounds of offal to each bushel . .520

Waste . . ., . .60

2,400

The worth of offal is about that of one bushel
of flour ; and the worth of straw, 2 tons,
each worth 2/. is equal to six bushels of
flour ..... 318!

Pounds of Flour.
So that the total yield in flour is . . .2,139

Pounds of Bread.

Which will make of bread at the rate of 9

pounds of bread from 7 pounds of flour . 2,739^

PRODUCE OF AN ACRE OF POTATOES.

288. Seven tons, or 350 bushels, is a good crop ; but ten tons,
or 500 bushels may be grown.

Pounds of Po ta toes .
Ten tons, or ..... 22,400

Pounds of Flour .
Ten pounds of Potatoes contain one pound of flour 2,240

Pounds of Bread.
Which would, if it were possible to extract the flour and

get it in a dry state, make of bread . . 2,880

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POTATOES

289. Thus, then, the nutritious contents of the Potatoes surpasses
that of the wheat but by a few pounds ; but to get at those con
tents, unaccompanied with nine times their weight in earth, straw,
and water, is impossible. Nine pounds of earth, straw and water
must, then, be swallowed, in order to get at the one pound of
flour !

290. I beg to be understood as saying nothing against the
cultivation of potatoes in any place, or near any place where there
are people willing to consume them at half a dollar a bushel,
when wheat is two dollars a bushel. If any one will buy dirt to
eat, and if one can get dirt to him with more profit than one can
get wheat to him, let us supply him with dirt by all means. It
is his taste to eat dirt ; and, if his taste have nothing immoral in
it, let him, in the name of all that is ridiculous, follow his taste.
I know a prime Minister, who picks his nose and regales himself
with the contents. I solemnly declare this to be true. I have
witnessed the worse than beastly act scores of times ; and yet
I do not know, that he is much more of a beast than the greater
part of his associates. Yet, if this were all : if he were chargeable
with nothing but this ; if he would confine his swallow to this, I
do not know that the nation would have any right to interfere
between his nostrils and his gullet.

291. Nor do I say, that it is filthy to eat potatoes. I do not
ridicule the using of them as sauce. What I laugh at is, the idea
of the use of them being a saving : of their going further than
bread ; of the cultivation of them in lieu of wheat adding to the
human sustenance of a country. This is what I laugh at ; and
laugh I must as long as I have the above estimate before me.

292. As food for cattle, sheep or hogs, this is the worst of all the
green and root crops ; but, of this I have said enough before ;
and therefore, / now dismiss the Potatoe with the hope, that I
shall never again have to write the word, or to see the thing.

133

CHAPTER VIII.

COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, AND POULTRY.

293. Cows. — With respect to cows, need we any other facts
than those of Mr. BYRD to prove how advantageous the SweSish,
turnip culture must be to those who keep cows in order to make
butter and cheese. The greens come to supply the place of grass,
and to add a month to the feeding on green food. They come
just at the time when cows, in this country, are let go dry. It is
too hard work to squeeze butter out of straw and corn stalks ;
and, if you could get it out, it would not, pound for pound, be
nearly so good as lard, though it would be full as white. To give
cows fine hay no man thinks of ; and, therefore, dry they must be
from November until March, though a good piece of cabbages
added to the turnip greens would keep them on in milk to theit
calving time ; or, 'till within a month of it at any rate. The bulbs
of Swedish turnips are too valuable to give to cows ; but the
cabbages, which are so easily raised, may be made subservient
to their use.

294. Sheep. — In the First Part I have said how I fed my sheep
upon Swedish turnips. I have now only to add, that, in the case
of early lambs for market, cabbages, and especially savoys, in
February and March, would be excellent for the ewes. Sheep
love green. In a turnip field, they never touch the bulb, till every
bit of green is eaten. I would, therefore, for this purpose, have
some cabbages, and, if possible, of the savoy kind.

295. Hogs. — This is the main object, when we talk of raising
green and root crops, no matter how near to or how far from the
spot where the produce of the farm is to be consumed. For,
pound for pound, the hog is the most valuable animal ; and,
whether fresh or salted, is the most easily conveyed. Swedish
turnips or cabbages or Mangel Wurzel will fatten an ox : but,
that which would, in four or five months fatten the ox, would keep
fifteen August Pigs from the grass going to the grass coming,
on Long Island. Look at their worth in June, and compare it
with the few dollars that you have got by fatting the ox ; and look
also at the manure in the two cases. A farmer, on this Island
fatted two oxen last winter upon corn. He told me, after he had
sold them, that, if he had given the oxen away, and sold the corn,

'34

COWS, SHEEP,

he should have had more money in his pocket. But, if he had
kept, through the winter, four or five summer pigs upon this corn,
would they have eaten all his corn to no purpose ? I am aware,
that pigs get something at an ox-stable door ; but, what a process
is this !

296. My hogs are now living wholly upon Swedish turnip greens,
and, though I have taken no particular pains about the matter,
they look very well, and, for store hogs and sows, are as fat as I
wish them to be. My English hogs are sleek, and fit for fresh
pork : and all the hogs not only eat the greens but do well upon
them. But, observe, I give them plenty three times a day. In
the forenoon we get a good waggon load, and that is for three
meals. This is a main thing, this plenty : and, the farmer must
see to it writh his OWN EYES ; for, workmen are all starvers,
except of themselves. I never had a man in my life, who would
not starve a hog, if I would let him ; that is to say, if the food was

be got by some labour. You must, therefore, see to this :
or, you do not try the thing at all.

297. Turnip greens are, however, by no means equal to
cabbages, or even to cabbage leaves. The cabbage, and even the
leaf, is the fruit of the plant ; which is not the case with the Turnip
green. Therefore the latter must, especially when they follow
summer cabbages, be given in greater proportionate quantities.

298. As to the bulb of the Swedish turnip, I have said enough,
in the First Part, as food for hogs ; and I should not have men
tioned the matter again, had I not been visited by two gentlemen,
who came on purpose (from a great distance) to see, whether hogs
really would eat Swedish turnips ! Let not the English farmers
laugh at this ; let them not imagine, that the American farmers
are a set of simpletons on this account : for, only about thirty
years ago, the English farmers would not, indeed, have gone a
great distance to ascertain the fact, but would have said at once,
that the thing was false. It is not more than about four hundred
years since the Londoners were wholly supplied with cabbages,
spinage, turnips, carrots, and all sorts of garden stuff from Flanders.
And now, I suppose, that one single parish in Kent grows more
garden stuff than all Flanders. The first settlers came to
America long and long before even the white turnip made its
appearance in the fields in England. The successors of the first
settlers trod in the foot-steps of their fathers. The communica
tion with England did not bring out good English farmers. Books
made little impression unaccompanied with actual experiments
on the spot. It was reserved for the Boroughmongers, armed
with gags, halters, and axes, to drive from England experience
and public spirit sufficient to introduce the culture of the green
and root crops to the fields of America.

299. The first gentleman, who came to see whether hogs would
eat Swedish turnips saw some turnips tossed down on the grass

o the hogs, which were eating sv/eet little loaved cabbages.

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COWS, SHEEP, ETC.

However, they eat the turnips too before they left off. The second
who came on the afternoon of the same day, saw the hogs eat some
bulbs chopped up. The hogs were pretty hungry, and the
quantity of turnips small, and there was such a shoving and
pushing about amongst the hogs to' snap up the bits, that the
gentleman observed, that they " liked them as well as corn."

300. In paragraph 134 I related a fact of a neighbour of mine in
Hampshire having given his Swedish turnips, after they had borne
seed, to some lean pigs, and had, with that food, made them fit
for fresh pork, and sold them as such. A gentleman from South
Carolina wras here in July last, and I brought some of mine which
had then borne seed. They were perfectly sound. The hogs ate
them as well as if they had not borne seed. We boiled some in
the kitchen for dinner ; and they appeared as good as those eaten
in the winter. This shews clearly how well this root keeps.

301. Now, these facts being, I hope, undoubted, is it not sur
prising, that, in many parts of this fine country, it is the rule to
keep only one pig for every cow ! The cow seems as necessary
to the pig as the pig's mouth is necessary to his carcass. There
are, for instance, six cows ; therefore, when they begin to giva
milk in the spring, six pigs are set on upon the milk, which is
given them with a suitable proportion of pot liquor (a meat pot)
and of rye, or Indian, meal, making a diet far superior to that of
the families of labouring men in England. Thus the pigs go on
'till the time when the cows (for want of moist food) become dry.
Then the pigs are shut up, and have the new sweet Indian corn
heaped into their stye till they are quite fat, being half fat, mind,
all the summer long, as they run barking and capering about.
Sometimes they turn sulky, however, and will not eat enough of
the corn ; and well they may, seeing that they are deprived of
their milk. Take a child from its pap all at once, and you will find,
that it will not, for a long while, relish its new diet. What a
system ! but if it must be persevered in, there might, it appears
to me, be a great improvement made even in it ; for, the labour
of milking and of the subsequent operations, all being performed
by women, is of great inconvenience. Better let each pig suck
its adopted mother at once, which would save a monstrous deal
of labour, and prevent all possibility of waste. There would ba
no slopping about ; and, which is a prime consideration in a dairy
system, there would be clean milking : for, it has been proved by
DOCTOR ANDERSON, that the last drop is fourteen times as good as
the first drop ; and, I will engage, that the grunting child of the
lowing mother would have that last drop twenty times a day, or
would pull the udder from her body. I can imagine but one
difficulty that can present itself to the mind of any one disposed
to adopt this improvement ; and that is, the teaching of the pig
to suck the cow. This will appear a difficulty to those only who
think unjustly of the understandings of pigs : and, for their
encouragement, I beg leave to refer them to DANIEL'S RURAL

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COWS, SHEEP, ETC.

SPORTS, where they will find, that, in Hampshire, Sir John
Mildmay's gamekeeper, Toomer, taught a sow to point at
partridges and other game ; to quarter her ground like a pointer,
to back the pointers, when she hunted with them, and to be, in
all respects, the most docile pointer of the finest nose. This
fact is true beyond all doubt. It is known to many men now
alive. Judge, then, how easily a pig might be taught to milk a
cow, and what a " saving of labour " this would produce 1

302. It is strange what comfort men derive even from the
deceptions which they practice upon themselves. The milk
and fat pot-liquor and meal are, when put together, called, in
Long Island, swill. The word comes from the farm-houses in
England, but it has a new meaning attached to it. There it means
the mere wash : the mere drink given to store hogs. But, here
it means rich fatting food. " There, friend Cobbett," said a
gentleman to me, as we looked at his pigs, in September last,
" do thy English pigs look better than these ? " " No," said
I, " but what do these live on ? " He said he had given them all
summer, " nothing but swill." " Aye," said I, " but what is
" swill ? " It was, for six pigs, nothing at all, except the milk of
six very fine cows, with a bin of shorts and meal always in requisition,
and with the daily supply of liquor from a pot and a spit, that boils
and turns without counting the cost.

303. This is very well for those who do not care a straw, whether
their pork cost them seven cents a pound or half a dollar a pound ;
and, I like to see even the waste : because it is a proof of the easy
and happy life of the farmer. But, when we are talking of
profitable agriculture, we must examine this swill tub, and see
what it contains. To keep pigs to a profit, you must carry them
on to their fatting time at little expence. Milk comes from all the
grass you grow and almost the whole of the dry fodder. Five
or six cows will sweep a pretty good farm as clean as the turnpike
road. Pigs, till well weaned must be kept upon good food. My
pigs will always be fit to go out of the weaning stye at three months
old. The common pigs require four months. Then out they go
never to be fed again, except on grass, greens, or roots, till they
arrive at the age to be fattened. If they will not keep themselves
in growing order upon this food, it is better to shoot them at once.
But, I never yet saw a hog that would not. The difference
between the good sort and the bad sort, is, that the former will
always be fat enough for fresh pork, and the latter will not ; and
that, in the fatting, the former will not require (weight for weight
of animal) more than half the food that the latter will to make them
equally fat.

304. Out of the milk and meal system another monstrous evil
arises. It is seldom that the hogs come to a proper age before they
are killed. A hog has not got his growth till he is full two years
old. But, who will, or can, have the patience to see a hog eating
Long-Island swill for two years ? When a hog is only 15 or 16

137

COWS, SHEEP,

months old, he will lay on two pounds of fat for every one pound
that will, out of the same quantity of food, be laid on by an eight
or ten months' pig. Is it not thus with every animal ? A stout
boy will be like a herring upon the very food that would make
his father fat, or kill him. However, this fact is too notorious
to be insisted on.

305. Then, the young meat is not so nutritious as the old.
Steer-beef is not nearly so good as ox-beef. Young wethef
mutton bears the same proportion of inferiority to old wether
mutton. And, what reason is there, that the principle should
not hold good as to hog-meat ? In Westphalia, where the fine
hams are made, the hogs are never killed under three years old.
In France, where I saw the fattest pork I ever saw, they keep
their fatting hogs to the same age. In France and Germany, the
people do not eat the hog, as hog ; they use the hog to put fat
into other sorts of meat. They make holes in beef, mutton, veal,
turkeys and fowls, and, with a tin tube, draw in bits of fat hog,
which they call lard, and, as it is all fat, hence comes it that we
call the inside fat of a hog, lard. Their beef and mutton and
veal would be very poor stuff without the aid of the hog ; but,
with that aid, they make them all exceedingly good. Hence it
is, that they are induced to keep their hogs till they have quite
done growing : and, though their sort of hogs is the very worst
I ever saw, their hog meat was the very fattest. The common
weight in Normandy and Brittany is from six to eight hundred
pounds. But, the poor fellows there do not slaughter away as the
farmers do here, ten or a dozen hogs at a time, so that the sight
makes one wonder whence are to come the mouths to eat the meat.
In France du lard is a thing to smell to, not to eat. I like the eating
far better than the smelling system ; but when we are talking
about farming for gain, we ought to inquire how any given weight
of meat can be obtained at the cheapest rate. A hog in his third
year, would, on the American plan, suck half a dairy of cows
perhaps ; but, then, mind, he would, upon a third part of the
fatting food, weigh down four Long Island " shuts" the average
weight of which is about one hundred and fifty pounds.

306. A hog, upon rich food, will be much bigger at the end of a
year, than a hog upon good growing diet : but, he will not be bigger
at the end of two years, and especially at the end of three years.
His size is not to be forced on, any more than that of a child,
beyond a certain point.

307. For these reasons, if I were settled as a farmer, I would let
my hogs have time to come to their size. Some sorts come to it
at an earlier period, and this is amongst the good qualities of my
English hogs ; but, to do the thing well, even they ought to have
two years to grow in.

308. The reader will think that I shall never cease talking about
hogs : but, I have now done, only I will add, that, in keeping hoga
in a growing state, we must never forget their lodging ! A few

COWS, SHEEP,

boards, flung carelessly over a couple of rails, and no litter beneath,
is not the sort of bed for a hog. A place of suitable size, large
rather than small, well sheltered on every side, covered with a
roof that lets in no wet or snow. No opening, except a door
way big enough for a hog to go in ; and the floor constantly well
bedded with leaves of trees, dry, or, which is the best thing, and
what a hog deserves, plenty of clean straw. When I make up my
hogs' lodging place for winter, I look well at it, and consider,
whether, upon a pinch, I could, for once and away, make shift to
lodge in it myself. If I shiver at the thought, the place is not good
enough for my hogs. It is not in the nature of a hog to sleep in
the cold. Look at them. You will see them, if they have the
means, cover themselves over for the night. This is what is done
by neither horse, cow, sheep, dog nor cat. And this should
admonish us to provide hogs with warm and comfortable lodging.
Their sagacity in providing against cold in the night, when they
have it in their power to make such provision, is quite wonderful.
You see them looking about for the warmest spot : then they
go to work, raking up the litter so as to break the wind off ; and
v/hen they have done their best, they lie down. I had a sow that
had some pigs running about with her in April last. There was
a place open to her on each side of the barn. One faced the east
and the other the west ; and, I observed, that she sometimes took
to one side and sometimes to the other. One evening her pigs
had gone to bed 011 the east side. She was out eating till it began
to grow dusk. I saw her go into her pigs, and was surprised to
see her come out again ; and therefore, looked a little to see what
she was after. There was a high heap of dung in the front of
the barn to the south. She walked up to the top of it, raised her
nose, turned it very slowly, two or three times, from the north
east to the north-west, and back again, and at last, it settled at
about south-east, for a little bit. She then came back, marched
away very hastily to her pigs, roused them up in a great bustle,
and away she trampled with them at her heels to the place on the
west side of the barn. There was so little wind, that I could not
tell which way it blew, till I took up some leaves, and tossed them
in the air. I then found, that it came from the precise point
which her nose had settled at. And thus was I convinced, that
she had come out to ascertain which way the wind came, and,
finding it likely to make her young ones cold in the night, she had
gone and called them up, though it was nearly dark, and taken
them off to a more comfortable berth. Was this an instinctive,
or was it a reasoning proceeding ? At any rate, let us not treat
such animals as if they were stocks and stones.

309. Poultry. — I merely mean to observe, as to poultry,
that they must be kept away from turnips and cabbages, especially
in the early part of the growth of these plants. When turnips
a re an inch or two high a good large flock of turkeys will destroy
an acre in half a day, in four feet rows. Ducks and geese will do

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COWS, SHEEP, ETC.

the same. Fowls will do great mischief. If these things cannot
be kept out of the field, the crop must be abandoned, or the
poultry killed. It is true, indeed, that it is only near the house
that poultry plague you much : but, it is equally true, that the
best and richest land is precisely that which is near the house,
and this, on every account, whether of produce or application,
is the very land where you ought to have these crops.

140

CHAPTER IX.

PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, FOOD AND RAIMENT.

310. Land is of various prices, of course. But, as I am, in this
Chapter, addressing myself to English Farmers, I am not speaking
of the price either of land in the wildernesses, or of land in the
immediate vicinage of great cities. The wilderness price is two
or three dollars an acre : the city price four or five hundred. The
land at the same distance from New York that Chelsea is from
London, is of higher price than the land at Chelsea The
surprizing growth of these cities, and the brilliant prospect before*
them, give value to every thing that is situated in or near them.

31 1 . It is my intention, however, to speak only of farming land
1 his, too, is, of course, affected in its value by the circumstance
of distance from market ; but, the reader will make his own
calculations as to this matter. A farm, then, on this Island, anv-
\vhere not nearer than thirty miles of, and not more distant than
sixty miles from, New York, with a good farm-house, barn,
stables sheds, and styes ; the land fenced into fields with posts
and rails the wood-land being in the proportion of one to ten of
the arable land, and there being on the farm a pretty good orchard •
such a farm, if the land be in a good state, and of an average
quality, 13 worth sixty dollars an acre, or thirteen pounds sterling •
ot course, a farm of a hundred acres would cost one thousand
three hundred pounds. The rich lands on the necks and bays
where there are meadows and surprizingly productive orchards,
and where there is water carriage, are worth, in some cases three
times this price. But, what I have said will be sufficient to enable
the reader to form a pretty correct judgment on the subject In
JNew Jersey, in Pennsylvania, every where the price differs with
tne circumstances of water carriage, quality of land, and distance
from market.

312. When I say a good farm-house, I mean a house a great
deal better than the general run of farm-houses in England. More
neatly finished on the inside. More in a parlour sort of style-
though round about the house, things do not look so neat and tight
as m England. Even in Pennsylvania, and amongst the Quakers
too, there is a sort of out-of-doors slovenliness, which is never
hardly seen m England. You see bits of wood, timber, boards

PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR,

lying about, here and there, and pigs and cattle trampling about
in a sort of confusion, which would make an English farmer fret
himself to death ; but which is here seen with great placidness.
The out-buildings, except the barns, and except in the finest
counties of Pennsylvania, are not so numerous, or so capacious,
as in England, in proportion to the size of the farms. The reason
is, that the weather is so dry. Cattle need not covering a twentieth
part so much as in England, except hogs, who must be warm as
well as dry. However, these share with the rest, and very little
covering they get.

313. Labour is the great article of expence upon a farm ; yet
it is not nearly so great as in England, in proportion to the amount
of the produce of a farm, especially if the poor-rates be, in both
cases, included. However, speaking of the positive wages, a
good farm-labourer has twenty -five pounds sterling a year and his
board and lodging ; and a good day-labourer has, upon an average,
a dollar a day. A woman servant, in a farm-house, has from forty
to fifty dollars a year, or eleven pounds sterling. These are the
average of the wages throughout the country. But, then, mind,
the farmer has nothing (for, really, it is not worth mentioning)
to pay in poor-rates : which in England, must always be added to
the wages that a farmer pays ; and, sometimes, they far exceed
the wages.

314. It is, too, of importance to know, zuhat sort of labourers
these Americans are ; for, though a labourer is a labourer, still
there is some difference in them ; and, these Americans are the
best that I ever saw. They mow/owr acres of oats, wheat, rye, or
barley in a day, and, with a cradle, lay it so smooth in the swarths,
that it is tied up in sheaves with the greatest neatness and ease.
They mow two acres and a half of grass in a day, and they do the
work well. And the crops, upon an average, are all, except the
wheat, as heavy as in England. The English farmer will want
nothing more than these facts to convince him, that the labour,
after all, is not so very dear.

315. The causes of these performances, so far beyond those'in
England, is first, the men are tall and well built ; they are bony
rather than fleshy : and they live, as to food, as well as man can
live. And, secondly, they have been educated to do much in a
day. The farmer here generally is at the head of his " boys,"
as they, in the kind language of the country, are called. Here
is the best of examples. My old and beloved friend, Mr. JAMES
PAUL, used, at the age of nearly sixty to go at the head of his mowers,
though his fine farm was his own, and though he might, in other
respects, be called a rich man ; and, I have heard, that Mr. ELIAS
HICKS, the famous Quaker Preacher, who lives about nine miles
from this spot, has this year, at seventy years of age, cradled down
four acres of rye in a day. I wish some of the preachers of other
descriptions, especially our fat parsons in England, would think
.a little of this, and would betake themselves to " work with their

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FOOD AND RAIMENT

*' hands the things which be good, that they may have to give to
" him who needeth," and not go on any longer gormandizing and
swilling upon the labour of those who need.

316. Besides the great quantity of work performed by the
American labourer, his skill, the versatility of his talent, is a great
thing. Every man can use an ax, a saw, and a hammer. Scarcely
one who cannot do any job at rough carpentering, and mend a
plough or a waggon. Very few indeed, who cannot kill and dress
pigs and sheep, and many of them Oxen and Calves. Every
farmer is a neat butcher ; a butcher for market : and, of course,
" the boys " must learn. This is a great convenience. It makes
you so independent as to a main part of the means of housekeeping.
All are ploughmen. In short, a good labourer here, can do any
thing that is to be done upon a farm.

317. The operations necessary in miniature cultivation they are
\rery awkward at. The gardens are ploughed in general. An
American labourer uses a spade in a very awkward manner. They
poke the earth about as if they had no eyes ; and toil and muck
Themselves half to death to dig as much ground in a day as a
Surrey man would dig in about an hour of hard work. Banking,
hedging, they know nothing about. They have no idea of the' use
of a bill-hook, which is so adroitly used in the coppices of Hamp
shire and Sussex. An ax is their tool, and with that tool, at
cutting dovjn trees or cutting them up, they will do ten times as much
in a day as any other men that I ever saw. Set one of these men
on upon a wood of timber trees, and his slaughter will astonish
you. A neighbour of mine tells a story of an Irishman, who
promised he could do any thing, and whom, therefore, to begin
with, the employer sent into the wood to cut down a load of wood
to burn. He staid a long while away with the team, and the
farmer went to him fearing some accident had happened. " What
are you about all this time ? " said the farmer. The man was
hacking away at a hickory tree, but had not got it half down ;
and that was all he had done. An American, black or white,
would have had half a dozen trees cut down, cut up into lengths,
put upon the carriage, and brought home, in the time.

318. So that our men, who come from England, must not
expect, that, in these common labours of the country, they are to
surpass, or even equal these " Yankees," who, of all men that I
ever saw, are the most active and the most hardy. They skip
over a fence like a greyhound. They will catch you a pig in an
open field by racing him down ; and they are afraid of nothing.
This was the sort of stuff that filled the frigates of DECATUR,
HULL, and BRAINBRIDGE. No wonder that they triumphed when
opposed to poor pressed creatures, worn out by length of service
and ill-usage, and encouraged by no hope of fair-play. My LORD
COCHRANE said, in his place in" parliament, that it would be so ;
and so it was. Poor CASHMAN, that brave Irishman, with his
dying breath, accused the government and the merchants of

PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR,

England of withholding from him his pittance of prize money !
Ought not such a vile, robbing, murderous system to be
destroyed ?

319. Of the same active, hardy, and brave stuff, too, was com
posed the army of JACKSON, who drove the invaders into the
Gulph of Mexico, and who would have driven into the same
Gulph the army of Waterloo, and the heroic gentleman, too,
who lent his hand to the murder of Marshal Ney. This is the
stuff that stands between the rascals, called the Holy Alliance,
and the slavery of the whole civilized world. This is the stuff
that gives us Englishmen an asylum ; that gives us time to
breathe ; that enables us to deal our tyrants blows, which, with
out the existence of this stuff, they never would receive. This
America, this scene of happiness under a free government, is the

• >beam in the eye, the thorn in the side, the worm in the vitals, of
every despot upon the face of the earth.

320. An American labourer is not regulated, as to time, by
clocks and watches. The sun, who seldom hides his face, tells him
when to begin in the morning and when to leave off at night.
He has a dollar, a zvkole dollar for his work ; but then it is the
work of a whole day. Here is no dispute about hours. " Hours
" were made for slaves," is an old saying ; and, really, they seem
here to act upon it as a practical maxim. This is a great thing
in agricultural affairs. It prevents so many disputes. It removes
so great a cause of disagreement. The American labourers, like
the tavern-keepers, are never servile, but always civil. Neither
boobishness nor meanness mark their character. They never creep
and fawn, and are never rude. Employed about your house as
day-labourers, they never come to interlope for victuals or drink.
They have no idea of such a thing : Their pride would restrain
them if their plenty did not ; and, thus would it be with all
labourers, in all countries, were they left to enjoy the fair produce
of their labour. Full pocket or empty pocket, these American
labourers are always the same men ; no saucy cunning in the one
case, and no base crawling in the other. This, too, arises from
the free institutions of government. A man has a voice because
he is a man, and not because he is the possessor of money. And,
shall I never see our English labourers in this happy state ?

321. Let those English farmers, who love to see a poor wretched
labourer stand trembling before them with his hat off, and who
think no more of him than of a dog, remain where they are ; or,
go off, on the cavalry horses, to the devil at once, if they wish to
avoid the tax-gatherer ; for, they would, here, meet with so many
mortifications, that they would, to a certainty, hang themselves
in a month.

322. There are some, and even many, farmers, who do not
work themselves in the fields. But, they all attend to the thing, and

re all equally civil to their working people. They manage their

144

FOOD AND RAIMENT

affairs very judiciously. Little talking. Orders plainly given
in few words, and in a decided tone. This is their only secret.

323. The cattle and implements used in husbandry are cheaper
than in England ; that is to say, lower priced. The wear and tear
not nearly half so much as upon a farm in England of the same
size. The climate, the soil, the gentleness and docility of the
horses and oxen, the lightness of the waggons and carts, the
lightness and toughness of the ivood of which husbandry imple
ments are made, the simplicity of the harness, and, above all, the
ingenuity and handiness of the workmen in repairing, and in
making shift : all these make the implements a matter of very
little note. Where horses are kept, the shoing of them is the most
serious kind of expence.

324. The first business of a farmer is, here, and ought to be
every where, to live zvell ; to live in ease and plenty ; to " keep
hospitality," as the old English saying was. To save money is a
secondary consideration ; but, any English farmer, who is a good
farmer there, may, if he will bring his industry and care with
him, and be sure to leave his pride and insolence (if he have any)
along with his anxiety, behind him, live in ease and plenty here,
and keep hospitality, and save a great parcel of money too. If
he have the jack-Daw taste for heaping little round things to
gether in a hole, or chest, he may follow his taste. I have often
thought of my good neighbour, JOHN GATER, who, if he were here,
with his pretty clipped hedges, his garden -looking fields, and his
neat homesteads, would have visitors from far and near ; and,
while every one would admire and praise, no soul would envy him
his possessions. Mr. GATER would soon have all these things.
The hedges only want planting ; and he would feel so com
fortably to know that the Botley Parson could never again poke
his nose into his sheepfold or his pig-stye. However, let me«
hope, rather, that the destruction of the Borough-tyranny, will!
soon make England a country, fit for an honest and industrious!
man to live in. Let me hope, that a relief from grinding taxation \
will soon relieve men of their fears of dying in poverty, and will,
thereby, restore to England the " hospitality," for which she was
once famed, but which now really exists no where but in America.

CHAPTER X.

EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING.

325. IT must be obvious, that these must be in proportion to
the number in family, and to the style of living. Therefore,
every one knowing how he stands in these two respects, the best
thing for me to do is to give an account of the prices of house-
rent, food, raiment, and servants ; or, as they are called here,
helpers.

326. In the great cities and towns house-rent is very high-
priced ; but, then, nobody but mad people live there except they
have business there, and, then, they are paid back their rent in
the profits of that business. This is so plain a matter, that no
argument is necessary. It is unnecessary to speak about the
expences of a farm-house : because, the farmer eats, and very
frequently wears, his own produce. If these be high-priced,
so is that part which he sells. Thus both ends meet with him.

327. I am, therefore, supposing the case of a man, who follows
no business, and who lives upon what he has got. In England he
cannot eat and drink and wear the interest of his money ; for the
Boroughmongers have pawned half his income, and they will
have it, or his blood. He wishes to escape from this alternative.
He wishes to keep his blood, and enjoy his money too. He would
come to America ; but he does not know, whether prices here will
not make up for the robbery of the Borough-villains ; and he
wishes to know, too, zvhat sort of society he is going into. Of the
latter I will speak in the next chapter.

328. The price of house-rent and fuel is, when at more than
three miles from New York, as low as it is at the same distance
from any great city or town in England. The price of wheaten
bread is a third lower than it is in any part of England. The price
of becfy mutton, lamb, veal, small pork, hog-meat, poultry, is one
half the London price : the first as good, the two next very nearly
as good, and all the rest far, very far, better than in London.
The sheep and lambs that I now kill for my house are as fat as
any that I ever saw in all my life ; and they have been running in
wild ground, wholly uncultivated for many years, all the summer.
A lamb, killed the week before last, weighing in the whole, thirty-
eight pounds, had five pounds of loose fat and three pounds and ten

146

EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

ounces of suet. We cut a pound of solid fat from each breast ;
and, after that it was too fat to be pleasant to eat. My flock being
small, forty, or thereabouts, of some neighbours joined them ;
and they have all got fat together. I have missed the interlopers
lately : I suppose the " Yorkers " have eaten them up by this
time. What they have fattened on except brambles and cedars,
I am sure I do not know. If any Englishman should be afraid
that he will fiiid no roast-beef here, it may be sufficient to tell
him, that an ox was killed, last winter, at Philadelphia, the quarters
of which weighed two thousand, two hundred, and some odd pounds,
and he was sold TO THE BUTCHER for one thousand three
hundred dollars. This is proof enough of the spirit of enterprize,
and of the disposition in the public to encourage it. I believe
this to have been the fattest ox that ever was killed in the world.
Three times as much money, or, perhaps, ten times as much,
might have been made, if the ox had been shown for money. But,
this the owner would not permit : and he sold the ox in that
condition. I need hardly say that the owner was a Quaker.
New Jersey had the honour of producing this ox, and the owner's
name was JOB TYLER.

329. That there must be good bread in America is pretty evident
from the well known fact, that hundreds of thousands of barrels
of flour are, most years, sent to England, finer than any that
England can produce. And, having now provided the two
principal articles, I will suppose, as a matter of course, that a
gentleman will have a garden, an orchard, and a cow or two ; but,
if he should be able (no easy matter) to find a genteel country-
house without these conveniences, he may buy butter, cheaper,
and, upon an average, better than in England. The garden stuff,
if he send to New York for it, he must buy pretty dear ; and, faith,
he ought to buy it dear, if he will not have some planted and
preserved.

330. Cheese, of the North River produce, I have bought as good
of Mr. STICKLER of New York as I ever tasted in all my life ; and,
indeed, no better cheese need be wished for than what is now
made in this country. The average price is about seven pence a
pound (English money), which is much lower than even middling
cheese is in England. Perhaps, generally speaking, the cheese
here is not so good as the better kinds in England ; but, there is
none here so poor as the poorest in England. Indeed the people
would not eat it, which is the best security against its being made.
Mind, I state distinctly, that as good cheese as I ever tasted, if
not the best, was of American produce. I know the article well.
Bread and cheese dinners have been the dinners of a good fourth
of my life. I know the Cheshire, Gloucester, Wiltshire, Stilton,
and the Parmasan ; and I never tasted better than American
cheese, bought of Mr. STICKLER, in Broad Street, New York.
And this cheese Mr. STICKLER informs me is nothing uncommon
in the county of Cheshire in Massachusetts ; he knows at least a

EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

hundred persons himself that make it equally good. And,
indeed, why should it not be thus in a country where the pasture
is so rich ; where the sun warms every thing into sweetness ;
where the cattle eat the grass close under the shade of the thickest
trees : which we know well they will not do in England. Take
any fruit which has grown in the shade in England, and you will
find that it has not half the sweetness in it, that there is in fruit of
the same bulk, grown in the sun. But, here the sun sends his
heat down through all the boughs and leaves. The manufacturing
of cheese is not yet generally brought, in this country, to the
English perfection ; but, here are all the materials, and the rest
will soon follow.

331. Groceries, as they are called, are, upon an average, at far
less than half the English price. Tea, sugar, coffee, spices,
chocolate, cocoa, salt, sweet oil ; all free of the Borough-mongers'
taxes and their pawn, are so cheap as to be within the reach of
every one. Chocolate, which is a treat to the rich, in England,
is here used even by the negroes. Sweet oil, raisins, currants ;
all the things from the Levant, are at afour-th or fifth of the English
price. The English people, who pay enormously to keep pos
session of the East and West Indies, purchase the produce even
of the English possessions at a price double of that which the
Americans give for that very produce ! What a hellish oppression
must that people live under ! Candles and soap (quality for
quality) are half the English price. Wax candles (beautiful) are
at a third of the English price. It is no very great piece of ex
travagance to burn wax candles constantly here, and it is frequently
done by genteel people, who do not make their own candles.

332. Fish I have not mentioned, because fish is not every where
to be had in abundance. But, any where near the coast it is ;
and. it is so cheap, that one wonders how it can be brought to
market for the money. Fine Black-Rock, as good, at least, as
codfish, I have seen sold, and in cold weather too, at an English
farthing a pound. They now bring us fine fish round the country
to our doors, at an English three pence a pound. I believe they
count fifty or sixty sorts of fish in New York market, as the average.
Oysters, other shell-fish, called clams. In short, the variety and
abundance are such that I cannot describe them.

333. An idea of the state of plenty may be formed from these
facts : nobody but the free negroes who have families ever think
of eating a sheep's head and pluck. It is seldom that oxen's heads
are used at home, or sold, and never in the country. In the course
of the year hundreds of calves' heads, large bits and whole joints
of meat, are left on the shambles, at New York, for any body to
take away that will. They generally fall to the share of the street
hogs, a thousand or two of which are constantly fatting in New
York on the meat and fish flung out of the houses. I shall be
told, that it is only in hot zveather, that the shambles are left thus
garnished. Very true ; but, are the shambles of any other country

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EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

thus garnished in hot zveather ? Oh ! no ! If it were not for the
superabundance, all the food would be sold at some price or other.

334. After bread, flesh, fish, fowl, butter, cheese and groceries,
comes fruit. Apples, pears, cherries, peaches at a tenth part of
the English price. The other day I met a man going to market
with a waggon load of winter pears. He had high boards on the
sides of the waggon, and his waggon held about 40 or 50 bushels.
I have bought very good apples this year for four pence halfpenny
(English) a bushel, to boil for little pigs. Besides these, straw
berries grow wild in abundance ; but no one will take the trouble
to get them. Huckle-berries in the woods in great abundance,
chesnuts all over the country. Four pence half-penny (English)
a quart for these latter. Cranberries, the finest fruit for tarts
that ever grew, are bought for about a dollar a bushel, and they
will keep, flung down in the corner of a room, for five months in
the year. As a sauce to venison or mutton, they are as good as
currant jelly. Pine apples in abundance, for several months in
the year, at an average of an English shilling each. Melons at
an average of an English eight pence. In short, what is there not
in the way of fruit ? All excellent of their kinds and all for a
mere trifle, compared to what they cost in England.

335. I am afraid to speak of drink, lest I should be supposed to
countenance the common use of it. But, protesting most decidedly
against this conclusion, I proceed to inform those, who are not
content with the cow for vintner and brewer, that all the
materials for making people drunk, or muddle headed, are
much cheaper here than in England. Beer, good ale, I mean,
a great deal better than the common public-house beer in England ;
in short, good, strong, clear ale, is, at New York, eight dollars a
barrel ; that is, about fourteen English pence a gallon. Brew
yourself, in the country, and it is about seven English pence a
gallon : that is to say, less than two pence a quart. No Borough-
mongers' tax on malt, hops, or beer ! Portugal wine is about
half the price that it is in England. French wine a sixth part of
the English price. Brandy and Rum about the same in pro
portion ; and the common spirits of the country are about three
shillings and sixpence (English) a gallon. Come on, then, if you
love toping ; for here you may drink yourselves blind at the price
of sixpence.

336. WEARING APPAREL comes chiefly from England, and all the
materials of dress are as cheap as they are there ; for, though there
is a duty laid on the importation, the absence of taxes, and the
cheap food and drink, enable the retailer to sell as low here as
there. Shoes are cheaper than in England ; for, though shoe
makers are well paid for their labour, there is no Borough-villain
to tax the leather. All the India and French goods are at half
the English price. Here no ruffian can seize you by the throat
and tear of! your suspected handkerchief. Here SIGNOR WAITH-
MAN, or any body in that line, might have sold French gloves and

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EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

shawls without being tempted to quit the field of politics as a
compromise with the government ; and without any breach of
covenants, after being suffered to escape with only a gentle
squeeze.

337. Household Furniture, all cheaper than in England.
Mahogany timber a third part of the English price. The distance
shorter to bring it, and the tax next to nothing on importation.
The woods here, the pine, the ash, the white-oak, the walnut, the
tulip-tree, and many others, all excellent. The workman paid
high wages, but no tax. No Borough- villians to share in the
amount of the price.

338. Horses, carriages, harness, all as good, as gay, and cheaper
than in England. I hardly ever saw a rip in this country. The
hackney coach horses and the coaches themselves, at New York,
bear no resemblance to things of the same name in London.
The former are all good, sound, clean, and handsome. What the
latter are I need describe in no other way than to say, that the
coaches seem fit for nothing but the fire and the horses for the
dogs.

339. Domestic servants ! This is a weighty article : not in the
cost, however, so much as in the plague. A good man servant is
worth thirty pounds sterling a year ; and a good woman servant,
twenty pounds sterling a year. But, this is not all ; for, in the first
place, they will hire only by the month. This is what they, in
fact, do in England ; for, there they can quit at a month's tvarning.
The man will not wear a livery, any more than he will wear a
halter round his neck. This is no great matter ; for, as your
neighbours' men are of the same taste, you expose yourself to no
humiliation on this score. Neither men nor women will allow
you to call them servants, and they will take especial care not to
call themselves by that name. This seems something very
capricious, at the least ; and, as people in such situations of life,
really are servants, according to even the sense which MOSES
gives to the word, when he forbids the working of the man servant
and the maid servant, the objection, the rooted aversion, to the
name, seems to bespeak a mixture of false pride and of insolence,
neither of which belong to the American character, even in the
lowest walks of life. I will, therefore, explain the cause of this
dislike to the name of servant. When this country was first
settled, there were no people that laboured for other people : but,
as man is always trying to throw the working part off his own
shoulders, as we see by the conduct of priests in all ages, negroes
were soon introduced. Englishmen, who had fled from tyranny
at home, were naturally shy of calling other men their slaves :
and, therefore, "/or more grace," as Master Matthew says in the
play, they called their slaves servants. But, though I doubt not
that this device was quite efficient in quieting their own con
sciences, it gave rise to the notion, that slave and servant meant
one and the same thing, a conclusion perfectly natural and directly

EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

deducible from the premises. Hence every free man and woman
have rejected with just disdain the appellation of servant. One
would think, however, that they might be reconciled to it by the
conduct of some of their superiors in life, who, without the
smallest apparent reluctance, call themselves " Public Servants,"
in imitation, I suppose, of English Ministers, and his Holiness,
the Pope, who, in the excess of his humility, calls himself, " the
" Servant of the Servants of the Lord." But perhaps, the
American Domestics have observed, that " Public Servant "
really means master. Be the cause what it may, however, they
continue most obstinately to scout the name of servant ; and,
though they still keep a civil tongue in their head, there is not one
of them that will not resent the affront with more bitterness than
any other that you can offer. The man, therefore, who would
deliberately offer such an affront must be a fool. But, there is
an inconvenience far greater than this. People in general are so
comfortably situated, that very few, and then only of those who
are pushed hard, will become domestics to any body. So that,
generally speaking, Domestics of both sexes are far from good.
They are honest : but they are not obedient. They are careless.
Wanting frequently in the greater part of those qualities, which
make their services conducive to the neatness of houses and
comfort of families. What a difference would it make .in this
country, if it could be supplied with nice, clean, dutiful English
maid servants ! As to the men, it does not much signify ; but,
for the want of the maids, nothing but the absence of grinding
taxation can compensate. As to bringing them with you, it is as
wild a project as it would be to try to carry the sunbeams to
England. They will begin to change before the ship gets on
soundings ; and, before they have been here a month, you must
turn them out of doors, or they will you. If, by any chance,
you find them here, it may do ; but bring them out and keep them
you cannot. The best way is to put on your philosophy ; never
to look at this evil without, at the same time, looking at the many
good things that you find here. Make the best selection you
can. Give good wages, not too much work, and resolve, at all
events, to treat them with civility.

340. However, what is this plague, compared with that of the
tax gatherer ? What is this plague compared with the constant
sight of beggars and paupers, and the constant dread of becoming
a pauper or beggar yourself ? If your commands are not obeyed
with such alacrity as in England, you have, at any rate, nobody to
command you. You are not ordered to " stand and deliver "
twenty or thirty times in the year by the insolent agent of Borough-
mongers. No one comes to forbid you to open or shut up a
window. No insolent set of Commissioners send their order for
you to dance attendance on them, to shew cause why they should
not double-tax you : and, when you have shown cause, even on
your oath, make you pay the tax, laugh in your face, and leave you

EXPENCES OF HOUSEKEEPING

an appeal from themselves to another set, deriving their authority
from the same source, and having a similar interest in oppressing
you, and thus laying your property prostrate beneath the hoof
of an insolent and remorseless tyranny. Free, wholly free, from
this tantalizing, this grinding, this odious curse, what need you
care about the petty plagues of Domestic Servants ?

341. However, as there are some men and some women, who
can never be at heart's ease, unless they have the power of
domineering over somebody or other, and who will rather be
slaves themselves than not have it in their power to treat others
as slaves, it becomes a man of fortune, proposing to emigrate to
America, to consider soberly, whether he, or his wife, be of this
taste ; and, if the result of his consideration be in the affirmative,
his best way will be to continue to live under the Boroughmongers,
or, which I wrould rather recommend, hang himself at once.

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CHAPTER XL

MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE.

342. ALL these are, generally speaking, the same as those of the
people of England. The French call this people Les Anglo-
Americains : and, indeed, what are they else ? Of the manners
and customs somewhat peculiar to America I have said so much,
here and there, in former Chapters, that I can hardly say any
thing new here upon these matters. But, as society is naturally
a great thing with a gentleman, who thinks of coming hither with
his wife and children, I will endeavour to describe the society
that he will find here. To give general descriptions is not so
satisfactory as it is to deal a little in particular instances ; to tell
of what one has seen and experienced. This is what I shall do ;
and, in this Chapter I wish to be regarded as addressing myself
to a most worthy and public-spirited gentleman of moderate
fortune, in Lancashire, who, with a large family, now balances
whether he shall come, or stay.

343. Now, then, my dear Sir, this people contains very few
persons very much raised in men's estimation, above the general
mass ; for, though there are some men of immense fortunes,
their wealth does very little indeed in the way of purchasing even
the outward signs of respect ; and, as to adulation, it is not to be
purchased with love or money. Men, be they what they may, are
generally called by their two names, without any thing prefixed
or added. I am one of the greatest men in this country at present ;
for people in general call me " Cobbett," though the Quakers
provokingly persevere in putting the William before it, and my
old friends in Pennsylvania, use even the word Billy, which, in
the very sound of the letters, is an antidote to every thing like,
thirst for distinction.

344. Fielding, in one of his romances, observes, that there are
but few cases, in which a husband can be justified in availing
himself of the right which the law gives him to bestow manual
chastisement upon his wife, and that one of these, he thinks, is,
when any pretensions to superiority of blood make their appearance
in her language and conduct. They have a better cure for this
malady here ; namely ; silent, but, ineffable contempt.

345. It is supposed, in England, that this equality of estimation

153

MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND

must beget a general coarseness and rudeness of behaviour.
Never was there a greater mistake. No man likes to be treated
with disrespect ; and, when he finds that he can obtain respect
only by treating others with respect, he will use that only means.
When he finds that neither haughtiness nor wealth will bring him
a civil word, he becomes civil himself ; and, I repeat it again and
again, this is a country of universal civility.

346. The causes of hypocrisy are the fear of loss and the hope
of gain. Men crawl to those, whom, in their hearts, they despise,
because they fear the effects of their ill-will and hope to gain by
their good-will. The circumstances of all ranks are so easy here,
that there is no cause for hypocrisy ; and the thing is not of so
fascinating a nature, that men should love it for its own sake.

34?9- The boasting of wealth, and the endeavouring to disguise
poverty, these two acts, so painful to contemplate, are almost
total strangers in this country ; for, no man can gain adulation
or respect by his wealth, and no man dreads the effects of poverty,
because no man sees any dreadful effects arising from poverty.

348. That anxious eagerness to get on, which is seldom un
accompanied with some degree of envy of more successful neigh
bours, and which has its foundation first in a dread of future want,
and next in a desire to obtain distinction by means of wealth : this
anxious eagerness, so unamiable in itself, and so unpleasant an
inmate of the breast, so great a sourer of the temper, is a stranger
to America, where accidents and losses, which would drive an
Englishman half mad, produce but very little agitation.

349. From the absence of so many causes of uneasiness, of
envy, of jealousy, of rivalship, and of mutual dislike, society,
that is to say, the intercourse between man and man, and family
and family, becomes easy and pleasant ; while the universal
plenty is the cause of universal hospitality. I know, and have
ever known, but little of the people in the cities and towns in
America ; but, the difference between them and the people in
the country can only be such as is found in all other countries.
As to the manner of living in the country, I was, the other day.
at a gentleman's house, and I asked the lady for her bill of fare
for the year. I saw fourteen fat hogs weighing about twenty
score a piece, which were to come into the house the next Monday ;
for here they slaughter them all in one day. This led me to ask,
" Why, in God's name, what do you eat in a year ? " The Bill
of fare was this, for this present year : about this same quantity
of hog-meat : four beeves : and forty-six fat sheep ! Besides the
sucking pigs (of which we had then one on the table), besides
lambs, and besides the produce of seventy hen fowls, not to mention
good parcels of geese, ducks and turkeys, but, not to forget a garden
of three quarters of an acre and the butter of ten cows, not one
ounce of which is ever sold ! What do you think of that ? Why,
you will say, this must be some great overgrown farmer, that has
swallowed up half the country ; or some nabob sort of merchant.

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CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE

Not at all. He has only one hundred and fifty four acres of land,
(all he consumes is of the produce of this land), and he lives in
the same house that his English-born grandfather lived in.

350. When the hogs are killed, the house is full of work. The
sides are salted down as pork. The hams are smoked. The
lean meats are made into sausages, of which, in this family, they
make about tzvo hundred weight. These latter, with broiled fish,
eggs, dried beef, dried mutton, slices of ham, tongue, bread,
butter, cheese, short cakes, buckwheat cakes, sweet meats of
various sorts, and many other things, make up the breakfast fare
of the year, and, a dish of beef steakes is frequently added.

351. When one sees this sort of living, with the houses full of
good beds, ready for the guests as well as the family to sleep in,
we cannot help perceiving, that this is that " English Hospitality,"
of which we have read so much ; but, which Boroughmongers'
taxes and pawns have long since driven out of England. This
American way of life puts one in mind of FORTESCUE'S fine
description of the happy state of the English, produced by their
good laws, which kept every man's property sacred, even from the
grasp of the king. " Every inhabitant is at his Liberty fully to

use and enjoy whatever his Farm produceth, the Fruits of the
Earth, the Increase of his Flock, and the like : All the Improve
ments he makes, whether by his own proper Industry, or of
those he retains in his Service, are his own to use and enjoy
without the Lett, Interruption, or Denial of any : If he be in
any wise injured, or oppressed, he shall have his Amends and
Satisfaction against the party offending : Hence it is, that the
Inhabitants are Rich in Gold, Silver, and in all the Necessaries
and Conveniences of Life. They drink no Water, unless at
certain Times, upon a Religious Score, and by Way of doing
Penance. They are fed, in great Abundance, with all sorts of
Flesh and Fish, of which they have Plenty every where ; they
are cloathed throughout in good Woollens ; their Bedding and
other Furniture in their Houses are of Wool, and that in great
Store : They are also well provided with all other Sorts of
Household Goods, and necessary Implements for Husbandry : tf
Every one, according to his Rank, hath all Things which conduce I
to make Life easy and happy. They are not sued at Law but L
before the Ordinary Judges, where they are treated with Mercy
and Justice, according to the Laws of the Land ; neither are
they impleaded in Point of Property, or arraigned for any
Capital Crime, how heinous soever, but before the King's
Judges, and according to the Laws of the Land. These are
the Advantages consequent from that Political Mixt Government
which obtains in England "

352. This passage, which was first pointed out to me by SIR
FRANCIS BURDETT, describes the state of England four hundred
years ago ; and this, with the polish of modern times added, is
now the state of the Americans. Their forefathers brought the

MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND

" English Hospitality " with them ; for, when they left the
country, the infernal Boroughmonger Funding system had not
begun. The STUARTS were religious and prerogative tyrants ;
but they were not, like their successors, the Boroughmongers,
taxing, plundering tyrants. Their quarrels with their subjects
were about mere words ; with the Boroughmongers it is a question
of purses and strong-boxes, of goods and chattels, lands and
tenements. " Confiscation " is their word ; and you must submit,
be hanged, or flee. They take away men's property at their
pleasure, without any appeal to any tribunal. They appoint
Commissioners to seize what they choose. There is, in fact, no
law of property left. The Bishop-begotten and hell-born system
of Funding has stripped England of every vestige of what was her
ancient character. Her hospitality along with her freedom have
crossed the Atlantic ; and here they are to shame our ruffian
tyrants, if they were sensible of shame, and to give shelter to those
who may be disposed to deal them distant blows.

353. It is not with a little bit of dry toast, so neatly put in a
rack ; a bit of butter so round and small ; a little milk pot so
pretty and so empty ; an egg for you, the host and hostess not
liking eggs. It is not with looks that seem to say, " don't eat too
much, for the taxgatherer is coming." It is not thus that you are
received in America. You are not much asked, not much pressed,
to eat and drink ; but, such an abundance is spread before you,
and so hearty and so cordial is your reception, that you instantly
lose all restraint, and are tempted to feast whether you be hungry
or not. And, though the manner and style are widely different
in different houses, the abundance every where prevails. This
is the strength of the government : a happy people : and no
government ought to have any other strength.

354. But, you may say, perhaps, that plenty, however great,
is not all that is wanted. Very true : for the mind is of more
account than the carcass. But, here is mind too. These repasts,
amongst people of any figure, come forth under the super-
intendance of industrious and accomplished house-wifes, or
their daughters, who all read a great deal, and in whom that gentle
treatment from parents and husbands, which arises from an
absence of racking anxiety, has created an habitual, and even an
hereditary good humour. These ladies can converse with you
upon almost any subject, and the ease and gracefulness of their
behaviour are surpassed by those of none of even our best-
tempered English women. They fade at an earlier age than in
England ; but, till then, they are as beautiful as the women in
Cornwall, which contains, to my thinking, the prettiest women
in our country. However, young or old, blooming or fading,
well or ill, rich or poor, they still preserve their good humour.

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CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE

' But, since, alas ! frail beauty must decay,

' CuiTd, or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to grey ;

' Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,

' And she who scorns a man must die a maid ;

' What, then, remains, but well our pow'r to use,

'And keep good humour still, whate'er we lose?

' And, trust me, Dear, good-humour can prevail,

' When nights and fits, and screams and scolding fail."

355. This beautiful passage, from the most beautiful of poets,
which ought to be fastened in large print upon every lady's dressing
table, the American women, of all ranks, seem to have by heart.
Even amongst the very lowest of the people, you seldom hear of
that torment, which the old proverb makes the twin of a smoky
house.

356. There are very few really ignorant men in America of native
growth. Every farmer is more or less of a reader. There is no
brogue, no provincial dialect. No class like that which the French
call peasantry, and which degrading appellation the miscreant
spawn of the Funds have, of late years, applied to the whole mass
of the most useful of the people in England, those who do the work
and fight the battles. And, as to the men, who would naturally
form your acquaintances, they, I know from experience, are as
kind, frank, and sensible men as are, on the general run, to be
found in England, even with the powrer of selection. They are
all well-informed ; modest without shyness ; always free to
communicate what they know, and never ashamed to acknowledge
that they have yet to learn. You never hear them boast of their
possessions, and you never hear them complaining of their wants.
They have all been readers from their youth up ; and there are
few subjects upon which they cannot converse with you, whether
of a political or scientific nature. At any rate, they always hear
with patience. I do not know that I ever heard a native American
interrupt another man while he was speaking. Their sedateness
and coolness, the deliberate manner in which they say and do every
thing, and the slowness and reserve with which they express their
assent ; these are very wrongly estimated, when they are taken
for marks of a want of feeling. It must be a tale of woe indeed,
that will bring a tear from an American's eye ; but any trumped
up story will send his hand to his pocket, as the ambassadors from
the beggars of France, Italy and Germany can fully testify.

357. However, you will not, for a long while, know what to do
for want of the quick responses of the English tongue, and the
decided tone of the English expression. The loud voice : the
hard squeeze by the hand ; the instant assent or dissent : the
clamorous joy : the bitter trailing : the ardent friendship : the
deadly enmity : the love that makes people kill themselves : the
hatred that makes them kill others. All these belong to the
characters of Englishmen, in whose minds and hearts every
feeling exists in the extreme. To decide the question, which
character is, upon the whole, best, the American or the English,,

M 157

MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND

we must appeal to some third party. But, it is no matter : we
cannot change our natures. For my part, who can, in nothing,
think or act by halves, I must belie my very nature, if I said that
I did not like the character of my own countrymen best. We
all like our own parents and children better than other people's
parents and children ; not because they are better, but because
are ours : because they belong to us and we to them, and
because we must resemble each other. There are some Americans
that I like full as well as I do any man in England ; but, if, nation
against nation, I put the question home to my heart, it instantly
decides in favour of my countrymen.

358. You must not be offended if you find people here take but
little interest in the concerns of England. Why should they ?

BOLTON F R cannot hire spies to entrap them. As matter

of curiosity, they may contemplate such works as those of
FLETCHER ; but, they cannot feel much upon the subject ; and
they are not insincere enough to express much.

359. There is one thing in the Americans, which, though its
proper place was further back, I have reserved, or rather kept
back, to the last moment. It has presented itself several times ;
but I have turned from the thought, as men do from thinking cf
any mortal disease that is at work in their frame. It is not
covetousness ; it is not niggardliness ; it is not insincerity ;
it is not enviousness ; it is not cowardice, above all things : it is
DRINKING. Aye, and that too, amongst but too many men
who, one would think, would loath it. You can go into hardly
any man's house, without being asked to drink wine, or spirits,
even in the morning. They are quick at meals, are little eaters,
seem to care little about what they eat, and never talk about it.
This, which arises out of the universal abundance of good and
even fine eatables, is very amiable. You are here disgusted with
none of those eaters by reputation that are found, especial
amongst the Parsons, in England : fellows that unbutton at it.
Nor do the Americans sit and tope much after dinner, and talk on
till they get into nonsense and smut, which last is a sure mark of a
silly and, pretty generally, even of a base mind. But, they tipple :
and the infernal spirits they tipple, too ! The scenes that I
witnessed at Harrisburgh I shall never forget. I almost wished
(God forgive me !) that there were Boroughmongers here to tax
these drinkers : they would soon reduce them to a moderate
"<iose. Any nation that feels itself uneasy with its fulness of good
things, has only to resort to an application of Boroughmongers.
These are by no means nice feeders or of contracted throat :
they will suck down any thing from the poor man's pot of beer to
the rich man's lands and tenements.

360. The Americans preserve their gravity and quietness arid
good-humour even in their drink ; and so much the worse. It
were far better for them to be as noisy and quarrelsome as the
English drunkards ; for then the odiousness of the vice would be

CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE

more visible, and the vice itself might become less frequent
Few vices want an apology , and drinking has not only its apologies
but its praises : for, besides the appellation of " generous wine,"
and the numerous songs, some in very elegant and witty language,
from the pens of debauched men of talents, drinking is said to be
necessary, in certain cases at least, to raise the spirits, and to keep
out cold. Never was any thing more false. Whatever intoxicates
must enfeeble in the end, and whatever enfeebles must chill. It
is very well known, in the Northern countries, that, if the cold be
such as to produce danger of frost-biting, you must take care not
to drink strong liquors.

361. To see this beastly vice in young men is shocking. At one
of the taverns at Harrisburgh there were several as fine young men
as I ever saw. Well-dressed, well educated, polite, and every
thing but sober. WThat a squalid, drooping, sickly set they looked
in the morning !

362. Even little boys at, or under, twelve years of age, go into
stores, and tip off their drams ! I never struck a child, in anger,
in my life, that I recollect ; but, if I were so unfortunate as to
have a son to do this, he having had an example to the contrary
in me, I would, if all other means of reclaiming him failed, whip
him like a dog, or, which would be better, make him an out-cast
from my family.

363. However, I must not be understood as meaning, that this
tippling is universal amongst gentlemen ; and, God be thanked,
the women of any figure in life do by no means give in to the
practice ; but, abhor it as much as well-bred women in England,
who, in general, no more think of drinking strong liquors, than
they do of drinking poison.

364. I shall be told, that men in the harvest field must have
something to drink. To be sure, where perspiration almost
instantly carries off the drink, the latter does not remain so long
to burn the liver, or whatever else it does burn. But, I much
question the utility even here ; and I think, that, in the long run,
a water-drinker would beat a spirit drinker at any thing, provided
both had plenty of good food. And, besides, beer, which does not
burn, at any rate, is within every one's reach in America, if he will
but take the trouble to brew it.

365. A man, at Botley, whom I was very severely reproaching
for getting drunk and lying in the road, whose name was JAMES
ISAACS, and who was, by the by, one of the hardest workers I 'ever
kfrew, said, in answer, " Why, now, Sir, NOAH and LOT were two
" very good men, you know, and yet they loved a drop of drink."
" Yes, you drunken fool," replied I, " but you do not read that
" Isaac ever got drunk and rolled about the road." I could not
help thinking, however, that the BIBLE SOCIETIES, with the wise
Emperor Alexander and the Holy Alliance at their head, might as
well (to say nothing about the cant of the thing) leave the Bible
to work its own way. I had seen ISAACS dead drunk, lying

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MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND

stretched out, by my front gate, against the public highway ;
and, if he had followed the example of NOAH, he would not have
endeavoured to excuse himself in the modest manner that he did,
but would have affixed an everlasting curse on me and my children
to all generations.

366. The soldiers, in the regiment that I belonged to, many of
whom served in the American war, had a saying, that the Quakers
used the word tired in place of the word drunk. Whether any of
them do ever get tired themselves, I know not ; but, at any rate
they most resolutely set their faces against the common use of
spirits. They forbid their members to retail them ; and, in case
of disobedience, they disown them.

367. However, there is no remedy but the introduction of beer,
and, I am very happy to know, that beer is, every day, becoming
more and more fashionable. At Bristol in Pennsylvania, I was
pleased to see excellent beer in clean and nice pewter pots. Beer
does not kill. It does not eat out the vitals and take the colour
from the cheek. It will make men " tired," indeed, by midnight ;
but it does not make them half dead in the morning. We call
wine the juice of the grape, and such it is with a proporton of,
ardent spirits, equal, in Portugal wine, to a fifth of the wrine ; and
therefore, when a man has taken down a bottle of Port or of
Madeira, he has nearly half a pint of ardent spirits in him. And
yet how many foolish mothers give their children Port wine to
strengthen them ! I never like your wine-physicians, though they
are great favourites with but too many patients. BONIFACE, in
the Beaux Stratagem, says that he has eaten his ale, drunk his ale,
worked upon his ale, and slept upon his ale, for forty years, and
that he has grown fatter and fatter ; but, that his wife (God rest
her soul !) would not take it pure ; she would adulterate it with
brandy ; till, at last, finding that the poor woman was never well,
he put a tub of her favourite by her bedside, which, in a short
time, brought her " a happy release " from this " state of pro
bation," and carried her off into the " the world of spirits."
Whether Boniface meant this as a. pun, I do not know ; for, really,
if I am to judge from the practice of many of the vagrant fanatics,
I must believe, that, when they rave about the spirit's entering
them, they mean that which goes out of a glass down their throat.
Priests may make what they will of their devil ; they may make
him a reptile with a forked tongue, or a beast with a cloven hoof;
they may, like Milton, dress him out with seraphic wings ; or
like Saint Francis, they may give him horns and tail : but, I say
that the devil, who is the strongest tempter, and who produces the
most mischief in the world, approaches us in the shape of liquid, /*».
not melted brimstone, but wine, gin, brandy, rum, and whiskey.
One comfort is, however, that this devil, of whose existence we
can have no doubt, who is visible and even tangible, we can, if we
will, without the aid of priests, or, rather, in spite of them, easily
.and safely set at defiance. There are many wrong things which

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CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE

men do against the general and natural bent of their minds.
Fraud, theft, and even murder, are frequently, and most frequently
the offspring of want. In these cases, it is a choice of evils ; crime
or hunger. But, drinking to excess is a man's own act ; an evil
deliberately sought after ; an act of violence committed against
reason and against nature ; and that, too, without the smallest
temptation, except from that vicious appetite, which he himself
has voluntarily created.

368. You, my dear Sir, stand in need of no such lectures as this,
and the same is, I hope, the case with the far greater part of my
readers ; but, if it tend, in the smallest degree, to check the fearful
growth of this tree of unmixed evil ; if it should make the bottle
less cherished even in one small circle ; nay, if it keep but one
young man in the world in the paths of sobriety, how could my
time have been better bestowed ?

161

CHAPTER XII.

RURAL SPORTS.

369. THERE are persons, who question the right of man to pursue
and destroy the wild animals, which are called game. Such
persons, however, claim the right of killing foxes and hawks :
yet, these have as much right to live and to follow their food as
pheasants and partridges have. This, therefore, in such persons,
is nonsense.

370. Others, in their mitigated hostility to the sports of the
field, say, that it is zvanton cruelty to shoot or hunt ; and that we
kill animals from the farm-yard only because their flesh is necessary
to our oivn existence. PROVE THAT. No : you cannot. If
you could, it is but the " tyrant's plea " ; but you cannot : for
we know that men can, and do, live without animal food, and, if
their labour be not of an exhausting kind, live well too, and longer
than those who eat it. It comes to this, then, that we kill hogs
and oxen because we choose to kill them ; and, we kill game for
precisely the same reason.

371. A third class of objectors, seeing the weak position of the
two former, and still resolved to eat flesh, take their stand upon
this ground : that sportsmen send some game off wounded and
leave them in a state of suffering. These gentlemen forget the
operations performed upon calves, pigs, lambs and sometimes on
poultry. Sir ISAAC COFFIN prides himself upon teaching the
English ladies how to make turkey-capons ! Only think of the
separation of calves, pigs, and lambs, at an early age, from their
mothers ! Go, you sentimental eaters of veal, sucking pig and
lamb, and hear the mournful lowings, whinings, and bleatings ;
observe the anxious listen, the wistful look, and the dropping
tear, of the disconsolate dams ; and, then, while you have the
carcasses of their young ones under your teeth, cry out, as soon
as you can empty your mouths a little, against the cruelty of
hunting and shooting. Get up from dinner (but take care to
stuff well first), and go and drown the puppies of the bitch, and
the kittens of the cat, lest they should share a little in what their
mothers have guarded with so much fidelity ; and, as good stuffing
may tend to make you restless in the night, order the geese to be
picked alive, that, however your consciences may feel, your bed.-

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RURAL SPORTS

at least, may be easy and soft. Witness all this with your own
eyes ; and then go weeping to bed, at the possibility of a hare
having been terribly frightened without being killed, or of a bird
having been left in a thicket with a shot in its body or a fracture in
its wing. But, before you go up stairs, give your servant orders
to be early at market for fish, fresh out of the water ; that they
may be scaled, or skinned alive ! A truce with you, then, senti
mental eaters of flesh : and here I propose the terms of a lasting
compromise with you. We must, on each side, yield something :
we sportsmen will content ourselves with merely seeing the hares
skip and the birds fly : and you shall be content with the flesh and
fish that come from cases of natural death, of which, I am sure,
your compassionate disposition will not refuse us a trifling
allowance.

372. Nor have even the Pythagoreans a much better battery
against us. Sir RICHARD PHILLIPS, who once rang a peal in my
ears against shooting and hunting, does, indeed, eat neither flesh,
fish, nor fowl. His abstinence surpasses that of a Carmelite,
while his bulk would not disgrace a Benedictine Monk, or a
Protestant Dean. But, he forgets, that his shoes and breeches
and gloves are made of the skins of animals : he forgets that he
writes (and very eloquently too) wdth what has been cruelly taken
from a fowl ; and that, in order to cover the books which he has
had made and sold, hundreds of flocks and scores of droves must
have perished : nay, that, to get him his beaver-hat, a beaver must
have been hunted and killed, and, in the doing of which, many
beavers may have been wounded and left to pine away the rest of
their lives ; and, perhaps, many little orphan beavers, left to lament
the murder of their parents. BEN LEY was the only real and
sincere Pythagorean of modern times, that I ever heard of. He
protested, not only against eating the flesh of animals, but also
against robbing their backs ; and, therefore, his dress consisted
wholly of flax. But, even he, like Sir Richard Phillips, eat milk,
butter, cheese, and eggs ; though this was cruelly robbing the
hens, cows, and calves ; and, indeed causing the murder of the
calves. In addition, poor little BEN forgot the materials of book
binding : and, it was well he did ; for else, his Bible would have
gone into the fire !

373. Taking it for granted, then, that sportsmen are as good
as other folks on the score of humanity, the sports of the field, like
every thing else done in the fields, tend to produce, or preserve
health. I prefer them to all other pastime, because they produce
early rising : because they have no tendency to lead young men
into vicious habits. It is where men congregate that the vices
haunt. A hunter or a shooter may also be a gambler and a
drinker ; but, he is less likely to be fond of the two latter, if he be
fond of the former. Boys will take to something in the way of
pastime ; and, it is better that they take to that which is innocent,
healthy, and manly, than that which is vicious, unhealthy, and

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RURAL SPORTS

effeminate. Besides, the scenes of rural sport are necessarily
at a distance from cities and towns. This is another great con
sideration ; for though great talents are wanted to be employed in
the hives of men, they are very rarely acquired in these hives :
the surrounding objects are too numerous, too near the eye, too
frequently under it, and too artificial.

374. For these reasons I have always encouraged my sons to
pursue these sports. They have, until the age of 14 or 15, spent
their time, by day, chiefly amongst horses and dogs, and in the
fields and farm-yard ; and their candle-light has been spent
chiefly in reading books about hunting and shooting and about
dogs and horses. I have supplied them plentifully with books
and prints relating to these matters. They have drawn horses,
dogs, and game themselves. These things, in which they took
so deep an interest, not only engaged their attention and wholly
kept them from all taste for, and even all knowledge of, cards and
other senseless amusements ; but, they led them to read and zvrite
of their own accord : and, never in my life have I set them a copy
in writing nor attempted to teach them a word of reading. They
have learnt to read by looking into books about dogs and game ;
and they have learnt to write by imitating my writing, and by
writing endless letters to me, when I have been from home, about
their dogs and other rural concerns. While the Borough-tyrants
had me in Newgate for two years, with a thousand pounds fine,
for having expressed my indignation at their flogging of English
men, in the heart of England, under a guard of Hanoverian sabres,
I received volumes of letters from my children ; and, I have them
now, from the scrawl of three years, to the neat and beautiful hand
of thirteen. I never told them of any errors in their letters. All
was well. The best evidence of the utility of their writing, and the
strongest encouragement to write again, was a very clear anszver
from me, in a very precise hand, and upon very nice paper, which
they never failed promptly to receive. They have all written to
me before they could form a single letter. A little bit of paper,
with some ink-marks on it, folded up by themselves, and a wafer
stuck in it, used to be sent to me, and it was sure to bring the
writer a very, very kind answer. Thus have they gone on. So
far from being a trouble to me, they have been all pleasure and
advantage. For many years they have been so many secretaries.
I have dictated scores of registers to them, which have gone to
the press without my ever looking at them. I dictated registers to
them at the age of thirteen, and even of twelve. They have, as to
trust-worthiness, been grown persons, at. eleven or twelve. I
could leave my house and affairs, the paying of men, or the going
from home on business, to them at an age when boys in England,
in general, want servants to watch them to see that they do not
kill chickens, torment kittens, or set the buildings on fire.

375. Here is a good deal of boasting : but, it will not be denied,
that I have done a great deal in a short public life, and I see no

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RURAL SPORTS

harm in telling my readers of any of the means, that I have
employed ; especially as I know of few greater misfortunes than
that of breeding up things to be school-boys all their lives. . It is
not, that I have so many wonders of the world : it is that I have
pursued a rational plan of education, and one that any man may

Jursue, if he will, with similar effects. I remembered, too, that
myself had had a sportsman-education. I ran after the hare-
hounds at the age of nine or ten. I have many and many a day left
the rooks to dig up the wheat and peas, while I followed the
hounds ; and have returned home at dark-night, with my legs
full of thorns and my belly empty to go supperless to bed, and to
congratulate myself if I escaped a flogging. I was sure of these
consequences ; but that had not the smallest effect in restraining
me. All the lectures, all the threats, vanished from niy mind in a
moment upon hearing the first cry of the hounds, at which my
heart used to be ready to bound out of my body. I remembered
all this. I traced to this taste my contempt for card-playing and
for all childish and effeminate amusements. And, therefore, I
resolved to leave the same course freely open to my sons. This
is my plan of education : others may follow what plan they please.

376. This Chapter will be a head without a body ; for, it will
not require much time to give an account of the rural sports in
America. The general taste of the country is to kill the things
in order to have them to eat, which latter forms no part of the
sportsman's objects.

377. There cannot be said to be any thing here, which we, in
England, call hunting. The deer are hunted by dogs, indeed,
but the hunters do not follow. They are posted at their several
stations to shoot the deer as he passes. This is only one remove
from the Indian hunting. I never saw, that I know of, any man
that had seen a pack of hounds in America, except those kept by
old JOHN BROWN, in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, who was the
only hunting Quaker that I ever heard of, and who was grandfather
of the famous General Brown. In short, there is none of what we
call hunting ; or, so little, that no man can expect to meet with it.

378. No {qoursingj I never saw a greyhound here. Indeed,
there are no nfires that have the same manners that ours have, or
any thing like their neetness. The woods, too, or some sort of
cover, except in the singular instance of the plains in this Island,
are too near at hand.

379. But, of shooting the variety is endless. Pheasants,
partridges, wood-cocks, snipes, grouse, wild-ducks of many
sorts, teal, plover, rabbits.

380. There is a disagreement between the North and the South
as to the naming of the two former. North of New Jersey the
pheasants are called partridges, and the partridges are called
quails. To the South of New Jersey, they are called by what I
think are their proper names, taking the English names of those
birds to be proper. For, pheasants do not remain in coveys :

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RURAL SPORTS

but, mix, like common fowls. The intercourse between the males
and females is promiscuous, and not by pairs, as in the case of
partridges. And these are the manners of the American
pheasants, which are found by ones, twos, and so on, and never
in families, except when young, when, like chickens, they keep
with the old hen. The American partridges are not quails :
because quails are gregarious. They keep in flocks, like rooks
(called crows in America), or like larks, or starlings : of which the
reader will remember a remarkable instance in the history of the
migration of those grumbling vagabonds, the Jews, soon after their
march from HOREB, when the quails came and settled upon each
other's backs to a height of two cubits, and covered a superficial
space of two days' journey in diameter. It is a well known fact,
that quails flock ; it is also well known, that partridges do not, but
that they keep in distinct families, which we call coveys from the
French couvee, which means the eggs or brood which a hen covers
at one time. The American partridges live in coveys. The
cock and her pair in the spring. They have their brood by sitting
alternately on the eggs, just as the English partridges do ; the
young ones, if none are killed, or die, remain with the old ones
till spring ; the covey always live within a small distance of the
same spot ; if frightened into a state of separation, they call
to each other and re-assemble ; they roost all together in a round
ring, as close as they can sit, the tails inward and the heads out
ward ; and are, in short, in all their manners, precisely the same
as the English partridge, with this exception, that they will some
times alight on a rail or a bough, and that, when the hen sits, the
cock, perched at a little distance, makes a sort of periodical whistle
in a monotonous, but very soft and sweet tone.

381. The size of the pheasant is about the half of that of the
English. The plumage is by no means so beautiful ; but, the
flesh is far more delicate. The size of the partridge bears about
the same proportion. But its plumage is more beautiful than
that of the English, and its flesh is more delicate. Both are
delightful, thought rather difficult, shooting. The pheasant does
not tower, but darts through the trees ; and the partridge does not
rise boldly, but darts away at no great height from the ground.
Some years they are more abundant than other years. This is
an abundant year. There are, perhaps, fifty coveys within half a
mile of my house.

382 The wood-cocks are, in all respects, like those in England,
except that they are only about three-fifths of the size. They
breed here ; and are in such numbers, that some men kill twenty
brace, or more in a day. Their haunts are in marshy places, or
woods. The shooting of them lasts from the fourth of July till
the hardish frosts come. The last we killed this year was killed
on the 2ist of November. So that here areflve months of this sport,
and pheasants and partridges are shot from September to April.

383. The snipes are called English snipes, which they resemble

RURAL SPORTS

in all respects, and are found in great abundance in the usual
haunts of snipes.

384. The grouse is precisely like the Scotch grouse. There is
only here and there a place where they are found. But, they are,
in those places, killed in great quantities in the fall of the year.

385. As to wild ducks and other water- fowl, which are come at
by lying in wait, and killed most frequently swimming, or sitting,
they are slaughtered in whole flocks. An American counts the
cost of powder and shot. If he is deliberate in every thing else,
this habit will hardly forsake him in the act of shooting. When
the sentimental flesh- eaters hear the report of his gun, they may
begin to pull out their white handkerchiefs ; for death follows
his pull of the trigger, with perhaps, even more certainty than
it used to follow the lancet of DOCTOR RUSH. •

386. The PLOVER is a fine bird, and is found in great numbers
upon the plains, and in the cultivated fields, of this Island, and
at a mile from my house. Plovers are very shy and wary : but
they have ingenious enemies to deal with. A waggon, or carriage
of some sort, is made use of to approach them ; and then they are
easily killed.

387. Rabbits are very abundant in some places. They are
killed by shooting ; for all here is done with the gun. No reliance
is placed upon a dog.

388. As to game-laws there are none, except those which appoint
the times for killing. People go where they like, and, as to wild
animals, shoot what they like. There is the Common Law,
which forbids trespass, and the Statute Law, I believe, of
" malicious trespass," or trespass after warning. And these are
more than enough ; for nobody, that I ever hear of, warns people
off. So that, as far as shooting goes, and that is the sport which
is the most general favourite, there never was a more delightful
country than this Island. The sky is so fair, the soil so dry,
the cover so convenient, the game so abundant, and the people,
go where you will, so civil, hospitable, and kind.

CHAPTER XIII.

PAUPERS.

389. IT is a subject of great exultation in the hireling newspapers
of the Borough- villains, that "poverty and poor-rates have found
" their way to America." As to the former it is literally true ;
for the poverty that is here has, almost the whole of it, come from
Europe : but, the means of keeping the poor arise here upon the
spot.

390. Great sums of money are raised in New York, Philadelphia,
Boston, and other great sea-ports, for the maintenance of " the
poor " : and, the Boroughmongers eagerly catch at the published
accounts of this concern, and produce them as proofs, that misery
is as great in America as it is under their iron rod. I will strip
them of this pretext in a few minutes.

391. Let us take New York, for instance. It is notorious that,
whatever may be the number of persons relieved by poor rates,
the greater part of them are Europeans, who have come hither, at
different periods and under circumstances of distress, different,
of course, in degree. There is, besides, a class of persons here of
a description very peculiar ; namely ; the free negroes. What
ever may have been the motives, which led to their emancipation,
it is very certain, that it has saddled the white people with a charge.
These negroes are a disorderly, improvident set of beings ; and
the paupers, in the country, consist almost zvholly of them. Take
out the foreigners and the negroes, and you will find, that the
paupers of New York do not amount to a hundredth part of those
of Liverpool, Bristol, Birmingham, or London, population for
population. New York is a sea-port, and the only great sea-port
of a large district of country. All the disorderly crowd to it.
It teems with emigrants ; but, even there, a pauper, who is a
white, native American, is a great rarity.

392. But, do the Borough- villains think, that the word pauper
has the same meaning here that it has under their scorpion rod ?
A pauper under them means a man that is able and ivilling to work,
and who does zvork like a horse : and who is so taxed, has so much
of his earnings taken from him by them to pay the interest of their
Debt and the pensions of themselves and their wives, children, and
dependents, that he is actually starving and fainting at his work.

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PAUPERS

This is what is meant by a pauper in England. But, at New York,
a pauper is, generally, a man who is unable, or, which is more
frequently the case, unwilling to work ; who is become debilitated
from a vicious life ; or, who, like Boroughmongers and Priests,
finds it more pleasant to live upon the labour of others than upon
his own labour. A pauper in England is fed upon bones, garbage,
refuse meat, and " substitutes for bread" A pauper here expects,
and has, as much flesh, fish and bread and cake as he can devour.
How gladly would many a little tradesman, or even little farmer,
in England, exchange his diet for that of a New York pauper I

303. Where there are such paupers as those in England, there
are beggars : because, when they find, that they are nearly starved
in the former character, they will try the latter in spite of all the
vagrant acts that any hell-born Funding system can engender.
And, who ever saw a beggar in America ? "I have ! " exclaims
some spye of the Boroughmongers, who hopes to become a
Boroughmonger himself. And so have I too. I have seen a
couple since I have been on this Island ; and of them I will speak
presently. But there are different sorts of beggars too as well as
of paupers. In England a beggar is a poor creature, with hardly
rags (mere rags) sufficient to cover its nakedness, so far even as
common decency requires. A wretched mortal, the bare sight
of whom would freeze the soul of an American within him. A
dejected, broken down thing, that approaches you bare-headed,
on one knee, with a trembling voice, with " pray bestow your
" charity, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake have compassion on a
" poor soul " ; and, if you toss a halfpenny into his ragged hat,
he exclaims in an extacy, " God Almighty bless your honour ! "
though you, perhaps, be but a shoe-black yourself. An American
beggar, dressed very much like other people, walks up to you as
boldly as if his pockets were crammed with money, and, with a
half smile, that seems to say, he doubts of the propriety of his
conduct, very civilly asks you, if you can HELP him to a quarter
of a dollar. He mostly states the precise sum ; and never sinks
below silver. In short, there is no begging , properly so called.
There is nothing that resembles English begging even in the
most distant degree.

394. I have now been here twenty months, and I have been
visited by only two beggars. The first was an Englishman, and
what was more to me, a Surrey man too ; a native of Croydon.
He asked me if I could help him to a quarter of a dollar ; for, it is
surprising how apt scholars they are. " Yes," said I, " if you
" will help my men to do some work first." He said he could not
do that, for he was in a hurry. I told him, that, if a man, with a
dollar a day, and pork for the tenth part of a dollar a pound, could
not earn his living, he ought to be hanged ; " however," said I,
" as you are the first Surrey man I ever saw in America besides
<c myself, if you be not hanged before this day week, and come here
" again, I will help you to a quarter of a dollar." He came, and

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PAUPERS

I kept my word. The second beggar was an Italian. This was
a personage of " high consideration." He was introduced to the
side of my writing table. He behaved with a sort of dignified
politeness, mixed with somewhat of reserve, as if he thought the
person to whom he wras addressing himself a very good sort of
man, but of rank inferior to himself. We could not understand
each other at first ; but, we got into French, and then we could
talk. He having laid down his hat, and being seated, pulled out
a large parcel of papers, amongst which was a certificate from the
Secretary of State of His Majesty the King of Sardinia, duly signed
and countersigned, and sealed with a seal having the armorial
bearings of that sovereign. Along with this respectable paper
was an English translation of it, done at New York, and authen
ticated by the Mayor and a Notary Public, with all due formality.
All the time these papers were opening, I was wondering what this
gentleman could be. I read, and stared, and read again. I was
struck not less by the novelty than the audacity of the thing.
" So then," said I, breaking silence, " your sovereign, after taxing
" you to your ruin, has been graciously pleased to give you
" credentials to show, that he authorizes you to beg in America ;
" and, not only for yourself but for others : so that you are an
" accredited ambassador from the beggars in Sardinia ! " He
found he was got into wrong hands ; and endeavoured to put an
end to the negociation at once, by observing, that I was not forced
to give, and that my simple negative was enough. " I beg your
" pardon, Sir," said I, " you have submitted your case to me ;
" you have made an appeal to me ; your statement contains
" reasons for my giving ; and that gives me a right to shew, if v
" I can, why I ought not to give." He then, in order to pievent*
all reasoning, opened his Subscription, or Begging-book, and said :
" you see, Sir, others give ! " " Now," said I, " you reason, but
" your reasoning is defective : for, if you were to shew me, that
" you had robbed all my neighbours without their resenting it,
" would it follow that I must let you rob me too ? " " A h ! par
" bleu," said he, snatching up his credentials, " je vois que vous
" Btes un avare." Ah I by Old Nick, I see you are a Miser. — And
off he went ; not, however, before I had had time to tell him to be
sure to give my best respects to the king of Sardinia, and to tell
His Majesty to keep his beggars at home.

395. I afterwards found, that cases like this are by no means
rare ; and that, in Pennsylvania, in particular, they have accredited
beggars from all parts of the continent of Europe. This may be
no unuseful hint for the English Boroughrnongers, who have an
undoubted claim to precedence before the German and Italian
beggars. The Boroughmongers may easily add a legation of
mendicity to their Envoyships and Consulships, without any
great disgrace to the latter ; and, since they can get nothing out
of America by bullying and attacking, try what can be gained by
canting and begging. The chances are, however, that many of

170

PAUPERS

them will, before they die, be beggars in their own proper persons
and for their own use and behoof ; and thus give a complete
rounding to their career ; plunderers in prosperity, and beggars
in adversity.

396. As to the poor-rates, the real poor-rates, you must look to
the country. In England the poor-rates equal in amount the rent
of the land / Here, I pay, in poor-rates, only seven dollars upon
a rent of six hundred ! And I pay rny full share. In short, how
is it possible, that there should be paupers to any amount, where
the common average wages of a labourer are six dollars a week ;
that is to say, twenty-seven shillings sterling, and where the
necessaries of life are, upon an average, of half the price that they
are in England ? How can a man be a pauper, where he can earn
ten pounds of prime hog-meat a day, six days in every week ?
I was at a horse-race, where I saw at least five thousand men, and
not one man in shabby clothes.

397. But, some go back after they come from England ; and the
Consul at New York has thousands of applications from men
who want to go to Canada : and little bands of them go off to that
fine country very often. These are said to be disappointed people.
Yes, they expected the people at New York to come out in boats,
I suppose, carry them on shore, and give up their dinners and beds
to them ! If they will work, they will soon find beds and .dinners :
if they will not, they ought to have none. What, did they expect
to find here the same faces and the same posts and trees that they
left behind them ? Such foolish people are not worth notice.
The lazy, whether male or female, all hate a government, under
which every one enjoys his earnings, and no more. Low, poor
and miserable as they may be, their principle is precisely the same
as that of Boroughmongers and Priests : namely, to live without
labour on the earnings of others. The desire to live thus is almost
universal ; but with sluggards, thieves, Boroughmongers, and
Priests, it is a principle of action. Ask a Priest why he is a Priest.
He will say (for he has vowed it on the Altar !) that he believes
himself called by the Holy Ghost to take on him the care of souls.
But, put the thing close to him ; push him hard ; and you will
find it was the benefice, the money and the tithes, that called him.
Ask him what he wanted them for. That he might live, and live,
too, without work. Oh ! this work ! It is an old saying, that, if
the Devil find a fellow idle, he is sure to set him to work ; a saying
the truth of which the Priests seem to have done their utmostfto
establish.

398. Of the goers back was a Mr. ONSLOW WAKEFORD, who was
a coach-maker, some years, in Philadelphia, and who, having,
from nothing hardly to begin with, made a comfortable fortune,
went back about the time that I returned home. I met him, by
accident, at Goodwood, in Sussex, in 1814. We talked about
America. Said he, " I have often thought of the foolish way,
<( in which my good friend, NORTH, and I used to talk about the

171

PAUPERS

" happy state of England. The money that I have paid in taxes
" here, would have kept me like a gentleman there. Why," added
he, " if a labouring man here were seen having in his possession,
" the fowls and other things that labourers in Philadelphia carry
" home from market, he would be stepped in the street, and taken
"up on suspicion of being a thief : upon the supposition of its
" being impossible that he could have come honestly by them." I
told this story after I got home ; and we read in the news-papers,
not long afterwards, that a Scotch Porter, in London, who had had
a little tub of butter sent him up from his relations, and who was,
in the evening, carrying it from the vessel to his home, had actually
been seized by the Police, lodged in prison all night, brought
before the magistrate the next day, and not released until he had
produced witnesses to prove that he had not stolen a thing, which
teas thought far too valuable for such a man to come at by honest
means ! What a state of things must that be ? What ! A man
in England taken up as a thief and crammed into prison, merely
because he was in possession of 20 pounds of butter !

399. Mr. WAKEFORD is, I dare say, alive. He is a very worthy
man. He lives at CHICHESTER. I appeal to him for the truth of
the anecdote relating to him. As to the butter story, I cannot name
the precise date : but, I seriously declare the fact to have been as
I have related it. I told Mr. WAKEFORD, who is a very quiet man,
that, in order to make his lot in England as good as it was in
America, he must help us to destroy the Boroughmongers. He
left America, he told me, principally in consequence of the loss
of his daughter (an only child) at Philadelphia, where she, amongst
hundreds and hundreds of others, fell before the desolating
lancets of 1797, 1798 and 1799.

172

CHAPTER XIV.

GOVERNMENT, LAWS, AND RELIGION.

400. MR. PROFESSOR CHRISTIAN, who has written great piles of
Notes on Blackstone's Commentaries, and whose Notes differ from
those of the Note-writers on the Bible, in this, that the latter only
tend to add darkness to that which was sufficiently dark before,
while the Professor's Notes, in every instance, without a single
exception, labour most arduously, and not always without success,
to render that obscure, which was before clear as the sun now is
in Long Island, on this most beautiful fifth of December, 1818 :
this Professor, who, I believe, is now a Judge, has, in his Note
126 on Book I, drawn what he calls " a distinction " between
Political and Civil Liberty, which distinction contains as to ideas,
manner, and expressions, a complete specimen of what, in such a
case, a writer ought to avoid.

401. Leaving definitions of this sort to such conceited bunglers
as the Professor, I will just give a sketch (for it can be nothing
more) of the Government and Laws of this country.

402. The country is divided into States. Each of these States
has its own separate government, consisting of a Governor,
Legislative Body, and Judiciary Department. But, then there is
a General Government, which is, in fact, the government of the
whole nation : for, it alone can do any thing with regard to other
nations. This General Government consists of a President,
a Senate, a House of Representatives, all which together are called
the Congress. The President is elected for four years, the Senate
for four years, and the House of Representatives for two years.

403. In most of the State-Governments, the election is annual
for the House of Representatives. In some the Governor and the
Senate are elected for a longer period, not exceeding four years
in any case. But, in some, the whole, Governor, Senate, and
Representatives, are elected ANNUALLY ; and this last appears
now to be the prevailing taste.

404. The suffrage, or qualification of electors, is very various.
In some States every free man ; that is, every man who is not
bondman or slave, has a vote. In others, the payment of a tax
is required. In others, a man must be worth a hundred pounds.
In Virginia a man must be a freeholder.

N 173

GOPERNMENf, LAWS,

405. This may serve to show how little Mr. JERRY BENTHAM,
the new Mentor of the Westminster Telemachus, knows about
the political part of the American governments. Jerry, whose
great, and, indeed, only argument, in support of annual parlia
ments and universal suffrage, is, that America is so happy under
such a system, has, if we were to own him, furnished our enemies
with a complete answer ; for, they have, in order to silence him,
only to refer to the facts of his argument of happy experience.
By silencing him, however, I do not mean, the stopping of his
tongue, or pen ; for nothing but mortality will ever do that.
This everlasting babbler has aimed a sort of stiletto stroke at me ;
for what God knows, except it be to act a consistent part, by
endeavouring to murder the man whom he has so frequently
robbed, and whose facts and thoughts, though disguised and
disgraced by the robber's quaint phraseology, constitute the better
part of his book. Jerry, who was made a Reformer by PITT'S
refusal to give him a contract to build a penitentiary , and to make him
prime administrator of penance, that is to say, Beggar- Whipper
General, is a very proper person to be toasted by those, who have
plotted and conspired against Major Cartwright. Mr. Brougham
praises Jerry : that is enough !

406. In the four New England States, the qualification was a
hundred pounds. But, one of those States, CONNECTICUT, has,
to her great honour, recently set an example worthy of the imitation
of the other three. A new constitution has, during this year, been
formed in that State, according to which all the elections are to be
annual : and, as to the suffrage, I will give it in the words of the
instrument itself : " Every male white citizen of the United

States, who shall have gained a settlement in this state, attained
the age of twenty-one years, and resided in the town [that is
parish in the English meaning] in which he may offer himself
to be admitted to the privilege of being an elector, at least six
months preceding, and have a freehold estate of the yearly value
of seven dollars in this State : — OR, having been enrolled in
the militia, shall have performed military duty therein for the
term of one year, next preceding the time he shall offer himself
for admission, or, being liable thereto, shall have been, by
authority of law, altogether excused therefrom ; — OR, shall
have paid a State Tax within the year next preceding the time
he shall present himself for admission, and shall sustain a good
moral character, shall, on his taking the oath prescribed, be
an elector."

407. And then, the proof of bad moral character, is, "a con
viction of bribery, forgery, perjury, duelling, fraudulent bank
ruptcy, theft, or other offences, for which an infamous punish
ment is inflicted." By forgery is not, of course, contemplated

pujfenti forgery ; for that, as an act of resistance of oppression, is
fully justifiable . it is not only not an immoral, but it is a meri
torious act. The forgery here meant is forgery committed against

'74

AND RELIGION

honest men, who, when they " promise to pay," mean to pay, and
do pay when called upon. " Bribery " is very properly set at the \
head of the disqualifications ; but, what a nest of villains it would ;
exclude in England ! White men are mentioned, but, another (
clause, admits all the Blacks now free, though it shuts out future
comers of that colour, or of the yellow hue ; which is jp£rfectjy_
JUSlJ, foj, Connecticut is not to be the receptacle oTthose, whom
.other States may cKbose to release" from slavery, seeing that she
has now no slaves of her own.

' 408. Thus, then, this new Constitution ; a constitution formed
by the steadiest community in the whole world ; a constitution
dictated by the most ample experience, gives to the people, as to the
three branches of the government (the Governor, Senate, and
Representatives} precisely what we reformers in England ask as to
only one branch out of the three. Whoever has a freehold worth
a guinea and a half a year, though he pay no tax, and though he
be not enrolled in the militia, has a vote. Whoever pays a tax,
though he be not enrolled in the militia, and have no freehold,
has a vote. Whoever is enrolled in the militia, though he have
no freehold and pay no tax, has >a " vote... ASp that nothing but
beggars, paupers, and criminals/ean easily be excluded ; and, you
will observe, if you please, Messieurs Boroughmongers, that the
State taxes are all direct, and so contemptible in amount, as not
to be, all taken together, enough to satisfy the maw of a single
sinecure place-man in England ; and that the Electors choose,
and annually too, King, Lords, and Commons. Now, mind, this
change has been deliberately made by the most deliberate people
that ever lived on the earth. New England is called, and truly,
" the Land of Steady Habits " ; but, a Connecticut man is said
to be a " full-blooded Yankey," and Yankey means New Englander.
So that, here are the steadiest of the steady adopting, after all their
usual deliberation and precaution, in a time of profound tran
quillity, and without any party spirit or delusion, the plan of us
*' wild and mad " Reformers of Old England. Please God, I will,
before I go home, perform a pilgrimage into this State !

409. In Virginia, and the States where negro slavery exists, the
slaves are reckoned amongst the population in apportioning the seats
in the General Congress. So that, the slaves do not vote ; but,
their owners have votes for the~n* This is what Davis Giddy,
Wilberforce, and the Spawn of the Green Room, call virtual
representation. And this, to be sure, is what Sir FRANCIS
BURDETT, in his speech at the Reading Dinner, meant by universal
INTERESTS ! From universal suffrage, he came down to
general suffrage ; this was only nonsense : but, universal IN
TERESTS is downright borough-mongering. Well may he
despair of doing any good in the House of Commons ! " Universal
interests " is the Virginian plan ; and, in that state of things, by no
means unwise or unjust ; for, it is easier to talk about freeing black
^slaves, then it is to do it. The planters in the Southern States are

I7S

GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

not to blame for having slaves, until some man will show how
they are to get rid of them. No one has yet discovered the means.
Virtual representation, or, in other words, Universal interests.
is as good a thing as any one can devise for those States ; and, if
SIR FRANCIS will but boldly declare, that the people of England
must necessarily remain slaves, his joining of Davis Giddy and
Canning, will be very consistent. Let him black the skins of the
people of England, and honestly call a part of them his property,
and then he will not add the meanest to the most dastardly
apostacy.

410. The right of suffrage in America is, however, upon the
whole, sufficient to guard the people against any general and long-
existing abuse of power ; for, let it be borne in mind, that here
the people elect all the persons, who are to exercise power ; while,
even if our Reform were obtained, there would still be two branches
out of the three, over whom the people would have no direct
control. Besides, in England, Ireland, and Scotland, there is

^reestablished Church : a richly endowed and powerful hierarchy ;
and this, which is really a fourth branch of the government, has
nothing to resemble it in America. So that, in this country,
the whole of the Government may be truly said to be in the hands
of the people. The people are, in reality as well as in name,

^represented.

411. The consequences of this are, ist, that, if those who are
chosen do not behave well, they are not chosen a second time : 2nd,
that there are no sinecure placemen and place women, grantees,
pensioners without services, and big placemen who swallow the
earnings of two or three thousand men each ; 3rd, that there is no
military staff to devour more than the whole of a government
ought to cost ; 4tfty that there are no proud and insolent grasping
Boroughmongers, who make the people toil and sweat to keep
them and their families in luxury > 5th, that seats in the Congress
are not like stalls in Smithlield, bought and sold, or hired out ;
£tlffthat the Members of Congress do not sell their votes at so
much a vote ; 7^kf that there is no waste of the public money, and
no expenses occasioned by the bribing of electors, or by the hiring
of Spies and informers ; 8th, that there are no shootings of the
people, and no legal murders committed, in order to defend the
government against the just vengeance of an oppressed and
insulted nation. But, all is harmony, peace and prosperity.
.Every man is zealous in defence of the laws, because every man
4cnows that he is governed by laws, to which he has really and

truly given his assent.

412. As to the nature of the Laws, the Common Law of England
is the Common Law of America. These States were formerly
Colonies of England. Our Boroughmongers wished to tax them
without their own consent. But, the Colonies, standing upon the
ancient Laws of England, which say that no man shall be taxed
without his own consent, resisted the Boroughmongers of that day ;

AND RELIGION

overcame them in war ; cast off all dependence, and became free
and independent States. But, the great men, who conducted
that Revolution, as well as the people in general, were too wise to
cast off the excellent laws of their forefathers. They, therefore,
declared, that the Common Law of England should remain, being
subject to such modifications as might be necessary in the new . .
circumstances in which the people were placed. The Common
Law means, the ancient and ordinary usages and customs of the land
with regard to the means of protecting property and persons and of
punishing crimes. This law is no written or printed thing. It is
more ancient than books. It had its origin in the hearts of our
forefathers, and it has lived in the hearts of their sons, from
generation to generation. Hence it is emphatically called the
Law of the Land. Juries, Judges, Courts of Justice, Sheriffs,
Constables, Head-boroughs, Heywards, Justices of the Peace
and all their numerous and useful powers and authorities, make
part of this Law of the Land. The Boroughmongers would fain
persuade us, that it is they who have given us this Law, out of pure
generosity. But, we should bear in mind, that this Law is more
ancient, and far more ancient, than the titles of even the most
ancient of their families. And, accordingly, when the present
Royal Family were placed upon the throne, there was a solemn
declaration by the Parliament in these words : " The Laws of
" England are the Birthright of the People of England." The
Boroughmongers, by giving new powers to Justices of the Peace
and Judges, setting aside the trial by Jury in many cases, both of
property and person, even before the present horrible acts ; and
by a thousand other means, have, by Acts of Parliament, greatly ^,
despoiled us of the Law of the Land : but, never have they given
us any one good in addition to it. X

413. The Americans have taken special care to prevent the like
encroachments on their rights : so that, while they have Courts of
Justice, Juries, Judges, Sheriffs, and the rest, as we have ; while
they have all ihe^good part of the Laws now in force in England,
they have none of the bad. They have none of that Statute
Law of England, or Act of Parliament Law, which has robbed us
of a great part, and the best part of our " Birthright."

414. It is, as I said before, not my intention to go much into
particulars here ; but, I cannot refrain from noticing, that the
People of America, when they come to settle their new govern
ments, took special care to draw up specific Constitutions, in which
they forbade any of their future law-makers to allow of any Titles
of Nobility, any Privileged Class, any Established Church, or, to
pass any law to give to any body the power of imprisoning men
otherwise than in due course of Common Law, except in cases of
actual invasion or open rebellion. And, though actual invasion
took place several times during the late war ; though the Capital
city was in possession of our troops, no such law was passed.

177

LAWS,

Such is the effect of that confidence, which a good and just govern
ment has in the people whom it governs 1

415. There is one more particular, as to the Laws of America,
on which, as it is of very great importance, I think it right to
remark. The uses, which have been made of the Law of Libel in
England are well known. In the first place, the Common Law
knows of no such offence as that of criminal libel, for which so
many men have been so cruelly punished in England. The crime
is an invention of late date. The Common Law punished men
for breaches of the peace, but no words, whether written or spoken,
can be a breach of the peace. But, then some Boroughmonger
judges said, that words might tend to produce a breach of the peace ;
and that, therefore, it was criminal to use such words. This,
though a palpable stretch of law, did, however, by usage, become
law so far as to be acted upon in America as well as in England ;
and, when I lived in the State of PENNSYLVANIA, eighteen years
ago, the Chief Justice of that State, finding even this law not
sufficiently large, gave it another stretch to make it fit me.
Whether the Legislature of that State will repair this act of
injustice and tyranny remains yet to be seen.

416. The State of NEW YORK, in which I now live, awakened,
probably by the act of tyranny, to which I allude, has taken care,
by an Act of the State, passed in 1805, to put an end to those
attacks on the press by charges of constructive libel, or, at least, to
make the law such, that no man shall suffer from the preferring
of any such charges unjustly.

417. The principal effect of this twisting of the law was, that,
whether the words published were true or false the crime of pub
lishing was the same : because, whether true or false, they tended
to a breach of the peace ! Nay, there was a Boroughmonger Judge
in England, who had laid it down as law, that the truer the words
were, the more criminal was the libel ; because, said he, a breach
of the peace was more likely to be produced by telling truth of a
villain, than by telling falsehood of a virtuous man. In point of
fact, this was true enough, to be sure ; but what an infamous
doctrine ! What a base, what an unjust mind must this man
have had !

418. The State of New York, ashamed that there should any
longer be room for such miserable quibbling ; ashamed to leave
the Liberty of the Press exposed to the changes and chances of a
doctrine so hostile to common sense as well as to every principle
of freedom, passed an Act, which makes the truth of any pub
lication a justification of it, provided the publisher can shew, that
the publication was made with good motives and justifiable ends :
and who can possibly publish truth without being able to shew
good motives and justifiable ends ? To expose and censure
tyranny, profligacy, fraud, hypocrisy, debauchery, drunkenness :
indeed, all sorts of wickedness and folly ; and to do this in the
words of truth, must tend, cannot fail to tend, to check wickedness

178

AND RELIGION

and folly, and to strengthen and promote virtue and wisdom ;
and these only, are the uses of the press. I know it has been said,
for I have heard it said, that this is going too far : that it would
tend to lay open the private affairs of families. And what then ?
Wickedness and folly should meet their due measure of censure,
or ridicule, be they found where they may. If the faults of private
persons were too trifling to deserve public notice, the mention of
them would give the parties no pain, and the publisher would be
despised for his tittle-tattle ; that is all. And, if they were of a
nature so grave as for the exposure of them to give the parties
pain, the exposure would be useful, as a warning to others.

419. Amongst the persons whom I have heard express a wish,
to see the press what they called free, and at the same time to
extend the restraints on it, with regard to persons in their private
life, beyond the obligation of adherence to truth, I have never, that
I know of, met with one, who had not some powerful motive of
his own for the wish, and who did not feel that he had some
vulnerable part about himself. The common observation of
these persons, is, that public men are fair game. Why public men
only ? Is it because their wickedness and folly affect the public ?
And, how long has it been, I should be glad to know, since bad
example in private life has been thought of no consequence to the
public ? The press is called " the guardian of the public morals " .*
but, if it is to meddle with none of the vices or follies of individuals
in private life, how is it to act as the guardian of the morals of the
whole community ? A press perfectly free, reaches these vices,
which the law cannot reach without putting too much power into
the hands of the magistrate. Extinguish the press, and you must
let the magistrate into every private house. The experience of the
world suggests this remark ; for, look where you will, you will see
virtue in all the walks of life hand in hand with freedom of dis
cussion, and vice hand in hand with censorships and other laws
to cramp the press. England, once so free, so virtuous and so
happy, has seen misery and crimes increase and the criminal laws
multiply in the exact proportion of the increase of the restraints
on the press and of the increase of the severity in punishing what
are called libels. And, if this had not taken place it would have
been very wonderful. Men who have the handling of the public
money, and who know that the parliament is such as to be silenced,
will be very apt to squander that money ; this squandering causes
heavy taxes ; these produce misery amongst the greater number of
the people ; this misery produces crimes ; to check these new
penal laws are passed. Thus it is in England, where new hanging
places, new and enlarged jails, prisons on the water, new modes of
transporting, a new species of peace officers, a new species of
Justices of the Peace, troops employed regularly in aid of the
magistrate, and at last, spies and blood-money bands, all proclaim
a real revolution in the nature of the government. If the press
had continued free, these sad effects of a waste of the public money

179

GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

never could have taken place ; for, the wasters of that money
would have been so exposed as to be unable to live under the
odium which the exposure would have occasioned ; and, if the
parliament had not checked the waste and punished the wasters,
the public indignation would have destroyed the parliament.
But, with a muzzled press, the wasters proceeded with the
consciousness of impunity. Say to any individual man when he
is 20 years of age : " You shall do just what you please with all
" the money of other people that you can, by any means, all your
" life long, get into your hands, and no one shall ever be permitted
" to make you accountable, or even to write or speak a word
" against you for any act of fraud, oppression, or waste." Should
you expect such an individual to act honestly and wisely ? Yet,
this, in fact, is what a Boroughmonger Parliament and the new
Law of Libel say to every set of Ministers.

420. Before I quit this subject of Libel, let me observe, however,
that no juryman, even as the law now stands in England, is in
conscience bound to find any man guilty on a charge of criminal
libel, unless the evidence prove that the pretended libeller has been
actuated by an evil motive, and unless it be also proved by evidence,
that his words, spoken or written, were scandalous and malicious.
Unless these things be clearly proved by evidence, the juryman,
who finds a man guilty, is a base, perjured villain : and ought to be
punished as such.

421. The State of Connecticut, in her new Constitution, before
mentioned, has put this matter of libel on the true footing ;
namely ; " In all prosecutions and indictments for libel the
" TRUTH may be given in evidence, and the Jury shall have the
" right to determine the law and the facts." Thus, then, common
sense has, at last, got the better ; and TRUTH can, in this State,
at least, in no case, be a legal crime. But, indeed, the press has
NOW no restraint in America, other than that imposed by
TRUTH. . Men publish what they please, so long as they do
not publish falsehood s : and, even in such cases, they are generally
punished by the public contempt. The press is, therefore, taken
altogether, what the magistrate always ought to be : " # terror to
evil doers, and a reward to those who do zvell." But, it is not the
name of REPUBLIC that secures these, or any other of the
blessings of freedom. As gross acts of tyranny may be committed,
and as base corruption practised, under that name as under the
name of absolute monarchy. And, it becomes the people of
America to guard their minds against ever being, in any case,
amused with names. It is the fair representation of the people that
is the cause of all the good ; and, if this be obtained, I, for my
part, will never quarrel with any body about names.

422. Taxes and Priests : for these always lay on heavily together.
On the subject of taxes, I have, perhaps, spoken sufficiently clear
before ; but, it is a great subject. I will, on these subjects, address
myself more immediately to my old neighbours of Botley, and

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endeavour to make them understand, what America is as to taxes
and priests.

423. Worried, my old neighbours, as you are by tax-gatherers of
all descriptions from the County-Collector, who rides in his
coach and four down to the petty Window-Peeper, the little
miserable spy, who is constantly on the look out for you, as if he
were a thief-catcher and you were thieves ; devoured as you are
by these vermin, big and little, you will with difficulty form an
idea of the state of America in this respect. It is a state of such
blessedness, when compared with the state of things in England,
that I despair of being able to make you fully comprehend what
it is. Here a man may make new windows, or shut up old
windows, as often as he pleases, without being compelled under a
penalty to give notice to some insolent tax-gathering spy. Here
he may keep as many horses as he likes, he may ride them or drive
them at his pleasure, he may sell them or keep them, he may lend
them or breed from them ; he may, as far as their nature allows,
do the same with regard to his dogs ; he may employ his servants
in his house, in his stables, in his garden, or in his fields, just as
he pleases ; he may, if he be foolish enough, have armorial
bearings on his carriage, his watch-seals, on his plate, and, if he
likes, on his very buckets and porridge pots ; he may write his
receipts, his bills, his leases, his bonds, and deeds upon unstamped
paper ; his wife and daughters may wear French gloves and Lace
and French and India silks ; he may purchase or sell lands and
may sue at law for his rights : and all these, and a hundred other
things, without any dread of the interloping and insolent inter
ference of a tax-gatherer or spy of any description. Lastly, when
he dies, he can bequeath his money and goods and houses and
lands to whomsoever he pleases ; and he can close his eyes without
curses in his heart against a rapacious band of placemen,
pensioners, grantees, sinecure holders, staff-officers, borough-
jobbers, and blood-money spies, who stand ready to take from
his friends, his relations, his widow, and his children, a large
part of what he leaves, under the name of a tax upon legacies.

424. But, you will ask, " are there no taxes in America ? "
Yes ; and taxes, or public contributions of some sort, there must
be in every civilized state ; otherwise government could not exist,
and without government there could be no security for properly
or j)crs.axs? The taxes in America consist principally of custom
duties imposed on goods imported into the country. During the late
war, there were taxes on several things in the country ; but, they
were taken off at the peace. In the cities and large towns, where
paving and lamps and drains and scavengers are necessary, there
are, of course, direct contributions to defray the expence of these.
There are also, of course, county rates and road rates. But, as
the money thus raised is employed for the immediate benefit of
those who pay, and is expended amongst themselves and under
their own immediate inspection, it does not partake of the nature

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GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

of a tax. The taxes or duties, on goods imported, yield a great
sum of money ; and, owing to the persons employed in the
collection being appointed for their integrity and ability, and not
on account of their connection with any set of bribing and corrupt
Boroughmongers, the whole of the money thus collected is fairly
applied to the public use, and is amply sufficient for all the pur
poses of government. The army, if it can be so called, costs but
a mere trifle. It consists of a few men, who are absolutely
necessary to keep forts from crumbling down, and guns from
rotting with rust. The navy is an object of care, and its support
and increase a cause of considerable expence. But the govern
ment, relying on the good sense and valour of a people, who must
hate or disregard themselves before they can hate or disregard
that which so manifestly promotes their own happiness, has no
need to expend much on any species of warlike preparations.
The government could not stand a week, if it were hated by the
people ; nor, indeed, ought it to stand an hour. It has the hearts
of the people with it, and, therefore, it need expend nothing in
blood-money, or in secret services of any kind. . Hence the cheap
ness of this government ; hence the small amount of the taxes ;
hence the ease and happiness of the People.

425. Great as the distance between you and me is, my old
neighbours, I very often think of you ; and especially when I
buy salt, which our neighbour Warner used to sell us for igs. a
bushel, and which I buy here for 2s. 6d. This salt is made, you
know, down somewhere by Hambel. This very salt ; when
brought here from England, has all the charges of freight, in
surance, wharfage, storage, to pay. It pays besides, one third of
its value in duty to the American Government before it be landed
here. Then, you will observe, there is the profit of the American
Salt Merchant, and then that of the shop-keeper who sells me the
salt. And, after all this, I buy that very Hampshire salt for as. 6d.
a bushel, English measure. What a government, then, must
that of the Boroughmongers be ! The salt is a gift of God. It
is thrown on the shore. And yet, these tyrants will not suffer
us to use it, until we have paid them 155. a bushel for liberty to use
it. They will not suffer us to use the salt, which God has sent
us, until we have given them 155. a bushel for them to bestow on
themselves, on their families and dependents, in the payment
of the interest of the Debt, which they have contracted, and in
paying those, whom they hire to shoot at us. Yes ; England is a
fine country ; it is a glorious country ; it contains an ingenious,
industrious, a brave and warm-hearted people ; but, it is now
disgraced and enslaved : it is trodden down by these tyrants ;
and we must free it. We cannot, and we will not die their slaves.

426. Salt is not the only one of the English articles that we buy
cheaper here than in England. Glass, for instance, we buy for
half the price that you buy it. The reason is, that you are com
pelled to pay a heavy tax, which is not paid by us for that same

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glass. It is the same as to almost every thing that comes from
England. You are compelled to pay the Boroughmongers a
heavy tax on your candles and soap. You dare not make candles
and soap, though you have the fat and the ashes in abundance.
If you attempt to do this, you are taken up and imprisoned ;
and, if you resist, soldiers are brought to shoot you. This is
freedom, is it ? Now, we, here, make our own candles and soap.
Farmers sometimes sell soap and candles ; but they never buy
any. A labouring man, or a mechanic, buys a sheep now and
then. Three or four days' work will buy a labourer a sheep to
weigh sixty pounds, with seven or eight pounds of loose fat.
The meat keeps very well, in winter, for a long time. The wool
makes stockings. And the loose fat is made into candles and
soap. The year before I left Hampshire, a poor woman at Holly
Hill had dipped some rushes in grease to use instead of candles.
An Exciseman found it out ; went and ransacked her house ;
and told her, that, if the rushes had had another dip, they would
have been candles, and she must have gone to jail ! Why, my
friends, if such a thing were told here, nobody would believe it.
The Americans could not bring their minds to believe, that
Englishmen would submit to such atrocious, such degrading
tyranny.

427. I have had living with me an Englishman, who smokes
tobacco ; and he tells me, that he can buy as much tobacco here
for three cents : that is, about three English half-pence, as he could
buy in England for three shillings. The leather has no tax on it
here ; so that, though the shoe-maker is paid a high price for his
labour, the labouring man gets his shoes very cheap. In short,
there is no excise here ; no property tax : no assessed taxes. We
have no such men here as Chiddel and Billy Toveiy to come and
take our money from us. No window peepers. No spies to
keep a look out as to our carriages and horses and dogs. Our
dogs that came from Botley now run about free from the spying
of tax-gatherers. We may wear hair-powder if we like without
paying for it, and a boy in our houses may whet our knives without
our paying two pounds a year for it.

428. But, then, we have not the honour of being covered over
with the dust, kicked up by the horses and raised by the carriage-
wheels of such men as Old GEORGE ROSE and OLD GARNIER, each
of whom has pocketted more than three hundred thousand pounds
of the public, that is to say, the people's, money. There are no
such men here. Those who receive public money here, do
something for it. They earn it. They are no richer than other
people. The Judges rTeTfe^sis^plain-dressed men. They go about
with no sort of parade. They are dressed, on the Bench, like other
men. The lawyers the same. Here are no black gowns and
scarlet gowns and big foolish-looking wigs. Yet, in the whole
world, there is not so well-behaved, so orderly, so steady a people ;
a people so obedient to the law. But, it is the law only that they will

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GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

bow to. They will bow to nothing else. And, they bow with
reverence to the law, because they know it to be just, and because
it is made by men, whom they have all had a hand in choosing.

429. And, then, think of the tithes ! I have talked to several
farmers here about the tithes in England ; and, they laugh.
They sometimes almost make me angry ; for they seem, at last,
not to believe what I say, when I tell them, that the English farmer
gives, and is compelled to give, the Parson a tenth part of his
whole crop and of his fruit and milk and eggs and calves and
lambs and pigs and wool and honey. They cannot believe this.
They treat it as a sort of romance. I sometimes almost wish them
to be farmers in England. I said to a neighbour the other day,
in half anger : " I wish your farm were at Botley. There is
" a fellow there, who would soon let you know, that your fine
" apple-trees do not belong to you. He would have his nose in
" your sheep-fold, your calf-pens, your milk-pail, your sow's-
" bed, if not in the sow herself. Your daughters would have no
" occasion to hunt out the hens' nests : he would do that for
" them." And then I gave him a proof of an English Parson's
vigilance by telling him the story of Baker's peeping out the name,
marked on the sack, which the old woman was wearing as a
petticoat. To another of my neighbours, who is very proud of
the circumstance of his grandfather being an Englishman, as,
indeed, most of the Americans are, who are descended from
Englishmen : to this neighbour I was telling the story about the
poor woman at Holly Hill, who had nearly dipped her rushes once
too often. He is a very grave and religious man. He looked very
seriously at me, and said, that falsehood was falsehood, whether
in jest or earnest. But, when I invited him to come to my house,
and told him, that I would show him the acts which the Borough-
men had made to put us in jail if we made our own soap 'and
candles, he was quite astonished. " What! " said he, " and is Old
" England really ^ come to this ! Is the land of our forefathers
" brought to this state of abject slavery ! Well, Mr. Cobbett,
" I confess, that I was always for king George, during our
" Revolutionary war ; but, I believe, all was for the best ; for,
" if I had had my wishes, he might have treated us as he now treats
" the people of England." " He ! " said I. " It is not he : he,
" poor man, does nothing to the people, and never has done any
" thing to the people. He has no power more than you have.
" None of his family have any. All put together, they have not a
" thousandth part so much as I have ; for I am able, though here,
" to annoy our tyrants, to make them less easy than they would
" be ; but, these tyrants care no more for the Royal Family than
" they do for so many posts or logs of wood." And then I
explained to him who and what the Boroughmongers were, and
how they oppressed us and the king too. I told him how they
disposed of the Church livings, and, in short, explained to him

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all their arts and all their cruelties. He was exceedingly shocked ;
but was glad, at any rate to know the truth.

430. When I was, last winter, in the neighbourhood of Harris-
burgh in Pennsylvania, I saw some hop -planters. They grow
prodigious quantities of hops. They are obliged to put their
hills so wide apart, that they can have only four hundred hills
upon an acre ; and yet they grow three thousand pounds of hops
upon an acre, with no manure and with once ploughing in the
year. When I told them about the price of hops in England and
about the difficulty of raising them, they were greatly surprised ;
but, what was their astonishment, when I told them about the
hop-poles of CHALCRAFT at Curbridge ! The hop is naturally a
weed in England as well as in America. Two or three vines had
come up out of Chalcraft's garden hedge, a few years ago.
Chalcraft put poles to them ; and, there might be a pound or
two of hops on these poles. Just before the time of gathering,
one of the spies called Excisemen called on Chalcraft and asked
him why he did not enter his hops. Chalcraft did not under
stand ; but, answered, he meant to take them in shortly, though
he did not think they were yet quite ripe. " Aye," said the
Exciseman, " but I mean, when do you mean to enter them at
*' the excise office ? " Chalcraft did not know (not living in a hop-
country), that he had already incurred & penalty for not reporting
to the tyrants that he had hops growing in his garden hedge !
He did not know, that he could not gather them and put them by
without giving notice, under a penalty of fifty pounds. He did
not know, that he could not receive this little gift of God without
paying money to the Boroughmongers in the shape of tax ;
and, to the Parson in the shape of tithe, or, to give a tenth of the
hops to the Parson, and not dare pick a single hop till he had sent
notice to the Parson ! What he did, upon this occasion, I have
forgotten ; but, it is likely that he let the hops stand and rot, or
cut them down and flung them away as weeds. Now, poor men
in England are told to be content with rags and hungry bellies,
for that is their lot : that " it has pleased Divine Providence to*
" place them in that state." But, here is a striking instance of
the falsehood and blasphemy of this Doctrine ; for, Providence
had sent Chalcraft the hops, and he had put poles to them.
Providence had brought the hops to perfection ; but then came
the Boroughmongers and the Parson to take from this poor man
this boon of a benevolent Maker. What, did God order a tax
with all its vexatious regulations, to be imposed upon what he
had freely given to this poor man ? Did God ordain that, in
addition to this tax, a tenth should be yielded to a Parson, who had
solemnly vowed at his ordination, that he believed himself called,
not by the love of tithes, but by " the Holy Ghost, to take on him
" the cure of souls," and to " bring stray sheep into the fold of the
" Lord ? " Did God ordain these things ? Had it phased God
to do this ? What impunity, what blasphemy, then, to ascribe

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GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

to Providence the manifold sufferings occasioned by the Borough -
mongers' taxes and Parson's tithes !

431. But, my Botley neighbours, you will exclaim, " No tithes !
" Why, then, there can be no Churches and no Parsons ! The
" people must know nothing of God or Devil ; and must all go
" to hell ! " By no means, my friends. Here are plenty of
Churches. No less than three Episcopal (or English) Churches ;
three Presbyterian Churches ; three Lutheran Churches ; one
or two Quaker Meeting-houses ; and two Methodist Places ;
all within six miles of the spot where I am sitting. And, these,
mind, not poor shabby Churches ; but each of them larger and
better built and far handsomer than Botley Church, with the
Church-yards all kept in the neatest order, with a head-stone to
almost every grave. As to the Quaker Meeting-house, it would
take Botley Church into its belly, if you were first to knock off
the steeple.

432. Oh, no ! Tithes are not necessary to promote religion.
When our Parsons, such as Baker, talk about religion, or the
church, being in danger ; they mean, that the tithes are in danger.
They mean, that they are in danger of being compelled to work for
their bread. This is what they mean. You remember, that, at
our last meeting at Winchester, they proposed for us to tell the
Prince Regent, that we would support the Church. I moved, to
leave out the word church, and insert the word tithes : for, as
there were many presbyterians and other dissenters present, they
could not, with clear consciences, pledge themselves to support
the church. This made them furious. It was lifting up the
mask : and the parsons were enraged beyond measure.

433. Oh, no ! Tithes do not mean religion. Religion means a
reverence for God. And, what has this to do with tithes ? Why
cannot you reverence God, without Baker and his wife and
children eating up a tenth part of the corn and milk and eggs and
lambs and pigs and calves that are produced in Botley parish ?
The Parsons, in this country, are supported by those who choose
to employ them. A man belongs to what congregation he pleases.
He pays what is required by the rules of the congregation. And,
if he think that it is not necessary for him to belong to any con
gregation, he pays nothing at all. And, the consequence is, that
all is harmony and good neighbourhood. Here are not disputes
about religion ; or, if there be, they make no noise. Here is
no ill-will on this account. A man is never asked what religion
he is of, or whether he be of any religion at all. It is a matter that

\nobody interferes in. What need, therefore, is there of an
established Church. What need is there of tithes ? And, why
should not that species of property be taken for public use ? That
is to say, as far as it had any thing to do with religion ? I know
very well, that tithes do not operate as many people pretend ; I
know that those who complain most about them have the least

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AND RELIGION

right to complain ; but, for my present purpose, it is sufficient^,
to shew, that they have nothing to do with retigion^

434. If, indeed, the Americans were wicked^ disorderly, criminal
people, and, of course, a miserable and foolish people : then we
might doubt upon the subject : then we might possibly suppose,
that their wickedness and misery arose, in some degree, at least,
from the want of tithes. But, the contrary is the fact. They are
the most orderly, sensible, and least criminal people in the whole
world. A common labouring man has the feelings of a man of
honour ; he never thinks of violating the laws ; he crawls to
nobody ; he will call every man Sir, but he will call no man
master. When he utters words of respect towards any one, they
do not proceed from fear or hope, but from civility and sincerity.
A native American labourer is never rude towards his employer,
but he is never cringing.

435. However, the best proof of the inutility of an established
Church is the absence of crimes in this country, compared to the
state of England in that respect. There have not been three
felonies tried in this country since I arrived in it. The Court
house is at two miles from me. An Irishman was tried for forgery
in the summer of 1817, and the whole country was alive to go and
witness the novelty. I have not heard of a man being hanged in
the whole of the United States since my arrival. The Borough-
mongers, in answer to statements like these, say that this is a
thinly inhabited country. This very country is more thickly
settled than Hampshire. The adjoining country, towards the city
of New York is much more thickly settled than Hampshire.
New York itself and its immediate environs contain nearly two
hundred thousand inhabitants, and after London, is, perhaps, the
first commercial and maritime city in the world. Thousands of
sailors, ship -carpenters, dock-yard people, dray-men, boat-men,
crowd its wharfs and quays. Yet, never do we hear of hanging ;
scarcely ever of a robbery ; men go to bed with scarcely locking

»their doors ; and never is there seen in the streets what is called
in England, a girl of the tozvn : and, what is still more, never is
(there seen in those streets a beggar. I wish you, my old neigh
bours, could see this city of New York. Portsmouth and Gosport,
taken together, are miserable holes compared to it. Man's
imagination can fancy nothing so beautiful as its bay and port,
from which two immense rivers sweep up on the sides of the point
of land, on which the city is. These rivers are continually covered
with vessels of various sizes bringing the produce of the land, while
the bay is scarcely less covered with ships going in and out from
all parts of the world. The city itself is a scene of opulence and
industry : riches without insolence, and labour without grudging.

436. What Englishman can contemplate this brilliant sight
without feeling some little pride that this city bears an English
name ? But, thoughts of more importance ought to fill his mind.
He ought to contrast the ease, the happiness, the absence of crime

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GOPERNMENT, LAWS,

which prevail here with the incessant anxieties, the miseries and
murderous works in England. In his search after causes he will
find them no where but in the government ; and, as to an
established church, if he find no sound argument to prove it to
be an evil ; at the very least he must conclude, that it is not a good :
and, of course that property to the amount of five millions a year
is very unjustly as well as unwisely bestowed on its clergy.

437. Nor, let it be said, that the people here are of a better
natural disposition than the people of England are. How can
it be ? They are, the far greater part of them, the immediate
descendants of Englishmen, Irishmen, and Scotsmen, Nay,
in the city of New York it is supposed, that a full half of the labour
is performed by natives of Ireland, while men of that Island make
a great figure in trade, at the bar, and in all the various pursuits
of life. They have their Romish Chapels there in great brilliancy '
and they enjoy " Catholic Emancipation " without any petitioning
or any wrangling. In short, blindfold an Englishman and convey
him to New York, unbind his eyes, and he will think himself in
an English city. The same sort of streets ; shops precisely the
same ; the same beautiful and modest women crowding in and
out of them ; the same play-houses ; the same men, same dress,
same language : he v/ill miss by day only the nobility and the
beggars, and by night only the street- walkers and pickpockets.
These are to be found only where there is an established clergy,
upheld by what is called the state, and which word means, in
England, the Boroughmongers.

438. Away, then, my friends, with all cant about the church,
and the church being in danger. If the church, that is to say, the
tithes, were completely abolished : if they, and all the immense
property of the church, were taken and applied to public use,
there would not be a sermon or a prayer the less. Not only the
Bible but the very Prayer-book is in use here as much as in
England, and, I believe, a great deil more. Why give the five
millions a year then, to Parsons and their w>ves and children ?
Since the English, Irish, and Scotch, are so good, so religious,
and so moral here without glebes and tithes ; why not use these
glebes and tithes for other purposes seeing they are possessions
which can legally be disposed of in another manner ?

439. But, the fact is, that it is the circumstance of the church
being established by law that makes it of little use- as to real religion,
and as to morals, as far as they be connected with religion. Because
as we shall presently see, this establishment forces upon the people
parsons whom they cannot respect, and whom indeed, they must
despise : and, it is easy to conceive, that the moral precepts of
those, whom we despise on account of their immorality, we shall
never much attend to, even supposing the precepts themselves to
be good. If a precept be self-evidently good ; if it be an obvious
duty which the parson inculcates, the inculcation is useless to us,
because, whenever it is wanted to guide us, it will occur without

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AND RELIGION

the suggestion of any one ; and, if the precept be not self-evidently
good, we shall never receive it as such from the lips of a man,
whose character and life tell us we ought to suspect the truth of
every thing he utters. When the matters as to which we are
receiving instructions are, in their nature, wholly dissimilar to
those as to which we have witnessed the conduct of the teacher,
we may reasonably, in listening to the piecept, disregard that
conduct. Because, for instance, a man, though a very indifferent
Christian, may be a most able soldier, seaman, physician, lawyer,
or almost any thing else ; and what is more, may be honest and
zealous in the discharge of his duty in any of these several
capacities. But, when the conduct, which we have observed in
the teacher belongs to the same department of life as the precept
which he is delivering, if the one differ from the other we cannot
believe the teacher to be sincere, unless he, while he enforces his
precept upon us, acknowledge his own misconduct. Suppose
me, for instance, to be a great liar, as great a liar, if possible, as
STEWART of the COURIER, who has said that I have been " fined
" 700 dollars for writing against the American government,"
though I never was prosecuted in America in all my life. Suppose
me to be as great a liar as STEWART, and I were to be told by a
parson, whom I knew to be as great a liar as myself, that I should
certainly go to hell if I did not leave off lying. Would his words
have any effect upon me ? No : because I should conclude,
that if he thought what he said, he would not be such a liar himself.
I should rely upon the parson generally, or I should not. If I
did, I should think myself safe until I out-lied him ; and, if I did
not rely on him generally, of what use would he be to me ?

440. Thus, then, if men be sincere about religion ; if it be not
all a mere matter of form, it must always be of the greatest con
sequence, that the example of the teacher correspond with his
teaching. And the most likely way to insure this, is to manage
things so that he may in the first place, be selected by the people,
and, in the second place, have no rewards in view other than those
which are to be given in consequence of his perseverance in a line
of good conduct.

441. And thus it is with the clergy in America, who are duly
and amply rewarded for their diligence, and very justly respected
for the piety, talent, and zeal which they discover ; but, who have
no tenure of their places other than that of the will of the con
gregation. Hence it rarely indeed happens, that there is seen
amongst them an impious, an immoral, or a despicable man.
Whether- the teaching of even these Reverend persons have any
"very great effect in producing virtue .and happiness amongst men
is a question upon which men may, without deserving to be burnt
alive, take the liberty to differ; especially since the world has
constantly before its eyesTa ."society, jyho excel in all the Christian
virtues, who practise that simplicitylwhich others Tfeach, who, in
the great work of charity, really and truly hide from the left hand

o 189

GOVERNMENT, LAWS,

that which the right hand doeth ; and who know nothing of
Bishop, Priest, Deacon, or Teacher of any description. Yes,
since we have the Quakers constantly before our eyes, we may,
without deserving to be burnt alive, question the utility of paying
any parsons or religious teachers at all. But, the worst of it is,
we are apt to confound things ; as we have, by a figure of speech,
got to call a. building a church, when a church really means a body
of people f ~§o~ we afe~"a"pl UTlook upon the priest as being religious,
and especially when we call him the reverend : and, it often sadly
occurs that no two things can be wider from each other in this
quality. Some writer has said, that he would willingly leave to
the clergy every thing above the tops of the chimneys ; which,
perhaps, was making their possessions rather too ethereal ; but,
since our law calls them " spiritual persons " : since they profess
that " their kingdom is not of this world," and, since those of our
church have solemnly declared, that they believed themselves to
be called to the ministry " by the Holy Ghost : " it is, I think, a
little out of character for them to come poking and grunting and
grumbling about after our eggs, potatoes, and sucking pigs.

442. However, upon the general question of the utility or non-
utility of paid religious teachers, let men decide for themselves ;
but if teachers are to be paid, it seems a clear point, in my mind,
that they should be paid upon the American plan : and this, I
think, must be obvious to every one, who is able to take a view of
the English Clergy. They are appointed by the absolute will of
the Boroughmongers. They care nothing for the good will of
their congregation or parish. It is as good to them to be hated
by their parishioners as to be loved by them. They very fre
quently never evenj££-their parish more than once in four or five
years. They solemnly declare at the altar, that they believe
themselves called by the Holy Ghost to take on them the cute of
souls : they get possession of a living ; and leave the cure of souls
to some curate, to whom they give a tenth part, perhaps, of the
income. Many of them have two livings, at thirty miles distance
from each other. They live at neither very frequently ; and,

" when they do they only add to the annoyance which their curate
gives.

443 . As to their general character and conduct ; in what public
transaction of pre-eminent scandal have they not taken a part ?
Who were found most intimate with Mrs. CLARKE, and most busy
in her commission dealing affairs ? Clergymen of the Church
of England. This is notorious. Miss TOCKER tells of the two
livings given to PARSON GURNEY for his electioneering works in
Cornwall. And, indeed all over the country, they have been and
are the prime agents of the Boroughmongers. Recently they have
been the tools of Sidmouth for gagging the press in the country
parts of the kingdom. Powis and Guillim were the prosecutors
of Messrs. Pilling and Melor ; and for which if they be not made
to answer, the kingdom ought to be destroyed. They are the

190

ANDJRELIGION

leading men at Pitt Clubs all over the country ; they were the
foremost to defend the .peculation^of .Melville . In short, there
has been no public man guilty of an InTahTolis'^ct, of whom they
have not taken the part ; and no act of tyranny of which they have
not been the eulogists and the principal instrument. ;;< r

444. But, why do I attempt to describe Parsons to Hampshire
men ? You saw them all assembled in grand cohort the last time
that I saw any of you. You saw them at Winchester, when they
brought forward their lying address to the Regent. You saw
them on that day, and so did I ; and in them I saw a band of more
complete blackguards than I ever before saw in all my life. I then
saw Parson Baines of Exton, standing up in a chair and actually
spitting in Lord Cochrane's poll, while the latter was bending his
neck out to speak. Lord Cochrane looked round and said,
" B. G — Sir, if you do that again I'll knock you down." " You
" be d — d," said Baines, " I'll spit where I like." Lord Cochrane
struck at him ; Baines jumped down, put his two hands to his
mouth in a huntsman-like way, and cried " whoop ! whoop ! "
till he was actually black in the face. One of them trampled upon
my heel as I was speaking. I looked round, and begged him to
leave off. " You be d — d," said he, " you be d — d, Jacobin."
He then tried to press on me, to stifle my voice, till I clapped my
elbow into his ribs and made " the spiritual person " hiccup.
There were about twenty of them mounted upon a large table in
the room ; and there they jumped, stamped, hallooed, roared,
thumped with canes and umbrellas, squalled, whistled, and made
all sorts of noises. As Lord Cochrane and I were going back to
London, he said that, so many years as he had been in the navy, he
never had seen a band of such complete blackguards. And I
said the same for the army. And, I declare, that, in the whole
course of my life, I have never seen any men, drunk or sober,
behave in so infamous a manner. Mr. PHILLIPS, of Eling, (now
Doctor Phillips) whom I saw standing in the room, I tapped on
the shoulder, and asked, whether he was not ashamed. Mr. LEE,
of the College ; Mr. OGLE, of Bishop's Waltham ; and DOCTOR
HILL, of Southampton : these were exceptions. Perhaps the" 2
might be some others ; but the mass was the most audacious,
foul, and atrocious body of men I ever saw. We had done nothing
to offend them. We had proposed nothing to offend them in the
smallest degree. But, they were afraid of our speeches ; they
knew they could not answer us ; and they were resolved, that, if
possible, we should not be heard. There was one person, who
had his mouth within a foot of Lord Cochrane's ear, all the time
his Lordship was speaking, and who kept on saying : " You lie !
" you lie ! you lie I you lie ! " as loud as he could utter the words.

445. BAKER, the Botley Parson, was extremely busy. He acted
the part of buffoon to LOCKHART. He kept capering about behind
him, and really seemed like a merry andrew rather than a
" spiritual person"

191

GOVERNMENT, LAWS, ETC.

446. Such is the character of the great body of Hampshire
Parsons. I know of no body of men so despicable, and yet, what
sums of public money do they swallow ! It now remains for me
to speak more particularly of BAKER, he who, for your sins I
suppose, is fastened upon you as your Parson. But what I have
to say of this man must be the subject of another Letter. That
it should be the subject of any letter at all may well surprize all
who know the man ; for not one creature knows him without
despising him. But, it is not BAKER, it is the scandalous priest,
that I strike at. It is the impudent, profligate, hardened priest
that I will hold up to public scorn.

447. When I see the good and kind people here going to church
to listen to some decent man of good moral character and of sober
quiet life, I always think of you. You are just the same sort of
people as they are here ; but, what a difference in the Clergyman !
What a difference between the sober, sedate, friendly man who
preaches to one of these congregations, and the greedy, chattering,
lying, backbiting, mischief-making, everlasting plague, that you
go to hear, and are compelled to hear, or stay away from the church.
Baker always puts me in mind of the Magpie.

The Magpie, bird of chatt'ring fame,
Whose tongue and hue bespeak his name;
The first a squalling clam'rous clack,
The last made up of white and black;
Feeder alike on flesh and corn,
Greedy alike at eve and morn;
Of all the birds the prying pest,
Must needs be Parson o'er the rest.

448. Thus I began a fable, when I lived at Botley.'^ I have
forgotten the rest of it. It will please you to hear that there are
go Magpies in America ; but, it will please you still more to hear,
tnalJlU meTi thai iesem!51e them are parsons here. I have some
times been half tempted to believe, that the Magpie first suggested
to tyrants the idea of having a tithe-eating Clergy. The Magpie
devours the corn and grain ; so does the Parson. The Magpie
takes the wool from the sheep's backs ; so does the Parson. The
Magpie devours alike the young animals and the eggs ; so does the
Parson. The Magpie's clack is everlastingly going ; so is the
Parson's. The Magpie repeats by rote words that are taught it ;
so does the Parson. The Magpie is always skipping and hopping
and peeping into other's nests : so is the Parson. The Magpie's
colour is partly black and partly white ; so is the Parson's. The
Magpie's greediness, impudence, and cruelty are proverbial ; so
are those of the Parson. I was saying to a farmer the other day,
that if the Boroughmongers had a mind to ruin America, they
would another time, send over five or six good large flocks of
Magpies, instead of five or six of their armies ; but, upon second
thought, they would do the thing far more effectually by sending
over five or six flocks of their Parsons, and getting the people to
receive them and cherish them as the Bulwark of religion.

END OF PART II.

PART III

DEDICATION

To
TIMOTHY BROWN, Esq.,

OF PECKHAM LODGE, SURREY.

North Hempsteady Long Island,

10 Dec. 1818.
MY DEAR SIR,

THE little volume here presented to the public, consists, as
you will perceive, for the greater and most valuable part, of
travelling notes, made by our friend HULME, whom I had the
honour to introduce to you in 1816, and with whom you were so
much pleased.

His activity, which nothing can benumb, his zeal against the
twin monster, tyranny and priestcraft, which nothing can cool,
and his desire to assist in providing a place of retreat for the
oppressed, which nothing but success in the accomplishment can
satisfy ; these have induced him to employ almost the whole of
his time here in various ways all tending to the same point.

The Boroughmongers have agents and spies all over the in
habited globe. Here they cannot sell blood : they can only collect
information and calumniate the people of both countries. These
vermin our friend firks out (as the Hampshire people call it) ;
and they hate him as rats hate a terrier.

Amongst his other labours, he has performed a very laborious
journey to the Western Countries, and has been as far as the Colony
of our friend BIRKBECK. This journey has produced a JOURNAL ;
and this Journal, along with the rest of the volume, I dedicate to
you in testimony of my constant remembrance of the many, many
happy hours I have spent with you, and of the numerous acts of
kindness, which I have received at your hands. You were one of
those, who sought acquaintance with me, when I was shut up in a
felon's jail for two years for having expressed my indignation at
seeing Englishmen flogged, in the heart of England, under a guard

'95

DEDICATION

of German bayonets and sabres, and when I had on my head a
thousand pounds fine and seven years' recognizances. You, at the
end of the two years, took me from the prison, in your carriage,
home to your house. You and our kind friend, WALKER, are,
even yet, held in bonds for my good behaviour, the seven years not
being expired. All these things are written in the very cord of my
heart ; and when I act as if I had forgotten any one of them, may
no name on earth be so much detested and despised as that of

Your faithful friend,

And most obedient servant,

WM. COBBETT.

196

PREFACE TO PAR? III.

849. IN giving an account of the United States of America, it
would not have been proper to omit saying something of the
Western Countries, that Newest of the New Worlds, to which so
many thousands and hundreds of thousands are flocking, and
towards which the writings of Mr. Birkbeck have, of late, drawn
the pointed attention of all those Englishmen, who, having some
thing left to be robbed of, and wishing to preserve it, are looking
towards America as a place of refuge from the Boroughmongers
and the Holy Alliance, which latter, to make the compact complete,
seems to want nothing but the accession of His Satanic Majesty.

850. 1 could not go to the Western Countries ; and, the accounts
of others were seldom to be relied on ; because, scarcely any man
goes thither without some degree of partiality, or comes back
without being tainted with some little matter, at least, of self-
interest. Yet, it was desirable to make an attempt, at least,
towards settling the question : " Whether the Atlantic, or the
" Western, Countries were the best for English Farmers to settle
" in." Therefore, when MR. HULME proposed to make a Western
Tour, I was very much pleased, seeing that, of all the men I knew,
he was the most likely to bring us back an impartial account of
what he should see. His great knowledge of farming as well as
of manufacturing affairs ; his capacity of estimating local ad
vantages and disadvantages ; the natural turn of his mind for
discovering the means of applying to the use of man all that is
furnished by the earth, the air, and water ; the patience and
perseverance with which he pursues all his inquiries ; the urbanity
of his manners, which opens to him all the sources of information :
his inflexible adherence to truth ; all these marked him out as the
man, on whom the public might safely rely.

851. I, therefore, give his Journal, made during his tour. He
offers no opinion as to the question above stated. That / shall
do ; and, when the reader has gone through the Journal he will
find my opinions as to that question, which opinions I have stated
in a Letter, addressed to Mr. BIRKBECK.

852. The American reader will perceive, that this Letter is
intended principally for the perusal of Englishmen : and, there-

197

PREFACE ?o PART: m

fore, he must not be surprised if he find a little bickering in a
group so much of a family cast.

WM. COBBETT.

North Hempstead,

loth December, 1818.

TSAR'S <F(SSIDSNCS
IN RUBRIC A

INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL.

Philadelphia, loth Sept., 1818.

853. IT seems necessary, by way of Introduction to the following
Journal, to say some little matter respecting the author of it, and
also respecting his motives for wishing it to be published.

854. As to the first, I am an Englishman by birth and parentage ;
and am of the county of Lancaster. I was bred and brought up at
farming work, and became an apprentice to the business of
Bleacher, at the age of 14 years. My own industry made me a
master-bleacher, in which state I lived many years at Great
Lever, near Bolton, where I employed about 140 men, women,
and children, and had generally about 40 apprentices. By this
business, pursued with incessant application, I had acquired,
several years ago, property to an amount sufficient to satisfy any
man of moderate desires.

855. But, along with my money my children had come and had
gone on increasing to the number of nine. New duties now arose,
and demanded my best attention. It was not sufficient that I was
likely to have a decent fortune for each child. I was bound to
provide, if possible, against my children being stripped of what
I had earned for them. I, therefore, looked seriously at the
situation of England ; and, I saw, that the incomes of my children

199

INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL

were all pawned (as my friend Cobbett truly calls it) to pay the
Debts of the Borough, or seat, owners. I saw, that, of whatever
I might be able to give to my children, as well as of what they
might be able to earn, more than one half would be taken away to
feed pensioned Lords and Ladies, Soldiers to shoot at us, Parsons
to persecute us, and Fundholders, who had lent their money to
be applied to purposes of enslaving us. This view of the matter
was sufficient to induce the father of nine children to think of the
means of rescuing them from the consequences, which common
sense taught him to apprehend. But, there were other con
siderations, which operated with me in producing my emigration
to America.

856. In the year 181 1 and 1812 the part of the country, in which
I lived, was placed under a new sort of law : or, in other words,
it was placed out of the protection of the old law of the land.
Men were seized, dragged to prison, treated like convicts, many
transported and put to death, without having committed any
thing, which the law of the land deems a crime. It was then that
the infamous Spy-System was again set to work in Lancashire,
in which horrid system FLETCHER of Bolton was one of the principal
actors, or, rather, organizers and promoters. At this time I
endeavoured to detect the machinations of these dealers in human
blood ; and, I narrowly escaped being sacrificed myself on the
testimony of two men, who had their pardon offered them on
condition of their swearing against me. The men refused, and
were transported, leaving wives and children to starve.

857. Upon this occasion, my friend DOCTOR TAYLOR, most
humanely, and with his usual zeal and talent, laboured to counter
act the works of FLETCHER and his associates. The DOCTOR
published a pamphlet on the subject, in 1812, which every English
man should read. I, as far as I was able, co-operated with him.
We went to London, laid the real facts before several members
of the two houses of Parliament ; and, in some degree, checked
the progress of the dealers in blood. I had an interview with
Lord Holland, and told him, that, if he would pledge himself to
cause the secret-service money to be kept in London, I would
pledge myself for the keeping of the peace in Lancashire. In
short, it was necessary, in order to support the tyranny of the seat-
sellers, that terror should prevail in the populous districts. Blood
was wanted to flow ; and money was given to spies to tempt men
into what the new law had made crimes.

858. From this time I resolved not to leave my children in such a
state of things, unless I should be taken off very suddenly. I saw
no hope of obtaining a Reform of the Parliament, without which
it was clear to me, that the people of England must continue to
work solely for the benefit of the great insolent families, whom I
hated for their injustice and rapacity, and despised for their
meanness and ignorance. I saw, in them, a mass of debauched
and worthless beings, having at their command an army to compel

200

INTRODUCTION ?O THE JOURNAL

the people to surrender to them the fruits of their industry ;
and, in addition, a body existing under the garb of religion, almost
as despicable in point of character, and still more malignant.

859. I could not have died in peace, leaving my children the
slaves of such a set of beings ; and, I could not live in peace,
knowing that, at any hour, I might die and so leave my family.
Therefore, I resolved, like the Lark in the fable, to remove my
brood, which was still more numerous than that of the Lark.
While the war was going on between England and America, I
could not come to this country. Besides, I had great affairs to
arrange. In 1816, having made my preparations, I set off, not
with my family : for, that I did not think a prudent step. It was
necessary for me to see what America really was. I, therefore,
came for that purpose.

860. I was well pleased with America, over a considerable part
of which I travelled. I saw an absence of human misery. I saw
a government taking away a very, very small portion of men's
earnings. I saw ease and happiness and a fearless utterance of
thought every where prevail. I saw laws like those of the old
laws of England, every where obeyed with cheerfulness and held
in veneration. I heard of no mobs, no riots, no spies, no
transportings, no hangings. I saw those very Irish, to keep whom
in order, such murderous laws exist in Ireland, here good,
peaceable, industrious citizens. I saw no placemen and
pensioners, riding the people under foot. I saw no greedy
Priesthood, fattening on the fruits of labour in which they had
never participated, and which fruits they seized in despite of the
people. I saw a Debt, indeed, but then, it was so insignificant a
thing ; and, besides, it had been contracted for the people's use,
and not for that of a set of tyrants, who had used the money to
the injury of the people. In short, I saw a state of things, precisely
the reverse of that in England, and very nearly what it would be
in England, if the Parliament were reformed.

861. Therefore, in the Autumn of 1816, I returned to England
fully intending to return the next spring with my family and
whatever I possessed of the fruits of my labours, and to make
America my country and the country of that family. Upon my
return to England, however, I found a great stir about Reform :
and, having, in their full force, all those feelings, which make our
native country dear to us, I said, at once, " my desire is, not to
" change country or countrymen, but to change slavery for
" freedom : give me freedom here, and here I'll remain." These
are nearly the very words that I uttered to Mr. COBBETT, when
first introduced to him, in December, 1816, by that excellent man,
MAJOR CARTWRIGHT. Nor was I unwilling to labour myself in the
cause of Reform. I was one of those very Delegates, of whom
the Borough-tyrants said so many falsehoods, and whom SIR
FRANCIS BURDETT so shamefully abandoned. In the meeting of
Delegates, I thought we went too far in reposing confidence in

INTRODUCTION ?O 'THE JOURNAL

him : I spoke my opinion as to this point : and, in a very few
days, I had the full proof of the correctness of my opinion. I
was present when MAJOR CARTWRIGHT opened a letter from SIR
FRANCIS, which had come from Leicestershire. I thought the
kind-hearted old Major would have dropped upon the floor !
I shall never forget his looks as he read that letter. If the paltry
Burdett had a hundred lives, the taking of them all away would
not atone for the pain he that day gave to Major Cartwright, not
to mention the pain given to others, and the injury done to the
cause. For my part, I was not much disappointed. I had no
opinion of Sir Francis Burdett's being sound. He seemed to me
too much attached to his own importance to do the people any
real service. He is an aristocrat : and that is enough for me. It
is folly to suppose, that such a man will ever be a real friend of the
rights of the people. I wish he were here a little while. He
would soon find his proper level ; and that would not, I think,
be very high. Mr. HUNT was very much against our confiding
in BURDETT ; and he was perfectly right. I most sincerely hope,
that my countrymen will finally destroy the tyrants who oppress
them ; but, I am very sure, that, before they succeed in it, they
must cure themselves of the folly of depending for assistance on
the nobles or the half-nobles.

862. After witnessing this conduct in Burdett, I set off home,
and thought no more about effecting a Preform. The Acts that
soon followed were, by me, looked upon as matters of course.
The tyranny could go on no longer under disguise. It was com
pelled to shew its naked face ; but, it is now, in reality, not worse
than it was before. It now does no more than rob the people,
and that it did before. It kills more now out- right ; but, men
may as well be shot, or stabbed, or hanged, as starved to death.

863. During the Spring and the early part of the Summer, of
1817, I made preparations for the departure of myself and family,
and when all was ready, I bid an everlasting adieu to Borough-
mongers, Sinecure placemen and placewomen, pensioned Lords
and Ladies, Standing Armies in time of peace, and (rejoice, oh I
my children !) to a hireling, tithe-devouring Priesthood. We
arrived safe and all in good health, and which health has never
been impaired by the climate. We are in a state of ease, safety,
plenty ; and how can we help being as happy as people can be ?
The more I see of my adopted country, the more gratitude do I
feel towards it for affording me and my numerous offspring
protection from the tyrants of my native country. There I
should have been in constant anxiety about rny family. Here
I am in none at all. Here I am in fear of no spies, no false witnesses .
no blood-money men. Here no fines, irons, or gallowses await me,
let me think or say what I will about the government. Here 'I
have to pay no people to be ready to shoot at me, or run me through
the body, or chop me down. Here no vile Priest can rob me and
mock me in the same breath.

INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL

864. In the year 1816 my travelling in America was confined
to the Atlantic States. I there saw enough to determine the
question of emigration or no emigration. But, a spot to settle
on myself was another matter ; for, though I do not know, that I
shall meddle with any sort of trade, or occupation, in the view
of getting money, I ought to look about me, and to consider
soberly as to a spot to settle on with so large a family. It was
right, therefore, for me to see the Western Countries. I have done
this ; and the particulars, which I thought worthy my notice,
I noted down in a Journal. This Journal I now submit to the
public. My chief motive in the publication is to endeavour to
convey useful information, and especially to those persons, who
may be disposed to follow my example, and to withdraw their
families and fortunes from beneath the hoofs of the tyrants of
England.

865. I have not the vanity to suppose myself eminently qualified
for any thing beyond my own profession ; but I have been an
attentive observer ; I have raised a considerable fortune by my
own industry and economy ; I have, all my life long, studied the
matters connected with agriculture, trade, and manufactures. I
had a desire to acquire an accurate knowledge of the Western
Countries, and what I did acquire I have endeavoured to com
municate to others. It was not my object to give flowry
descriptions. I leave that to poets and painters. Neither have
I attempted any general estimate of the means or manner of living
or getting money, in the West. But, I have contented myself
with merely noting down the facts that struck me ; and from
those facts the reader must draw his conclusions.

866. In one respect I am a proper person to give an account of
the Western Countries. I have no lands there ; I have no interests
there : I have nothing to warp my judgment in favour of those
countries : and yet, I have as little in the Atlantic States to warp
my judgment in their favour. I am perfectly impartial in my
feelings, and am, therefore, likely to be impartial in my words.
My good wishes extend to the utmost boundary of my adopted
country. Every particular part of it is as dear to me as every
other particular part.

867. I have recommended most strenuously the encouraging
and promoting of Domestic Manufacture : not because I mean to
be engaged in any such concern myself ; for it is by no means
likely that I ever shall ; but, because I think that such encourage
ment and promotion would be greatly beneficial to America, and
because it would provide a happy Asylum for my native oppressed
and distressed countrymen, who have been employed all the days
of their lives in manufactures in England, where the principal
part of the immense profits of their labour is consumed by the
Borough tyrants and their friends, and expended for the vile
purpose of perpetuating a system of plunder and despotism at
home, and all over the world.

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INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL

868. Before I conclude this Introduction, I must observe, that
I see with great pain, and with some degree of shame, the
behaviour of some persons from England, who appear to think
that they give proof of their high breeding by repaying civility,
kindness, and hospitality, with reproach and insolence. However,
these persons are despised. They produce very little impression
here ; and, though the accounts they send to England, may be
believed by some, they will have little effect on persons of sense
and virtue. Truth will make its way ; and it is, thank God, now
making its way with great rapidity.

869. I could mention numerous instances of Englishmen,
coming to this country with hardly a dollar in their pocket, arid
arriving at a state of ease and plenty and even riches in a few
years ; and I explicitly declare, that I have never known or heard
of, an instance of one common labourer who, with common
industry and economy, did not greatly better his lot. Indeed,
how can it otherwise be, when the average wages of agricultural
labour is double what it is in England, and when the average price
of food is not more than half what it is in that country ? These
two facts, undeniable as they are, are quite sufficient to satisfy
any man of sound mind.

870. As to the manners of the people, they are precisely to my
taste : unostentatious and simple. Good sense I find every
where, and never affectation. Kindness, hospitality, and never-
failing civility. I have travelled more than four thousand miles
about this country ; and I never met with one single insolent or
rude native American.

871. I trouble myself very little about the party politics of the
country. These contests are the natural offspring of freedom ;
and, they tend to perpetuate that which produces them. I look
at the people as a whole : and I love them and feel grateful to
them for having given the world a practical proof, that peace,
social order, and general happiness can be secured, and best
secured, without Monarchs, Dukes, Counts, Baronets, and
Knights. I have no unfriendly feeling towards any Religious
Society. I wish well to every member of every such Society ;
but, I love the Quakers, and feel grateful towards them, for having
proved to the world, that all the virtues, public as well as private,
flourish most and bring forth the fairest fruits when unincumbered
with those noxious weeds, hireling priests.

THOMAS HULME.

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THE JOURNAL

872. PITTSBURGH, June 3. — Arrived here with a friend as
travelling companion, by the mail stage from Philadelphia, after
a journey of six days ; having set out on the 28th May. We were
much pleased with the face of the country, the greatest part of
which was new to me. The route, as far as Lancaster, lay through
a rich and fertile country, well cultivated by good, settled pro
prietors ; the road excellent : smooth as the smoothest in England,
and hard as those made by the cruel corvtes in France. The
country finer, but the road not always so good, all the way from
Lancaster, by Little York, to Chambersburgh ; after which it
changes for mountains and poverty, except in timber. Chambers-
burgh is situated on the North West side of that fine valley which
lies between the South and North Mountains, and which extends
from beyond the North East boundary of Pennsylvania to nearly
the South West extremity of North Carolina, and which has
limestone for its bottom and rich and fertile soil, and beauty upon
the face of it, from one end to the other. The ridges of mountains
called the Allegany, and forming the highest land in North
America between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, begin here and
extend across our route nearly 100 miles, or, rather, three days,
for it was no less than half the journey to travel over them ; they
rise one above the other as we proceed Westward, till we reach
the Allegany, the last and most lofty of all, from which we have
a view to the West farther than the eye can carry. I can say
nothing in commendation of the road over these mountains, but
I must admire the drivers, and their excellent horses. The road
is every thing that is bad, but the skill of the drivers, and the well
constructed vehicles, and the capital old English horses, overcome
every thing. We were rather singularly fortunate in not breaking
down or upsetting ; I certainly should not have been surprized
if the whole thing, horses and all, had gone off the road and been
dashed to pieces. A new road is making, however, and when that
is completed, the journey will be shorter in point of time, just one
half. A fine even country we get into immediately on descending
the Allegany, with very little appearance of unevenness or of
barrenness all the way to Pittsburgh ; the evidence of good
land in the crops, and the country beautified by a various mixture
of woods and fields.

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873. Very good accommodations for travellers the whole of the
way. The stage stops to breakfast and to dine, and sleeps where
it sups. They literally feasted us every where, at every meal,
with venison and good meat of all sorts : every thing in profusion.
In one point, however, I must make an exception, with regard to
some houses : at night I was surprized, in taverns so well kept
in other respects, to find bugs in the beds 1 I am sorry to say I
observed (or, rather, felt) this too often. Always good eating
and drinking, but not always good sleeping.

874. June 4th and $th. — Took a view of Pittsburgh. It is
situated between the mouths of the rivers Allegany and Monon-
gahela, at the point where they meet and begin the Ohio, and is
laid out in a triangular form, so that two sides of it lie contiguous
to the water. Called upon Mr. Bakewell, to whom we were
introduced by letter, and who very obligingly satisfied our
curiosity to see every thing of importance. After showing us
through his extensive and well conducted glass works, he rowed
us across the Monongahela to see the mines from which the fine
coals we had seen burning were brought. These coals are taken
out from the side of a steep hill, very near to the river, and brought
from thence and laid down in any part of the town for 7 cents the
bushel, weighing, perhaps, 80 Ibs. Better coals I never saw. A
bridge is now building over the river, by which they will most
probably be brought still cheaper.

875. This place surpasses even my expectations, both in natural
resources and in extent of manufactures. Here are the materials
for every species of manufacture, nearly, and of excellent quality
and in profusion ; and these means have been talcen advantage
of by skilful and industrious artisans and mechanics from all parts
of the world. There is scarcely a denomination of manufacture
or manual profession that is not carried on to a great extent, and,
as far as I have been able to examine, in the best manner. The
manufacture of iron in all the different branches, and the mills of
all ?orts, which I examined with the most attention, are admirable.

876. Price of flour, from 4 to 5 dollars a barrel ; butter 14 cents
per Ib. ; other provisions in proportion, and mechanic's and good
labourer's wages i dollar, and ship-builder's i dollar and a half,
a day.

8J7. June 6th. — Leave Pittsburgh, and set out in a thing called
an ark which we buy for the purpose, down the Ohio. We have,
besides, a small skiff, to tow the ark and go ashore occasionally.
This ark, which would stow away eight persons, close packed, is a
thing by no means pleasant to travel in, especially at night. It is
strong at bottom, but may be compared to an orange-box, bowed
over at top, and so badly made as to admit a boy's hand to steal
the oranges : it is proof against the river, but not against the rain.

878. Just on going to push off the wharf, an English officer
stepped on board of us, with all the curiosity imaginable. I at
once took him. for a spy hired to way-lay travellers. He began

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a talk about the Western countries, anxiously assuring us that we
need not hope to meet with such a thing as a respectable person
travel where we would. I told him I hoped in God I should see
no spy or informer, whether in plain clothes or regimentals, and
that of one thing I was certain, at any rate ; that I should find no
Sinecure placeman or pensioner in the Western country.

879. The Ohio, at its commencement, is about 600 yards broad,
and continues running with nearly parallel sides, taking two or
three different directions in its course, for about 200 miles. There
is a curious contrast between the waters which form this river :
that of the Allegany is clear and transparent, that of the Monon-
gahela thick and muddy, and it is not for a considerable distance
that they entirely mingle. The sides of the river are beautiful ;
there are always rich bottom lands upon the banks, which are steep
and pretty high, varying in width from a few yards to a mile, and
skirted with steep hills varying also in height, overhanging with
fine timber.

880. June fth. — Floating down the Ohio, at the rate of four
miles an hour. Lightning, thunder, rain and hail pelting in upon
us. The hail-stones as large as English hazle-nuts. Stop at
Steubenville all night. A nice place ; has more stores than
taverns, which is a good sign.

881. June 8th. — Came to Wheeling at about 12 o'clock. It is
a handsome place, and of considerable note. Stopped about an
hour. Found flour to be about 4 to 5 dollars a barrel ; fresh
beef 4 to 6 cents per lb., and other things (the produce of the
country) about the same proportion. Labourers' wages, i dollar
a day. Fine coals here, and at Steubenville.

882. June Qth. — Two fine young men join us, one a carpenter
and the other a saddler, from Washington, in a skiff that they have
bought at Pittsburgh, and in which they are taking a journey of
about 700 miles down the river. We allow them to tie their skiff
to our ark, for which they very cheerfully assist us. Much
diverted to see the nimbleness with which they go on shore some
times with their rifles to shoot pigeons and squirrels. The
whole expences of these two young men in floating the 700 miles,
will be but 7 dollars each, including skiff and every thing else.

883. This day pass Marietta, a good looking town at the mouth
of the Muskingham River. It is, however, like many other towns
on the Ohio, built on too low ground, and is subject to inundations.
Here I observe a contrivance of great ingenuity . There is a strong
rope put across the mouth of the river, opposite the town, fastened
to trees or large posts on each side ; upon this rope runs a pulley
or block, to which is attached a rope, and to the rope a ferry-boat,
which, by moving the helm first one way and then the other, is
propelled by the force of the water across the river backwards
or forwards.

884. June loth. — Pass several fine coal mines, which, like those
at Pittsburgh, Steubenville, Wheeling and other places, are not

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above 50 yards from the river and are upwards of 10 yards above
high water. The river now becomes more winding than we have
hitherto found it. It is sometimes so serpentine that it appears
before and behind like a continuation of lakes, and the hills on
its banks seem to be the separations. Altogether, nothing can
be more beautiful.

885. June nth. — A very hot day, but I could not discover the
degree of heat. On going along we bought two Perch, weighing
about 8 Ibs. each, for 25 cents, of a boy who was fishing. Fish
of this sort will sometimes weigh 30 Ibs. each.

886. June 122/2. — Pass Portsmouth, at the mouth of the Scioto
River. A sort of village, containing a hundred or two of houses.
Not worthy of any particular remark.

887. June i^th. — Arrived at Cincinnati about midnight. Tied
our ark to a large log at the side of the river, and went to sleep.
Before morning, however, the fastening broke, and, if it had not
been for a watchful back-woods-man whom we had taken on
board some distance up the river, we might have floated ten or
fifteen miles without knowing it. This back-woods-man, besides
being of much service to us, has been a very entertaining com
panion. He says he has been in this country forty years, but that
he is an Englishman, and was bred in Sherwood Forest (he could
not have corne from a better nursery). All his adventures he
detailed to us very minutely, but dwelt with particular warmth
upon one he had had with a priest, lately, who, to spite him for
preaching, brought an action against him, but was cast and had to
pay costs.

888. June i^th and i^th. — Called upon Doctor Drake and upon
a Mr. Bosson, to whom we had letters. These gentlemen shewed
us the greatest civility, and treated us with a sort of kindness
which must have changed the opinion even of the English officer
whom we saw at Pittsburgh, had he been with us. I could tell
that dirty hireling scout, that even in this short space of time, I
have had the pleasure to meet many gentlemen, very well in
formed, and possessing great knowledge as to their own country,
evincing public spirit in all their actions, and hospitality and
kindness in all their demeanor ; but, if they be pensioners, male
or female, or sinecure place lords or ladies, I have yet come across,
thank God, no respectable people.

889. Cincinnati is a very fine town, and elegantly (not only in
the American acceptation of the word) situated on the banks of
the rivet, nearly opposite to Licking Creek, which runs out of
Kentucky, and is a stream of considerable importance. The
country round the town is beautiful, and the soil rich ; the fields
in its immediate vicinity bear principally grass, and clover of
different sorts, the fragrant smell of which perfumes the air.
The town itself ranks next to Pittsburgh, of the towns on the
Ohio, in point of manufactures.

, 890. We sold our ark, and its produce formed a deduction from

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our expences, which, with that deduction, amounted to 14 dollars
each, including every thing, for the journey from Pittsburgh to
this place, which is upwards of 500 miles. I could not but
remark the price of fuel here ; 2 dollars a cord for Hickory ; a
cord is 8 feet by 4, and 4 deep, and the wood, the best in the world ;
it burns much like green Ash, but gives moie heat. This, which
is of course the highest price for fuel in this part of the country,
is only about a fifth of what it is at Philadelphia.

891. June i6th. — Left Cincinnati for Louisville with seven
other persons, in a skiff about 20 feet long and 5 feet wide.

892. June ijth. — Stopped at VEVAY, a very neat and beautiful
place, about 70 miles above the falls of the Ohio. Our visit
here was principally to see the mode used, as well as what progress
was made, in the cultivation of the vine, and I had a double
curiosity, never having as yet seen a vineyard. These vineyards
are cultivated entirely by a small settlement of Swiss, of about
a dozen families, who have been here about ten years. They
first settled on the Kentucky river, but did not succeed there.
They plant the vines in rows, attached to stakes like espaliers, and
they plough between with a one-horse plough. The grapes,
which are of the sorts of claret and madeira, look very fine and
luxuriant, and will be ripe in about the middle of September.
The soil and climate both appear to be quite congenial to the
growth of the vine : the former rich and the latter warm. The
north west wind, when it blows, is very cold, but the south, south
east and south west winds, which are always waim, are prevalent.
The heat, in the middle of the summer, I understand, is very
great, being generally above 85 degrees, and sometimes above 100
degrees. Each of these families has a farm as well as a vineyard,
so that they supply themselves with almost every necessary and
have their wine all clear profit. Their produce will this year be
probably not less than 5000 gallons ; we bought 2 gallons of it at
a dollar each, as good as I would wish to drink. Thus it is that
the tyrants of Europe create vineyards in this new country 1

893. June iSth. — Arrived at Louisvile, Kentucky. The town
is situated at the commencement of the falls, or rapids, of the
Ohio. The river, at this place, is little less than a mile wide, and
the falls continue from a ledge of rocks which runs across the
river in a sloping direction at this part, to Shippingport, about
2 miles lower down. Perceiving stagnant waters about the town,
and an appearance of the house that we stopped at being infested
with bugs, we resolved not to make any stay at Louisville, but got
into our skiff and floated down the falls to Shippingport. We
found it very rough floating, not to say dangerous. The river
of very unequal widths and full of islands and rocks along this
short distance, and the current very rapid, though the descent is
not more than 22 feet. At certain times of the year the water
rises so that there is no fall ; large boats can then pass.

894. At Shippingport, stopped at the house of Mr. Berthoud,

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a very respectable French gentleman, from whom we received
the greatest civility during our stay, which was two nights and the
day intervening.

895. Shippingport is situated at a place of very great importance,
being the upper extremity of that part of the river which is
navigable for heavy steam-boats. All the goods coming from
the country are re-shipped, and every thing going to it is un
shipped, here. Mr. Berthoud has the store in which the articles
exporting or importing are lodged ; and is, indeed, a great shipper,
though at a thousand miles from the sea.

896. June 2oth. — Left the good and comfortable house of Mr.
Berthoud, very much pleased with him and his amiable wife and
family, though I differed with him a little in politics. Having
been taught at church, when a boy, that the Pope was the whore
of Babylon, that the Bourbons were tyrants, and that the Priests
and privileged orders of France were impostors and petty tyrants
under them, I could not agree with him in applauding the Borough-
mongers of England for re-subjugating the people of France, and
restoring the Bourbons, the Pope, and the Inquisition.

897. Stop at New Albany, 2 miles below Shippingport, till the
evening. A Mr. Paxton, I am told, is the proprietor of a great
part of the town, and has the grist and saw-mills, which are worked
by steam, and the ferry across the river. Leave this place in
company with a couple of young men from the western part of
the state of New York, who are on their way to Tennessee in. a
small ferry-boat. Their whole journey will, probably, be about
1,500 miles.

898. June 2ist. — Floating down the river, without any thing in
particular occurring.

899. June 22nd. — Saw a Mr. Johnstone and his wife reaping
wheat on the side of the river. They told us they had come to
this spot last year, direct from Manchester, Old England, and
had bought their little farm of 55 acres of a back-woods-man
who had cleared it, and was glad to move further westward, for 3
dollars an acre. They had a fine flock of little children, and pigs
and poultry, and were cheerful and happy, being confident that
their industry and economy would not be frustrated by visits for
tithes or taxes.

900. June 2$rd. — See great quantities of turkey-buzzards and
thousands of pigeons. Came to Pigeon Creek, about 230 miles
below the Falls, and stopped for the night at Evansville, a town
of nine months old, near the mouth of it. We are now frequently
met and passed by large, fine steam-boats, plying up and down
the river. One went by us as we arrived here which had left
Shippingport only the evening before. They go down the river
at the rate of 10 miles an hour, and charge passengers 6 cents, a
mile, boarding and lodging included. The price is great, but the
time is short.

901. June 2$th. — Left Evansville. This little place is rapidly

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increasing, and promises to be a town of considerable tnde. It
is situated at a spot which seems likely to become a port for
shipping to Princeton and a pretty large district of Indiana. I
find that the land speculators have made entry of the most eligible
tracts of land, which will impede the partial, though not the final
progress of population and improvement in this part of the state.

902. On our way to Princeton, we see large flocks of fine wild
turkeys, and whole herds of pigs, apparently very fat. The pigs
are wild also, but have become so from neglect. Some of the
inhabitants, who prefer sport to work, live by shooting these wild
turkeys and pigs, and, indeed, sometimes, I understand, they
shoot and carry off those of their neighbours before they are
wild.

903. June 25th. — Arrived at Princeton, Indiana, about 20 miles
from the river. I was sorry to see very little doing in this town.
They cannot all keep stores and taverns ! One of the store
keepers told me he does not sell more than ten thousand dollars
value per annum : he ought, then, to manufacture something
and not spend nine tenths of his time in lolling with a segar in his
mouth.

904. June z6th. — At Princeton, endeavouring to purchase
horses, as we had now gone far enough down the Ohio. While
waiting in our tavern, two men called in armed with rifles, and
made enquiries for some horses they suspected to be stolen.
They told us they had been almost all the way from Albany, to
Shawnee town after them, a distance of about 150 miles. I
asked them how they would be able to secure the thieves, if they
overtook them, in these wild woods ; " O " said they, " shoot
' them off the horses." This is a summary mode of executing
justice, thought I, though probably the most effectual, and, indeed,
only one in this state of society. A thief very rarely escapes here ;
not nearly so often as in more populous districts. The fact was,
in this case, however, we discovered afterwards, that the horses
had strayed away, and had returned home by this time. But,
if they had been stolen, the stealers would not have escaped.
When the loser is tired, another will take up the pursuit, and the
whole country is up in arms till he is found.

905. June 2jth. — Still at Princeton. At last we get suited with
horses. Mine costs me only 135 dollars with the bridle and
saddle, and that I am told is 18 dollars too much.

906. June 28th. — Left Princeton, and set out to see Mr. Birk-
beck's settlement, in Illinois, about 35 miles from Princeton.
Before we got to the Wabash we had to cross a swamp of half a
mile wide ; we were obliged to lead our horses, and walk up to
the knees in mud and water. Before we got half across we began
to think of going back ; but, there is a sound bottom under it
all, and we waded through it as well as we could. It is, in fact,
nothing but a bed of very soft and rich land, and only wants
draining to be made productive. We soon after came to the

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banks of the great Wabash, which is here about half a mile broad,
and as the ferryboat was crossing over with us I amused myself
by washing my dirty boots. Before we mounted again we hap
pened to meet with a neighbour of Mr. Birkbeck's, who was
returning home ; we accompanied him, and soon entered into the
prairie lands, up to our horses' bellies in fine grass. These
prairies, which are surrounded with lofty woods, put me in mind
of immense noblemen's parks in England. Some of those we
passed over are called wet prairies, but, they are dry at this time
of the year ; and, as they are none of them flat, they need but very
simple draining to carry off the water all the year round. Our
horses were very much tormented with flies, some as large as the
English horse-fly and some as large as the wasp ; these flies infest
the prairies that are unimproved about three months in the year,
but go away altogether as soon as cultivation begins.

907. Mr. Birkbeck's settlement is situated between the two
Wabashes, and is about ten miles from the nearest navigable water ;
we arrived there about sun-set, and met with a welcome which
amply repaid us for our day's toil. We found that gentleman with
his two sons perfectly healthy and in high spirits : his daughters
were at Henderson (a town in Kentucky, on the Ohio) on a visit.
At present his habitation is a cabin, the building of which cost only
20 dollars ; this little hutch is near the spot where he is about to
build his house, which he intends to have in the most eligible
situation in the prairie for convenience to fuel and for shelter in
winter, as well as for breezes in summer, and will, when that is
completed, make one of its appurtenances. I like this plan of
keeping the old log-house ; it reminds the grand children and
their children's children of what their ancestor has done for their
sake.

908. Few settlers had as yet joined Mr. Birkbeck ; that is to
say, settlers likely to become " society " ; he has labourers enough
near him, either in his own houses or on land of their own joining
his estate. He was in daily expectation of his friends Mr.
Flower's family, however, with a large party besides ; they had
just landed at Shawnee Town, about 20 miles distant. Mr.

Birkbeck informs me he has made entry of a large tract of land,
lying, part of it, all the way from his residence to the great Wabash ;
this he will re-sell again in lots to any of his friends, they taking
as much of it and wherever they choose (provided it be no more
than they can cultivate), at an advance which I think very fair
and liberal.

909. The whole of his operations had been directed hitherto
(and wisely in my opinion) to building, fencing, and other
important preparations. He had done nothing in the cultivating
way but make a good garden, which supplies him with the only
things that he cannot purchase, and, at present, perhaps, with
more economy than he could grow them. He is within twenty
miles of Harmony, in Indiana, where he gets his flour and^all

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other necessaries (the produce of the country), and therefore
employs himself much better in making barns and houses and
mills for the reception and disposal of his crops, and fences to
preserve them while growing, before he grows them, than to get
the crops first. I have heard it observed that any American settler,
even without a dollar in his pocket, would have had something
grozving by this time. Very true ! I do not question that at all ;
for, the very first care of a settler without a dollar in his pocket
is to get something to eat, and, he would consequently set to work
scratching up the earth, fully confident that after a long summering
upon wild flesh (without salt, perhaps) his own belly would stand
him for barn, if his jaws would not for mill. But the case is very
different with Mr. Birkbeck, and at present he has need for no
other provision for winter but about a three hundredth part of
his fine grass turned into hay, which will keep his necessary horses
and cows ; besides which he has nothing that eats but such pigs
as live upon the waste, and a couple of fine young deer (which
would weigh, they say when full grown, 200 Ibs. dead weight),
that his youngest son is rearing up as pets.

910. I very much admire Mr. Birkbeck's mode of fencing. He
makes a ditch 4 feet wide at top, sloping to i foot wide at bottom,
and 4 feet deep. With the earth that comes out of the ditch he
makes a bank on one side, which is turfed towards the ditch.
Then a long pole is put up from the bottom of the ditch to 2 feet
above the bank ; this is crossed by a short pole from the other
side, and then a rail is laid along between the forks. The banks
were growing beautifully, and looked altogether very neat as well
as formidable ; though a live hedge (which he intends to have)
instead of dead poles and rails, upon top, would make the fence
far more effectual as well as handsomer. I am always surprized,
until I reflect how universally and to what a degree, farming is
neglected in this country, that this mode of fencing is not adopted
in cultivated districts, especially where the land is wet, or lies
low , for, there it answers a double purpose, being as effectual
a drain as it is a fence.

911. I was rather disappointed, or sorry, at any rate, not to find
near Mr. Birkbeck's any of the means for machinery or of the
materials for manufactures, such as the water-falls, and the
minerals and mines, which are possessed in such abundance by
the states of Ohio and Kentucky, and by some parts of Pennsyl
vania. Some of these, however, he may yet find. Good water
he has, at any rate. He showed me a well 25 feet deep, bored
partly through hard substances near the bottom, that was nearly
overflowing with water of excellent quality.

912. July ist. — Left Mr. Birkbeck's for Harmony, Indiana.
The distance by the direct way is about 18 miles, but there is no
road, as yet ; indeed, it was often with much difficulty that we
could discover the way at all. After we had crossed the Wabash,
which we did at a place called Davis 's Ferry, we hired a man to

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conduct us some part of the way through the woods. In about
a mile he brought us to a track, which was marked out by slips
of bark being stripped off the trees, once in about 40 yards ; he
then left us, and told us we could not mistake if we followed that
track. We soon lost all appearance of the track, however, and of
the " blazing " of the trees, as they call it ; but, as it was useless
to go back again for another guide, our only way was to keep
straight on in the same direction, bring us where it would. Having
no compass, this nearly cost us our sight, for it was just mid-day,
and we had to gaze at the sun a long time before we discovered
what was our course. After this we soon, to our great joy, found
ourselves in a large corn field ; rode round it, and came to John
son's Ferry, a place where a Bayou (Boyaii) of the Wabash is
crossed. This Bayou is a run out of the main river, round a flat
portion of land, which is sometimes overflowed : it is part of the
same river, and the land encompassed by it, an island. Crossed
this ferry in a canoe, and got a ferry-man to swim our horses after
us. Mounted again and followed a track which brought us to
Black River, which we forded without getting wret, by holding
our feet up. After crossing the river we found a man who was
kind enough to shew us about half a mile through the woods, by
which our journey was shortened five or six miles. He put us into
a direct track to Harmony, through lands as rich as a dung-hill,
and covered with immense timber ; we thanked him, and pushed
on our horses with eager curiosity to see this far-famed Harmonist
Society.

913. On coming within the precincts of the Harmonites we
found ourselves at the side of the Wabash again ; the river on
our right hand, and their lands on our left. Our road now lay
across a field of Indian corn, of, at the very least, a mile in width,
and bordering the town on the side we entered ; I wanted nothing
more than to behold this immense field of most beautiful corn to
be at once convinced of all I had heard of the industry of this
society of Germans, and I found, on proceeding a little farther,
that the progress they had made exceeded all my idea of it.

914. The town is methodically laid out in a situation well
chosen in all respects ; the houses are good and clean, and have,
each one, a nice garden well stocked with all vegetables and tastily
ornamented with flowers. I observe that these people are very
fond of flowers, by the bye ; the cultivation of them, and musick,
are their chief amusements. I am sorry to see this, as it is to me
a strong symptom of simplicity and ignorance, if not a badge of
their German slavery. Perhaps the pains they take with them
is the cause of their flowers being finer than any I have hitherto
seen in America, but, most probably, the climate here is more
favourable. Having refreshed ourselves at the Tavern, where
we found every thing we wanted for ourselves and our horses,
and all very clean and nice, besides many good things we did not
expect, such as beer, porter, and even wine, all made within the

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Society, and very good indeed, we then went out to see the people
at their harvest, which was just begun. There were 150 men and
women all reaping in the same field of wheat. A beautiful sight !
The crop was very fine, and the field, extending to about two
miles in length, and from half a mile to a mile in width, was all
open to one view, the sun shining on it from the West, and the
reapers advancing regularly over it,

915. At sun-set all the people came in, from the fields, work
shops, mills, manufactories, and from all their labours. This
being their evening for prayer during the week, the Church bell
called them out again, in about 15 minutes, to attend a lecture
from their High Priest and Law-giver, Mr. George Rapp. We
went to hear the lecture, or, rather, to see the performance, for,
it being all performed in German, we could understand not a
word. The people were all collected in a twinkling, the men at
one end of the Church and the women at the other ; it looked
something like a Quaker Meeting, except that there was not a
single little child in the place. Here they were kept by their
Pastor a couple of hours, after which they returned home to bed.
This is the quantum of Church-service they perform during the
week ; but on Sundays they are in Church nearly the whole of
the time from getting up to going to bed. When it happens that
Mr. Rapp cannot attend, either by indisposition or other accident,
the Society still meet as usual, and the elders (certain of the most
trusty and discreet, whom the Pastor selects as a sort of assistants
in his divine commission) converse on religious subjects.

916. Return to the Tavern to sleep ; a good comfortable house,
well kept by decent people, and the master himself, who is very
intelligent and obliging, is one of the very few at Harmony who
can speak English. Our beds were as good as those stretched
upon by the most highly pensioned and placed Boroughmongers,
and our sleep, I hope, much better than the tyrants ever get, in
spite of ail their dungeons and gags.

917. July 2nd. — Early in the morning, took a look at the manu
facturing establishment, accompanied by our Tavern-keeper.
I find great attention is paid to this branch of their affairs. Their
principle is, not to be content with the profit upon the manual
labour of raising the article, but also to have the benefit of the
machine in preparing it for use. I agree with them perfectly,
and only wish the subject was as well understood all over the
United States as it is at Harmony. It is to their skill in this way
that they owe their great prosperity ; if they had been nothing but
farmers, they would be now at Harmony in Pennsylvania, poor
cultivators, getting a bare subsistence, instead of having doubled
their property two or three times over, by which they have been
able to move here and select one of the choicest spots in the
country.

918. But, in noting down the state of this Society, as it now is,
its origin should not be forgotten ; the curious history of it serves

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as an explanation to the jumble of sense and absurdity in the
association. I will therefore trace the Harmonist Society from
its outset in Germany to this place.

919. The Sect had its origin at Wurtembeig in Germany, about
40 years ago, in the person of its present Pastor and Master,
George Rapp, who, by his own account, " having long seen and
felt the decline of the Church, found himself impelled to bear
testimony to the fundamental principles of the Christian
Religion ; and, finding no toleration for his inspired doctrines,
or for those who adopted them, he determined with his followers
to go to that part of the earth where they were free to worship
God according to the dictates of their conscience." In other
words (I suppose), he had long beheld and experienced the slavery
and misery of his country, and, feeling in his conscience that he
was bom more for a ruler than for a slave, found himself im
periously called upon to collect together a body of his poor
countrymen and to lead them into a land of liberty and abundance.
However, allowing him to have had no other than his professed
views, he, after he had got a considerable number of proselytes,
amounting to seven or eight hundred persons, among whom were
a sufficiency of good labourers and artizans in all the essential
branches of workmanship and trade, besides farmers, he embodied
them into a Society, and then came himself to America (not
trusting to Providence to lead the way) to seek out the land
destined for these chosen children. Having done so, and laid
the plan for his route to the land of peace and Christian love,
with a foresight which shows him to have been by no means
unmindful to the temporal prosperity of the Society, he then
landed his followers in separate bodies, and prudently led them
in that order to a resting place within Pennsylvania, choosing
rather to retard their progress through the wilderness than to
hazard the discontent that might arise from want and fatigue in
traversing it at once. When they were all arrived, Rapp con
stituted them into one body, having every thing in common, and
called the settlement Harmony. This constitution he found
authorized by the passage in Acts, iv, 32. " And the multitude
" of them that believed were of one heart, and of one soul :
" neither said any of them that aught of the things he possessed
' was his own, but that they had all things common." Being thus
associated, the Society went to work, early in 1805, building
houses and clearing lands, according to the order and regulations
of their leader ; but, the community of stock, or the regular
discipline, or the restraints which he had reduced them to, and
which were essential to his project, soon began to thin his followers,
and principally, too, those of them who had brought most sub
stance into the society ; they demanded back their original
portions and set out to seek the Lord by themselves. This falling
off of the society, though it was but small, comparatively, in point
of numbers, was a great reduction from their means ; they had

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calculated what they should want to consume, and had laid the
rest out in land ; so that the remaining part were subjected to
great hardships and difficulties for the first year or two of their
settling, which was during the time of their greatest labours.
However, it was not long before they began to reap the fruits of
their toil, and in the space of six or seven years their settlement
became a most flourishing colony. During that short space of
time they brought into cultivation 3,000 acres of land (a third of
their whole estate), reared a flock of nearly 2,000 sheep, and
planted hop-gardens, orchards, and vineyards ; built barns and
stables to house their crops and their live stock, granaries to keep
one year's produce of grain always in advance, houses to make
their cyder, beer, and wine in, and good brick or stone ware
houses for their several species of goods ; constructed distilleries,
mills for grinding, sawing, making oil, and, indeed, for every
purpose, and machines for manufacturing their various materials
for clothing and other uses ; they had, besides, a store for retailing
Philadelphia goods to the country, and nearly 100 good dwelling-
houses of wood, a large stone-built tavern, and, as a proof of
superabundance, a dwelling-house and a meeting-house (alias
the parsonage and church) which they had neatly built of brick.
And, besides all these improvements within the society, they did
a great deal of business, principally in the way of manufacturing,
for the people of the country. They worked for them with their
mills and machines, some of which did nothing else, and their
blacksmiths, tailors, shoe-makers, &c., when not employed by
themselves, were constantly at work for their neighbours. Thus
this everlastingly-at-work band of emigrants increased their stock
before they quitted their first colony, to upwards of two hundred
thousand dollars, from, probably, not one fifth of that sum.
What will not unceasing perseverance accomplish ? Butv with
judgment and order to direct it, what in the world can stand
against it !*

920. In comparing the state of this society as it now is with
what it was in Pennsylvania it is just the same as to plan : the
temporal and spiritual affairs are managed in the same way and
upon the same principles, only both are more flourishing. Rapp
has here brought his disciples into richer land, and into a situation
better in every respect, both for carrying on their trade, and for
keeping to their faith ; their vast extent of land is, they sa?/, four
feet deep of rich mould, nearly the whole of it, and it lies along the
banks of a fine navigable river on one side, while the possibility
of much interruption from other classes of Christians is effectually
guarded against by an endless barricado of woods on the other
side. Bringing the means and experience acquired at their first
establishment, they have of course gone on improving and in
creasing (not in population) at a much greater rate. One of their

* A more detailed account of this society, tip to the year 1811,
will be found in Mr. Mellish's Travels, vol. 2.

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JOURNAL

greatest improvements, they tell me, is the working of their mills
and manufacturing machines by steam ; they feel the advantage
of this more and more every year. They are now preparing to
build a steam-boat ; this is to be employed in their traffick with
New Orleans, carrying their own surplus produce and returning
with tea, coffee, and other commodities for their own consumption,
and to retail to the people of the country. I believe they advance,
too, in the way of ornaments and superfluities, for the dwelling-
house they have now built their pastor, more resembles a Bishop's
Palace than what I should figure to myself as the humble abode
of a teacher of the " fundamental principles of the Christian
" Religion."

921 . The government of this society is by bands, each consisting
of a distinct trade or calling. They have a foreman to each band,
who rules it under the general direction of the society, the law-
giving power of which is in the High Priest. He cannot, however
make laws without the consent of the parties. The manufacturing
establishment, and the mercantile affairs and public accounts are
all managed by one person ; he, I believe, is one of the sons of
Rapp. They have a bank, where a separate account is kept for
each person ; if any one puts in money, or has put in money, he
may, on certain conditions as to time, take it out again. They
labour and possess in common ; that is to say, except where it
is not practicable or is immaterial, as with their houses, gardens,
cows and poultry, which they have to themselves, each family.
They also retain what property each may bring on joining the
concern, and he may demand it in case of leaving the society, but
without interest.

922. Here is certainly a wonderful example of the effects of skill,
industry, and force combined : this congregation of far-seeing,
ingenious, crafty, and bold, and of ignorant, simple, superstitious,
and obedient, Germans, has shown what may be done. But,
their example, I believe, will generally only tend to confirm this
free people in their suspicion that labour is concomitant to slavery
or ignorance. Instead of their improvements, and their success
and prosperity altogether, producing admiration, if not envy,
they have a social discipline, the thought of which reduces these
feelings to ridicule and contempt : that is to say, with regard to
the mass : with respect to their leaders, one's feelings are apt to be
stronger. A fundamental of their religious creed (" restraining
clause" a Chancery Lawyer would call it) requires restrictions
on the propagation of the species ; it orders such regulations as
are necessary to prevent children coming but once in a certain
number of years ; and this matter is so arranged that, when they
come, they come in little flocks, all within the same month,
perhaps, like a farmer's lambs. The Law-giver here made a
famously " restraining statute " upon the law of nature ! This
way of expounding law seems to be a main point of his policy ;
he by this means keeps his associates from increasing to an unruly

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JOURNAL

number within, while more are sure not to come in from with
out ; and, I really am afraid he will go a good way towards securing
a monopoly of many great improvements in agriculture, both as to
principle and method. People see the fine fields of the Har-
monites, but, the prospect comes damped with the idea of bondage
and celibacy. It is a curious society : was ever one heard of
before that did not wish to increase ! This smells strong of
policy ; some distinct view in the leaders, no doubt. Who
would be surprized if we were to see a still more curious society
by and bye ? A Society Sole ! very far from improbable, if the
sons of Rapp (for he has children, nevertheless, as well as Parson
Malthus) and the Elders were to die, it not being likely that they
will renounce or forfeit their right to the common stock. We
should then have societies as well as corporations vested in one
person ! That would be quite a novel kind of benefice ! but, not
the less fat. I question whether the associated person of Mr.
Rapp would not be in possession of as fine a domain and as many
good things as the incorporated person of an Archbishop : nay,
he would rival the Pope ! But, to my journal.

923. Arrive at Princeton in the evening ; a good part of our road
lay over the fine lands of the Harmonites. I understand, by the
bye, that the title deeds to these lands are taken in the name of
Rapp and of his associates. Poor associates : if they do but rebel !
Find the same store-keepers and tavern keepers in the same
attitudes that we left them in the other day. Their legs only a
little higher than their heads, and segars in their mouths ; a fine
position for business ! It puts my friend in mind of the Roman
posture in dining.

924. July yrd. — At Princeton all day. This is a pretty con
siderable place ; very good as to buildings ; but, is too much
inland to be a town of any consequence until the inhabitants do
that at home which they employ merchants and foreign manu
facturers to do for them. Pay i dollar for a set of old shoes to
my horse, half the price of new ones.

925. July ^th. — Leave Princeton ; in the evening, reach a place
very appropriately called Mud-holes, after riding 46 miles over
lands in general very good but very little cultivated, and that
little very badly ; the latter part of the journey in company with
a Mr. Jones from Kentucky. Nature is the agriculturist here ;
speculation, instead of cultivation, is the order of the day amongst
men. We feel the ill effects of this in the difficulty of getting
oats for our horses. However, the evil is unavoidable, if it really
can be called an evil. As well might I grumble that farmers have
not taken possession as complain that men of capital have. Labour
is the thing wanted, but, to have that, money must come first.
This Mud-holes was a sort of fort, not 4 years ago, for guarding
against the Indians, who then committed great depredations,
killing whole families often, men, women and children. How

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JOURNAL

changeable are the affairs of this world ! I have not met with a
single Indian in the whole course of my route.

926. July 5th. — Come to Judge Chambers's, a good tavern ;
35 miles. On our way, pass French Lick, a strong spring of
water impregnated with salt and sulphur, and called I.ick from its
being resorted to by cattle for the salt ; close by this spring is
another still larger, of fine clear lime-stone water, running fast
enough to turn a mill. Some of the trees near the Judge's exhibit
a curious spectacle ; a large piece of wood appears totally dead,
all the leaves brown and the branches broken, from being roosted
upon lately by an enormous multitude of pigeons. A novel sight
for us, unaccustomed to the abundance of the back-woods !
No tavern but this, nor house of any description, within many
miles.

927. July 6th. — Leave the Judge's, still in company with Mr.
Jones. Ride 25 miles to breakfast, not sooner finding feed for our

horses ; this was at the dirty log- house of Mr. who

has a large farm with a grist-mill on it, and keeps his yard and
stables ancle deep in mud and water. If this were not one of the
healthiest climates in the world, he and his family must have died
in all this filth. About 13 miles further, come to New Albany,
where we stop at Mr. Jenkins's, the best tavern we have found in
Indiana, that at Harmony excepted.

928. July 7th. — Resting at New Albany. We were amused by
hearing a Quaker-lady preach to the natives. Her first words
were " all the nations of the earth are of one blood." " So," said
I to myself, " this question, which has so long perplexed philo-
" sophers, divines and physicians, is now set at rest ! " She
proceeded to vent her rage with great vehemence against hireling
priests and the trade of preaching in general, and closed with
dealing out large portions of brimstone to the drunkard and still
larger and hotter to those who give the bottle to drink. This
part of her discourse pleased me very much, and may be a saving
to me into the bargain ; for, the dread of everlasting roasting
added to my love of economy will (I think) prevent me making
my friends tipsy. A very efficacious sermon !

929. July 8th. — Jenkins's is a good tavern, but it entertains at a
high price. Our bill was 6 dollars each for a day and two nights ;
a shameful charge. Leave New Albany, cross the Ohio, and pass
through Louisville in Kentucky again, on our way to Lexington,
the capital. Stop for the night at Mr. Netherton's, a good
tavern. The land hitherto is good, and the country altogether
healthy, if I may judge from the people, who appear more cheerful
and happy than in Indiana, always excepting Harmony. Our
landlord is the picture of health and strength : 6 feet 4 inches
high, weighs 300 Ibs., and not fat.

930. July gth. — Dine at Mr. Overton's tavern, on our way to
Frankfort ; pay half a dollar each for an excellent dinner, with as

JOURNAL

much brandy and butter-milk as we chose to drink, and good feed
for our horses. In the afternoon we have the pleasure to be over
taken by two ladies on horse-back, and have their agreeable
company for a mile or two. On their turning off from our road
we were very reluctantly obliged to refuse an obliging invitation
to drink tea at their house, and myself the more so, as one of the
ladies informed me she had married a Mr. Constantine, a gentle
man from my own native town of Bolton, in Lancashire. But,
we had yet so far to go, and it was getting dark. This most
healthful mode of travelling is universal in the Western States,
and it gives me great pleasure to see it ; though, perhaps, I have
to thank the badness of the roads as the cause. Arrive at Frank
fort, apparently a thriving town, on the side of the rough Ken
tucky river. The houses are built chiefly of brick, and the streets,
I understand, paved with limestone. Limestone abounds in this
state, and yet the roads are not good, though better than in
Indiana and Ohio, for, there, there are none. I wonder the
governments of these states do not set about making good roads
and bridges, and even canals. I pledge myself to be able to shew
them how the money might be raised, and, moreover, to prove
that the expence would be paid over and over again in almost no
time. Such improvements would be income to the governments
instead of expence, besides being such an incalculable benefit to
the states. But, at any rate, why not roads, and in this state, too,
which is so remarkable for its quality of having good road materials
and rich land together, generally, all over it ?

931. July loth. — Leave Frankfort, and come through a district
of fine land, very well watered, to Lexington ; stop at Mr. Keen's
tavern. Had the good fortune to meet Mr. Clay, who carried us
to his house, about a mile in the country. It is a beautiful resi
dence, situated near the centre of a very fine farm, which is just
cleared and is corning into excellent cultivation. I approve of
Mr. Clay's method very much, especially in laying down pasture.
He clears away all the brush or underwood, leaving timber enough
to afford a sufficiency of shade to the grass, which does not thrive
here exposed to the sun, as in England and other such climates.
By this means he has as fine grass and clover as can possibly grow.
I could not but admire to see this gentleman ; possessing so much
knowledge and of so much weight in his country's affairs, so
attentively promoting her not less important though more silent
interests by improving her agriculture. What pleased me still
more, however, because I less expected it, was, to hear Mrs.
Clay, in priding herself on the state of society, and the rising
prosperity of the country, citing as a proof the decency and
affluence of the trades-people and mechanics at Lexington, many
of whom ride about in their own carriages. What a contrast,
both in sense and in sentiment, between this lady and the wives
of Legislators (as they are called), in the land of the Borough-
mongers ! God grant that no privileged batch ever rise up in
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America, for then down come the mechanics, are harnessed them
selves, and half ridden to death.

932. July nth. — This is the hottest day we have had yet.
Thermometer at 90 degrees, in shade. Met a Mr. Whittemore,
from Boston, loud in the praise of this climate. He informed me
he had lately lost his wife and five children near Boston, arid that
he should have lost his only remaining child, too, a son now stout
and healthy, had he not resolved instantly to try the air of the west.
He is confident that if he had taken this step in time he might have
saved the lives of all his family. This might be, however, and
yet this climate not better than that of Boston. Spent the evening
with Colonel Morrison, one of the first settlers in this state ; a
fine looking old gentleman, with colour in his face equal to a
London Alderman. The people here are pretty generally like
that portion of the people of England who get porridge enough
to eat ; stout, fat, and ruddy.

933- July izih. — Hotter than yesterday ; thermometer at 91
degrees.

934. July i^th. — Leave Lexington ; stop at Paris, 22 miles.
A fine country all the way ; good soil, plenty of limestone and no
musquitoes. Paris is a healthy town, with a good deal of stir ;
woollen and cotton manufactures are carried on here, but upon a
small scale. They are not near enough to good coal mines to do
much in that way! What they do, however, is well paid for. A
spinner told me he gets 83 cents per Ib. for his twist, which is 33
cents more than it would fetch at New York. Stop at Mr.
Timberlake's, a good house. The bar-keeper, who comes from
England tells me that he sailed to Canada, but he is glad he had
the means to leave Canada and come to Kentucky : he has 300
dollars a year, and board and lodging. Made enquiry after young
Watson, but find he has left this place and is gone to Lexington.

935. The following is a list of the wages and prices of the most
essential branches of workmanship and articles of consumption,
as they are here at present.

Journeymen saddlers' price for
drawing on men's saddles

Journeymen blacksmiths, per day
per month

Tourney men hatters (casters)

Ditto, rorum ....

Ditto for finishing, per month
and found

Journeymen shoe-makers (coarse)

Dolls.

Cents.

Dolls.

Cents

*i

25 to

2

So

i

. -

I

25

25

. -

30

i

25

i

•

30

,

75

* Or, 5s. 7£d. to 11s. 3d. sterling. At the present rate of ex
change, a dollar is equivalent to 4s. 6d. sterling, and a cent is
the hundredth part of a dollar.

JOURNAL

Dolls.

Cents.

Dolls.

Cents

Journeymen shoe-makers (fine] .

i

25

Ditto, for boots

3

25

Journeymen tailors, by the coat

5

Stone-masons or bricklayers, per

day .....

i

. to

i

50

Carpenters, per day, and found

i

. '

Salary for a clerk, per annum .

200

500

Beef, per 100 Ibs.

6

.

1

Flour, per barrel

6

»

}

936. July i4th. — Hot again ; 90 degrees. Arrive at Blue Licks,
close by the fine Licking Creek, 22 miles from Paris. Here is a
sulphur and salt spring like that at French Lick in Indiana, which
makes this a place of great resort in summer for the fashionable
swallowers of mineral waters ; the three or four taverns are at this
time completely crowded. Salt was made till latterly at this
spring, by an old Scotsman ; he now attends the ferry across the
Creek. Not much to be said for the country round here ; it is
stony and barren, what I have not seen before in Kentucky.

937. July I5th. — To Maysville, or Limestone, 24 miles. This
is a place on the banks of the Ohio, and is a sort of port for shipping
down the river to a great part of that district of the state for which
Louisville is the shipping port to and from New Orleans. Still
hot ; 90 degrees again. This is the fifth day ; rather unusual,
this continuance of heat. The hot spells as well as the cold spells,
seldom last more than three days, pretty generally in America.

938.^/3; i6th. — Hot still, but a fine breeze blowing up the river.
Not a bit too hot for me, but the natives say it is the hottest weather
they recollect in this country ; a proof to me that this is a mild
climate, as to heat, at any rate. Saw a cat-fish in the market,
just caught out of the river by a hook and line, 4 feet long and
eighty pounds weight, offered for 2 dollars. Price of flour, 6
dollars a barrel ; fresh beef, 6£ cents, and butter 20 cents per Ib.

939. July i^th. — Set out again, crossing the Ohio into the state
of that name, and take the road to Chillicothe, 74 miles from
Maysville. Stop about mid-way for the night, travelling over a
country generally hilly, and not of good soil, and passing through
West Union, a place situated as a town ought to be, upon high and
unlevel lands ; the inhabitants have fine air to breathe, and plenty
of food to eat and drink, and, if they keep their houses and streets
and themselves clean, I will ensure them long lives. Some pretty
good farms in view of the road, but many abandoned for the richer
lands of Indiana and Illinois. Travelling expences much less,
hitherto, than in Indiana and some parts of Kentucky ; we had
plenty of good butter-milk at the farm houses all along the road,
free of expence, and the tavern-keepers do not set before us bread
made of Indian corn, which we have not yet learned to like very
cordially.

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940. July iSth. — Come to Chillicothe, the country improving
and more even as we proceed. See some very rich lands on
passing Paint Creek, and on approaching the Scioto river ; these,
like all the bottom lands, having a coat of sediment from their
river in addition to the original soil, are by far the richest. Chilli
cothe is a handsome town, regularly laid out, but, stands upon a
flat. I hate the very sight of a level street, unless there be every
thing necessary to carry off all filth and water. The air is very
fine, so far as it is not contaminated by the pools of water which
stand about the town as green as grass. Main sewers, like those
at Philadelphia, are much wanted.

941. July if)th. — Called upon Mr. Bond, being introduced by
letter, and spent a very pleasant evening with him and a large
party of his agreeable friends. Left them, much pleased with the
society of Chillicothe.

042. July 2Oth. — We were introduced to Governor Worthington,
who lives about 2 miles from the town. He took us to his house,
and showed us part of his fine estate, which is 800 acres in extent,
and all of it elevated table land, commanding an immense view
over the flat country in the direction of Lake Erie. The soil is
very rich indeed ; so rich, that the Governor pointed cut a dung
heap which was bigger than the barn it surrounded and had
grown out of, as a nuisance. The labour of dragging the dung
out of the way, would be more than the cost of removing the
barn, so that he is actually going to pull the barn down, and build
it up again in another place. This is not a peculiarity of this
particular spot of land, for manure has no value here at all. All
the stable-dung made at Chillicothe is flung into the river. I dare
say, that the Inn we put up at does not tumble into the water less
than 300 good loads of horse-dung every year.

943. I had some conversation with Governor Worthington on
the subject of domestic manufactures, and was glad to find he is
well convinced of the necessity of, or at least of the great benefit
that would result from, the general establishment of them in the
United States. He has frequently recommended it in his public
capacity, he informed me, and I hope he will advocate it with
effect. He is a true lover of his country, and no man that I have
met with has a more thorough knowledge of the detestable villainy
of the odious Boroughmongering government of England, and,
of course, it has his full share of hatred.

944. July 21 st. — Leave Chillicothe. A fine, healthy country
and very rich land all the way to New Lancaster,. 34 miles from
Chillicothe, and 38 from Zanesbille. Stop at the house of a
German, where we slept, but not in bed, preferring a soft board
and something clean for a pillow to a bed of down accompanied
with bugs.

945. Nothing remarkable, that I can see, as to the locality of
this town of New Lancaster : but, the name, alas ! it brought to
tny recollection the horrid deeds done at Old Lancaster, the

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county town of my native county ! I thought of Colonel F r,

and his conduct towards my poor, unfortunate townsman,
Gallant ! I thought of the poor, miserable creatures, men,
women, and children, who, in the bloody year of 1812, were first
instigated by spies to commit arson, and then pursued into death
by the dealers in human blood. Amongst the sufferers, upon
this particular occasion, there was a boy, who was silly, and who
would, at any time, have jumped into a pit for a half-penny :
he was not fourteen years old ; and when he was about to be
hanged, actually called out for his " mammy " to come and save
him ! Who, that has a heart in his bosom, can help feeling
indignation against the cruel monsters ! Who can help feeling
a desire to see their dreadful power destroyed ! The day must
come, when the whole of the bloody tragedies of Lancashire will
be exposed. In the mean while, here I am in safety from the
fangs of the monsters, who oppress and grind my countrymen.
The thought of these oppressions, however, I carry about with
me ; and I cannot help its sometimes bursting forth into words.

946. July 22nd. — Airive at Zanesville,* a place finely situated
for manufactures, in a nook of the Muskingham, just opposite
to the mouth of Licking Creek. It has almost every advantage
for manufacturing of all sorts, both as to local situation and as to
materials ; it excels Wheeling and Steubenville, in many respects,
and, in some, even Pittsburgh. The river gives very fine falls
near the town, one of them of 12 feet, where it is 600 feet wide ;
the creek, too, falls in by a fine cascade. What a power for
machinery ! I should think that as much effect might be pro
duced by the power here afforded as by the united manual labour
of all the inhabitants of the state. The navigation is very good all
the way up to the town, and is now continued round the falls by a
canal with locks, so that boats can go nearly close up to Lake
Erie. The bowels of the earth afford coal, iron ore, stone, free
stone, lime-stone, and clays ; all of the best, I believe, and the
last, the very best yet discovered in this country, and, perhaps,
as good as is to be found in any country. All these materials are
found in inexhaustible quantities in the hills and little ridges on
the sides of the river and creek, arranged as if placed by the hand
of man for his own use. In short, this place has the four elements
in the greatest perfection that I have any where yet seen in
America. As to manufactures, it is, like Wheeling and Steu
benville, nothing in comparison to Pittsburgh.

947. Nature has done her part ; nothing is left wanting but
machines to enable the people of Ohio to keep their flour at home,
instead of exporting it, at their own expence, to support those
abroad who are industrious enough to send them back coats,
knives, and cups and saucers.

* For a more particular account of this place, as well, indeed,
as of most of the other towns I have visited, see Mr. Mellish's
Travels, vol. ii.

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JOURNAL

948. July 23rd. — All day at Zanesville. Spent part of it very
agreeably with Mr. Adams the post-master, and old Mr. Dillon
who has a large iron foundery near this.

g^g.July 24th. — Go with Mr. Dillon about 3 miles up the Creek,
to see his mills and iron-factory establishment. He has here a
very fine water-fall, of 18 feet, giving immense power, by which
he works a large iron-forge and foundery, and mills for sawing,
grinding, and other purposes.

950. I will here subjoin a list of the prices at Zanesville, of
provisions, stock, stores, labour, £c., just as I have it from a
resident, whom I can rely upon.

Dolls.

Cents

Dolls.

Cents

Flour (superfine), per barrel of

196 Ibs. from

5

. to

5

75

Beef, per 100 Ibs.

4

_

4

25

Pork (prime), per 100 Ibs.

4

50 -

5

Salt, per bushel of 50 Ibs.

2

25

Potatoes, per bushel

,

25 ~

3-i*

Turnips, ditto

,

20

Wheat, do . of 60 Ibs . to 66 Ibs .

§

75

Indian Corn, ditto, shelled

§

33i~

(

5°

Oats, ditto ....

.

25 -

.

33*

t?o

Barley, ditto ....

j^
75

Turkeys, of from 12 Ibs. to 20

Ibs. each ....

t

37*-

50

Fowls .

§

i**-

i8|

Live Hogs, per 100 Ibs., live

weight ....

3

. —

5

t

Cows (the best)

18

_

25

9

Yoke of Oxen, ditto

50

_

75

Sheep .....

2

50

Hay, per ton, delivered

9

10

f

Straw, fetch it and have it.

Manure, ditto, ditto.

Coals, per bushel, delivered

.

8

Butter, per Ib. avoirdupois

,

«*-

i8|

Cheese, ditto, ditto . . .

,

I2$-

25

Loaf Sugar . • ;, .

t

50

Raw ditto ...

,

31*

Domestic Raw ditto

,

i8f

Merino Wool, per Ib. av6irdupois

washed .

i

Three-quarter Merino ditto

.

75

Common Wool

50

Bricks, per 1000, delivered

6

. to

7

•

226

JOURNAL

Dolls.

Cents.

Dolls.

Cents.

Lime, per bushel, ditto

• .

i82

Sand, in abundance on the banks

of the river

Glass is sold in boxes, containing

100 square feet ; of the

common size there are 180

panes in a box, when the price

is .....

14

.

The price rises in proportion

to the size of the panes.

Oak planks, i inch thick, per 100

square feet, at the saw-mill

i

So

Poplar, the same.

White Lead, per 100 Ibs. de

livered ....

i?

,

Red ditto ....

i?

,

Litharge ....

15

,

Pig Lead

9

So

Swedish Iron (the best, in bars) .

14

Juniatta, ditto, ditto

14

Mr. Dillon's ditto, ditto .

12

5°

Castings at Mr. Dillon's Foun-

dery, per ton

120

,

Ditto, for machinery, ditto,

per Ib. ....

t

i 8

Potash, per ton

1 80

.

Pearl Ashes, ditto

200

Stone masons and bricklayers,

per day, and board and

9

lodging ....

I

50

Plasterers, by the square yard,

they finding themselves in

board and lodging and in

lime, sand, laths and every

thing they use

i8|-

Carpenters, by the day, who find

themselves and bring their

tools ...

I

25

Blacksmiths, by the month, and

found in board, lodging, and

tools ....

3°

. to

40

Millwrights, per day, finding

themselves . . . .

i

50 -

2

m

Tailors, per week, finding them

selves and working 14 or 15

hours a day

7

_

9

Shoemakers, the same.

!

!

227

JOURNAL

Glazier's charge for putting in
each pane of glass 8 in. by
10 in. with their own putty
and laying on the first coat of
paint . . .

Labourers, per annum, and
found ....

The charge of carriage for 100
Ibs. weight from Baltimore to
Zanesville ....

Ditto for ditto by steam-boat
from New Orleans to Shipping
port, and thence by boats, to
Zanesville, about

Peaches, as fine as can grow,
per bushel

Dolls. Cents. Dolls. Cents

4 to

10

50

25

Apples and Pears proportionately cheaper ; sometimes given
away, in the country.

951. Prices are much about the same at Steubenville ; if any
difference, rather lower. If bought in a quantity, some of the
articles enumerated might be had a good deal lower. Labour,
no doubt, if a job of some length were offered, might be got
somewhat cheaper, here.

952. July 25th. — Leave Zanesville for Pittsburgh, keeping to the
United States road ; stop at Cambridge, 25 miles. During the
first eight miles we met 10 waggons, loaded with emigrants.

953. July -2.6th. — Stop at Mr. Broadshaw's, a very good house
on the road, 25 miles from Cambridge. This general govern
ment road is by no means well laid out ; it goes straight over
the tops of the numerous little hills, up and down, up and down.
It would have been a great deal nearer in point of time, if not in
distance (though I think it would that, too), if a view had been
had to the labour of travelling over these everlasting un-
evennesses.

954. July 2,7th. — To Wheeling in Virginia, 31 miles. They
have had tremendous rains in these parts, we hear as we pass
along, lately ; one of the creeks we came over has overflown so
as to carry down a man's house with himself and his whole family.
A dreadful catastrophe, but, certainly, one not out of the man's
power to have foreseen and prevented ; it surprizes me that the
people will stick up their houses so near the water's edge. Cross
Wheeling Creek several times to-day ; it is a rapid stream, and I
hope it will not be long before it turns many water wheels. See
much good land, and some pretty good farming.

955. July 2%th. — Went with a Mr. Graham, a Quaker of this

228

JOURNAL

place, who treated us in the most friendly and hospitable manner,
to see the new national road from Washington city to this town.
It is covered with a very thick layer of nicely broken stones, or
stone, rather, laid on with great exactness both as to depth and
width, and then rolled down with an iron roller, which reduces all
to one solid mass. This is a road made for ever ; not like the
flint roads in England, rough, nor soft or dirty, like the gravel
roads ; but, smooth and hard. When a road is made in America
it is well made. An American always plots against labour, and,
in this instance, he takes the most effectual course to circumvent
it. Mr. Graham took us likewise to see the fine coal mines near
this place and the beds of limestone and freestone, none of which
I had time to examine as we passed Wheeling in our ark. All
these treasures lie very convenient to the river. The coals are
principally in one long ridge, about 10 feet wide ; much the same
as they are at Pittsburgh, in point of quality and situation. They
cost 3 cents per bushel to be got out from the mine. This price,
as nearly as I can calculate, enables the American collier to earn,
upon an average, double the number of cents for the same labour
that the collier in England can earn ; so that, as the American
collier can, upon an average, buy his flour for one third of the
price that the English collier pays for his flour, he receives six
times the quantity of flour for the same labour. Here is a country
for the ingenious paupers of England to come to ! They find food
and materials, and nothing wanting but their mouths and hands
to consume and work them. I should like to see the old toast of
the Boroughmongers brought out again ; when they were in the
height of their impudence their myrmidons used to din in our
ears, " Old England for ever, and those that do not like her let
" them leave her." Let them renew this swaggering toast, and
I would very willingly for my part, give another to the same
effect for the United States of America. But, no, no ! they
know better now. They know that they would be taken at their
word ; and, like the tyrants of Egypt, having got their slaves fast,
will (if they can) keep them so. Let them beware, lest something
worse than the Red Sea overwhelm them ! Like Pharaoh and
his Boroughmongers they will not yield to the voice of the people,
and, surely, something like, or worse than, their fate shall befall
them !

956. They are building a steam-boat at Wheeling, which is to
go, they say, 1800 miles up the Missouri river. The wheels are
made to work in the stern of the boat, so as not to come in contact
with the floating trees, snaggs, planters,* &c., obstructions most
likely very numerous in that river. But, the placing the wheels
behind only saves them : it is no protection against the boat's
sinking in case of being pierced by a planter or sawyer. f Observing
this, I will suggest a plan which has occurred to me, and which,

* Trees tumbled head-long and fixed in the river,
t The same as a planter, only waving up and down.
229

JOURNAL

I think, would provide against sinking, effectually ; but, at any
rate, it is one which can be tried very easily and with very little
expence. — I would make a partition of strong plank ; put it in the
broadest fore-part of the boat, right across, and put good iron bolts
under the bottom of the boat, through these planks, and screw
them on the top of the deck. Then put an upright post in the
inside of the boat against the middle of the phnk partition, and
put a spur to the upright post. The partition should be water
tight. I would then load the forepart of the boat, thus partitioned
off, with lumber or such loading as is least liable to injury, and
best calculated to stop the progress of a sawyer after it has gone
through the boat. — By thus appropriating the fore-part of the
boat to the reception of planters and sawyers, it appears to me
that the other part would be secured against all intrusion.

957. July 2gth. — From Wheeling, through Charlston, changing
sides of the river again to Steubenville. My eyes were delighted
at Charlston to see the smoke of the coals ascending from the
glass-works they have here. This smoke it is that must enrich
America ; she might save almost all her dollars if she would but
bring her invaluable black diamonds into service. Talk of
independence, indeed, without coats to wear or knives or plates
to eat with !

958. At Steubenville, became acquainted with Messrs. Wills,
Ross, and company, who have an excellent and well-conducted
woollen manufactory here. They make very good cloths, and at
reasonable prices ; I am sorry they do not retail them at Phila
delphia ; I, for one, should be customer to them for all that my
family wanted in the woollen-way. Here are likewise a Cotton-
mill, a Grist-mill, a Paper-mill, an Iron-foundery and Tan-yards
and Breweries. Had the pleasure to see Mr. Wilson, the editor
of the Steubenville Gazette, a very public-spirited man, and, I
believe, very serviceable to this part of the country. If the
policy he so powerfully advocates were adopted, the effects would
be grand for America ; it would save her dollars while it would
help to draw the nails of the vile Boroughmongers. But, he has
to labour against the inveterate effects of the thing the most
difficult of all others to move — habit.

959. By what I have been able to observe of this part of the
country, those who expect to find what is generally understood
by society, pretty much the same that they have been accustomed
to it on the Atlantic side, or in England, will not be totally dis
appointed. It is here upon the basis of the same manners and
customs as in the oldest settled districts, and it there differs from
what it is in England, and here from what it is there, only ac
cording to circumstances. Few of the social amusements that
are practicable at present, are scarce ; dancing, the most rational
for every reason, is the most common ; and, in an assemblage for
this purpose, composed of the farmers' daughters and sons from
20 miles round, an Englishman (particularly if a young one)

230

JOURNAL

might very well think his travels to be all a dream, and that he
was still in a Boroughmonger country. Almost always the same
tunes and dances, same manners, same dress. Ah, it is that same
dress which is the great evil ! It may be a very pretty sight, but,
to see the dollars thus danced out of the country into the hands of
the Boroughmongers, to the tune of national airs, is a thing which,
if it do not warrant ridicule, will, if America do not, by one
unanimous voice, soon put a stop to it.

960. July 3o£/i. — From Steubenville, crossing the Ohio for the
last time, and travelling through a slip of Virginia and a handsome
part of Pennsylvania, to Pittsburgh.

961. August ist. — Sold my horse for 75 dollars, 60 dollars less
than I gave for him. A horse changes masters no where so often
as in this Western country, and no where so often rises and falls
in value. Met a Mr. Gibbs, a native of Scotland, and an old
neighbour of mine, having superintended some oil of vitriol works
near to my bleach-works on Great Lever, near Bolton, in Lanca
shire. He now makes oil of vitriol, aquafortis, salts, soap, &c.
at this place, and is, I believe, getting rich. Spent a pleasant
evening with him.

962. August 2nd. — Spent most part of the day with Mr. Gibbs,
and dined with him ; as the feast was his, I recommended him
to observe the latter part of the good Quaker Lady's sermon which
we heard at New Albany.

963. August yd. — Leave Pittsburgh, not without some regret
at bidding adieu to so much activity and smoke, for I expect not
to see it elsewhere. I like to contemplate the operation by which
the greatest effect is produced in a country. Take the same
route and the same stage as on setting out from Philadelphia.

964. August 4th, 5th, and 6th. — These three days traversing
the romantic Allegany Mountains ; got overturned (a common
accident here) only once, and then received very little damage :
myself none, some of my fellow travellers a few scratches. We
scrambled out, and, with the help of some waggoners, set the
vehicle on its wheels again, adjusted our " plunder " (as some of
the Western people call it), and drove on again without being
detained more than five minutes. The fourth night slept at
Chambersburgh, the beginning of a fine country.

965. August 7th. — Travelled over the fine limestone valley
before mentioned, and through a very good country all the way,
by Little York to Lancaster. Here I met with a person from
Philadelphia, who told me a long story about a Mr. Hulme, an
Englishman, who had brought a large family and considerable
property to America. His property, he told me, the said Mr.
Hulme had got from the English Government, for the invention
of some machine, and that now, having got rich under their
patronage, he was going about this country doing the said Govern
ment all the mischief he could, and endeavouring to promote the
interests of this country. After letting him go on till I was

231

JOURNAL

quite satisfied that he depends mainly for his bread and butter
upon the English Treasury, I said, " Well, do you know this Mr.
Hulme ? " " No, he had only heard of him." " Then I
do, and I know that he never had any patent, nor ever asked
for one, from the English government ; all he has got he has
gained by his own industry and economy, and, so far from
receiving a fortune from that vile government, he had nothing
to do with it but to pay and obey, without being allowed to
give a vote for a Member of Parliament or for any Government
Officer. He is now, thank God, in a country where he cannot
be taxed but by his own consent, and, if he should succeed in
contributing in any degree to the downfall of the English
Government, and to the improvement of this country, he
will only succeed in doing his duty." This man could be no
other than a dependent of that boroughmongering system which
has its feelers probing every quarter and corner of the earth.

966. August 8th. — Return to Philadelphia, after a journey of
72 days. My expences for this journey, including every thing,
not excepting the loss sustained by the purchase and sale of my
horse, amount to 270 dollars and 70 cents.

967. As it is now about a twelvemonth since I have been settled
in Philadelphia, or set foot in it, rather, with my family, I will take
a look at my books, and add to this Journal what have been the
expences of my family for this one year, from the time of landing
to this day, inclusive.

Dolls. Cents
House-rent . . * ' . . . . 600 o

Fuel ....... 137 o

Schooling (at day-schools) for my
children, viz. : for Thomas, 14
years of age, . . 40

Peter and John, ages of 12 and 10 .48

Sarah, 6 years of age . . . 18 — 106 o

Boarding of all my family at Mrs. Anthony's

Hotel for about a week, on our arrival . . 80 o

Expences of house-keeping (my family fourteen
in number, including two servants) with every
other out-going not enumerated above, tra
velling, incidents, two newspapers a day,
&c., &c. . 4 . . . . 2076 66

Taxes, not a cent. . . » . .00

Priest, not a cent. . . » . . o o

Total 2999 66

968. " What 1 nothing to the Parson ! " some of my old
neighbours will exclaim. No : not a single stiver. The Quakers
manage their affairs without Parsons, and I believe they are as
good and as happy a people as any religious denomination who

232

JOURNAL

are aided and assisted by a priest. I do not suppose that the
Quakers will admit me into their Society ; but, in this free country
I can form a new society, if I choose, and, if I do, it certainly shall
be a Society having a Chairman in place of a Parson, and the
assemblage shall discuss the subject of their meeting themselves-
Why should there not be as much knowledge and wisdom and
common sense, in the heads of a whole congregation, as in the
head of a Parson ? Ah, but then there are the profits arising
from the trade ! Some of this holy Order in England receive
upwards of 40,000 dollars per annum for preaching probably not
more than five or six sermons during the whole year. Well may
the Cossack Priests represent Old England as the bulwark of
religion ! This is the sort of religion they so much dreaded the
loss of during the French Revolution ; and this is the sort of
religion they so zealously expected to establish in America, when
they^received the glad tidings of the restoration of the Bourbons
and _the Pope.

END OF THE JOURNAL.

TO

MORRIS BIRKBECK, Esq.,

OF
ENGLISH PRAIRIE, ILLINOIS TERRITORY,

North Hempstead, Long Island,

10 Dec., 1818.
MY DEAR SIR,

969. I HAVE read your two little books, namely, the " Notes on
a Journey in America" and the " Letters from the Illinois." I
opened the books, and I proceeded in the perusal, with fear and
trembling : not because I supposed it possible for you to put forth
an intended imposition on the world ; but, because I had a sincere
respect for the character and talents of the writer ; and because
I knew how enchanting and delusive are the prospects of en
thusiastic minds, when bent on grand territorial acquisitions.

970. My apprehensions were, I am sorry to have it to say, but
too well founded. Your books, written, I am sure, without any
intention to deceive and decoy, and without any even the smallest
tincture of base self-interest, are, in my opinion, calculated to
produce great disappointment, not to say misery and ruin, amongst
our own country people (for I will, in spite of your disavowal,
still claim the honour of having you for a countryman), and great
injury to America by sending back to Europe accounts of that
disappointment, misery, and ruin.

971 . It is very true, that you decline advising any one to go to the
ILLINOIS, and it is also true, that your description of the hardships
you encountered is very candid ; but still, there runs throughout
the whole of your Notes such an account as to the prospect, that
is to say, the ultimate effect, that the book is, without your either
wishing or perceiving it, caloaJaJjed__tCL-4eceive and decoy. You
do indeed describe difficulties and hardsTtrr^T~HbaTrTrIen, you
overcome them all with so much ease and gaiety, that you make

235

LETTER TO

them disregarded by your English readers, who, sitting by their
fire-sides, and feeling nothing but the gripe of the Borough-
mongers and the tax-gatherer, merely cast a glance at your hard
ships and fully participate in all your enthusiasm. You do indeed
fairly describe the rugged roads, the dirty hovels, the fire in the
woods to sleep by, the pathless ways through the wildernesses,
the dangerous crossings of the rivers ; but, there are the beautiful
meadows and rich lands at last : there is the fine freehold domain
at the end ! There are the giants and the enchanters to encounter,
the slashings and the rib-roas,tings to undergo ; but then, there
is, at last, the lovely languishing damsel to repay the adventurer.

972. The whole of your writings relative to your undertaking,
address themselves directly to English Farmers, who have property
to the amount of two or three thousand pounds, or upwards.
Persons of this description are, not by your express words, but
by the natural tendency of your writings, invited, nay, strongly
invited, to emigrate with their property to the Illinois Territory.
Many have already acted upon the invitation. Many others are
about to follow them. I am convinced, that their doing this is
unwise, and greatly injurious, not only to them, but to the
character of America as a country to emigrate to, and, as I have,
in the first Part of this work, promised to give, as far as I am able,
a true account of America, it is my duty to state the reasons on
which this conviction is founded ; and, I address the statement
to you, in order, that, if you find it erroneous, you may, in the like
public manner, show wherein I have committed error.

973. We are speaking, my dear Sir, of English farmers possessing
each two or three thousand pounds sterling. And, before we
proceed to inquire, whether such persons ought to emigrate to
the West or to the East, it may not be amiss to inquire a little,
whether they ought to emigrate at all I Do not start, now !
For, while I am very certain that the emigration of such persons
is not, in the end, calculated to produce benefit to America, as a
nation, I greatly doubt of its being generally speaking, of any
benefit to the emigrants themselves, if we take into view the
chances of their speedy relief at home.

974. Persons of advanced age, of settled habits, of deep rooted
prejudices, of settled acquaintances, of contracted sphere of
movement, do not, to use Mr. GEORGE FLOWER'S expression,
" transplant well" Of all such persons, Farmers transplant
worst ; and, of all Farmers, English Farmers are the worst to
transplant. Of some of the tears, shed in the ILLINOIS, an account
reached me several months ago, through an eye-witness of perfect
veracity, and a very sincere friend of freedom, and of you, and
whose information was given me, unasked for, and in the presence
of several Englishmen, every one of whom, as well as myself,
most ardently wished you success.

975. It is nothing, my dear Sir, to say, as you do, in the Preface
to the Letters from the Illinois, " that as little would I encourage

236

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

the emigration of the tribe of grumblers, people who are petulant
and discontented under the every-day evils of life. Life has
its petty miseries in all situations and climates, to be mitigated
or cured by the continual efforts of an elastic spirit, or to be
borne, if incurable, with cheerful patience. But the peevish
emigrant is perpetually comparing the comforts he has quitted,
but never could enjoy, with the privations of his new allotment,
He overlooks the present good, and broods over the evil with
habitual perverseness : whilst in the recollection of the past, he
dwells on the good only. Such people are always bad associates,
but they are an especial nuisance in an infant colony."

976. Give me leave to say, my dear Sir, that there is too much
asperity in this language, considering who were the objects of the
censure. Nor do you appear to me to afford, in this instance, a
very happy illustration of the absence of that peevishness, which
you perceive in others, and for the yielding to which you call them
a nuisance : an appellation much too harsh for the object and for
the occasion. If you, with all your elasticity of spirit, all your
ardour of pursuit, all your compensations of fortune in prospect,
and all your gratifications of fame in possession, cannot with
patience hear the wailings of some of your neighbours, into what
source are they to dip for the waters of content and good-humour ?

977. It is no " every-day evil " that they have to bear. For an
English Farmer, and, more especially, an English Farmer's wife,
after crossing the sea and travelling to the Illinois, with the con
sciousness of having expended a third of their substance, to
purchase, as yet, nothing but sufferings ; for such persons to
boil their pot in the gipsy-fashion, to have a mere board to eat
on, to drink whisky or pure water, to sit and sleep under a shed far
inferior to their English cow-pens, to have a mill at twenty miles
distance, an apothecary's shop at a hundred, and a doctor no
where : these, my dear Sir, are not, to such people, " every-day
" evils of life." 'You, though in your little " cabin," have your
books, you have your name circulating in the world, you have it
to be given, by and bye, to a city or a county, and, if you fail of
brilliant success, you have still a sufficiency of fortune to secure
you a safe retreat. Almost the whole of your neighbours must be
destitute of all these sources of comfort, hope, and consolation.
As they now are, their change is, and must be, for the worst ;
and, as to the future, besides the uncertainty attendant, every
where, on that which is to come, they ought to be excused, if they,
at their age, despair of seeing days as happy as those that they
have seen.

978. It were much better for such people not to emigrate at all ;
for while they are sure to come into a state of some degree of
suffering, they leave behind them the chance of happy days ; and,
in my opinion, a certainty of such days. I think it next to im
possible for any man of tolerable information to believe, that the
present tyranny of the seat-owners can last another two years.
R 237

LETTER TO

As to what change will take place, it would, perhaps, be hard to
say : but, that some great change will come is certain ; and, it
is also certain, that the change must be for the better. Indeed, one
of the motives for the emigration of many is said to be, that they
think a convulsion inevitable. Why should such persons as I am
speaking of fear a convulsion ? Why should they suppose, that
they will suffer by a convulsion ? What have they done to pro
voke the rage of the blanketteers ? Do they think that their
countrymen, all but themselves, will be transformed into prowling
wolves ? This is precisely what the Boroughmongers wish them
to believe ; and, believing it, they flee instead of remaining to
assist to keep the people down, as the Boroughmongers wish them
to do.

979. Being here, however, they, as you say, think only of the
good they have left behind them, and of the bad they find here.
This is no fault of theirs : it is the natural course of the human
mind ; and this you ought to have known. You yourself ack
nowledge, that England " was never so dear to you as it is now in
" recollection ; being no longer under its base oligarchy, I can
" think of my native country and her noble institutions, apart from
'* her politics " I may ask you, by the way, what noble institutions
she has, which are not of a political nature ? Say the oppressions
of her tyrants, say that you can think of her and love her renown
and her famous political institutions, apart from those oppressions
and then I go with you with all my heart ; but, so thinking, and
so feeling, I cannot say with you, in your NOTES, that England is
to me " matter of history," nor with you, in your LETTERS FROM
THE ILLINOIS, that " where liberty is, there is my country."

980. But, leaving this matter, for the present, if English Farmers
must emigrate, why should they encounter unnecessary difficulties?
Coming from a country like a garden, why should they not stop
in another somewhat resembling that which they have lived in
before ? Why should they, at an expence amounting to a large
part of what they possess, prowl two thousand miles at the hazard
of their limbs and lives, take women and children through scenes
of hardship and distress not easily described, and that too, to live
like gipsies at the end of their journey, for, at least, a year or two,
and, as I think I shall show, without the smallest chance of their
finally doing so well as they may do in these Atlantic States ?
Why should an English Farmer and his family, who have always
been jogging about a snug home-stead, eating regular meals, and
sleeping in warm rooms, push back to the Illinois, and encounter
those hardships, which require all the habitual disregard of com
fort of an American back-woods-man to overcome ? Why
should they do this ? The undertaking is hardly reconcileable
to reason in an Atlantic American Farmer who has half a dozen
sons, all brought up to use the axe, the saw, the chisel and the
hammer from their infancy, and every one of whom is ploughman,
carpenter, wheelwright and butcher, and can work from sun-rise

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MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

to sun-set, and sleep, if need be, upon the bare boards. What,
then, must it be in an English Farmer and his family of helpless
mortals ? Helpless, I mean, in this scene of such novelty and
such difficulty ? And what is his wife to do ; she who has been
torn from all her relations and neighbours, and from every thing
that she liked in the world, and who, perhaps, has never, in all her
life before, been ten miles from the cradle in which she was nursed?
An American farmer mends his plough, his waggon, his tackle
of all sorts, his household goods, his shoes • and, if need be, he
makes them all. Can our people do all this, or any part of it ?
Can they live without bread for months ? Can they live without
beer ? Can they be otherwise than miserable, cut off, as they
must be, from all intercourse with, and hope of hearing of, their
relations and friends ? The truth is, that this is not transplanting,
it is tearing up and flinging away.

981. Society ! What society can these people have ? 'Tis true
they have nobody to envy, for nobody can have any thing to enjoy.
But there may be, and there must be, mutual complainings and
upbraidings ; and every unhappiness will be traced directly to
him who has been, however unintentionally, the cause of the
unhappy person's removal. The very foundation of your plan
necessarily contained the seeds of discontent and ill-will. A
colony all from the same country was the very worst project that
could have been fallen upon. You took upon yourself the charge
of MOSES without being invested with any part of his authority :
and absolute as this was, he found the charge so heavy, that he
called upon the Lord to share it with him, or to relieve him from
it altogether. Soon after you went out, an Unitarian Priest, upon
rny asking what you were going to do in that wild country, said,
you were going to form a community, who would be " content
" to worship one God." " I hope not," said I, " for he will have
" plagues enough without adding a priest to the number." But,
perhaps, I was wrong : for AARON was of great assistance to the
leader of the Israelites.

982. As if the inevitable effects of disappointment and hardship
were not sufficient, you had, too, a sort of partnership in the
leaders. This is sure to produce feuds and bitterness in the long
run. Partnership-sovereignties have furnished the world with
numerous instances of poisonings and banishments and rottings
in prison. It is as much as merchants, who post their books every
Sunday, can do to get along without quarrelling. Of man and
wife, though they are flesh of flesh and bone of bone, the harmony
is not always quite perfect, except in France, where the husband
is the servant, and in Germany and Prussia, where the wife is the
slave. But, as for a partnership sovereignty without disagree
ment, there is but one single instance upon record ; that, I mean,
was of the two kings of Brentford, whose cordiality was, you know,
so perfect, that they both smelt to the same nosegay. This is,
my dear Sir, no bantering. I am quite serious. It is impossible

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that separations should not take place, and equally impossible
that the neighbourhood should not be miserable. This is not the
way to settle in America. The way is, to go and sit yourself down
amongst the natives. They are already settled. They can lend
you what you want to borrow, and happy they are always to do it.
And, which is the great thing of all great things, you have their
women for your women to commune with !

983. RAPP, indeed, has done great things ; but RAPP has the
authority of MOSES and that of Aaron united in his own person.
Besides Rapp's community observe in reality that celibacy, which
Monks and Nuns pretend to, though I am not going to take my
oath, mind, that none of the tricks of the Convent are ever played
in the tabernacles of Harmony. At any rate, Rapp secures the
effects of celibacy ; first, an absence of the expence attending the
breeding and rearing of children, and, second, unremitted labour
of woman as well as man. But, where, in all the world is the
match of this to be found ? Where else shall we look for a Society
composed of persons willing and able to forego the gratification
of the most powerful propensity of nature, for the sake of getting
money together ? Where else shall we look for a band of men and
women who love money better than their own bodies ? Better
than their souls we find people enough to love money ; but, who
ever before heard of a set that preferred the love of money to that
of their bodies ? Who, before, ever conceived the idea of putting
a stop to the procreation of children, for the sake of saving the
expence of bearing and breeding them ? This Society, which is a
perfect prodigy and monster, ought to have the image of MAM
MON in their place of worship ; for that is the object of their
devotion, and not the God of nature. Yet the persons belonging
to this unnatural association are your nearest neighbours. The
masculine things here, called women, who have imposed barren
ness on themselves, out of a pure love of gain, are the nearest neigh
bours of the affectionate, tender-hearted wives and mothers and
daughters, who are to inhabit your colony, and who are, let us
thank God, the very reverse of the petticoated Germans of
Harmony.

984. In such a situation, with so many circumstances to annoy,
what happiness can an English family enjoy in that country, so
far distant from all that resembles what they have left behind
them ? " The fair Enchantress, Liberty" of whom you speak
with not too much rapture, they would have found in any of these
States, and, in a garb, too, by which they would have recognised
her. Where they now are, they are free indeed ; but their free
dom is that of the wild animals in your woods. It is not freedom,
it is no government. The GIPSIES, in England, are free : and any
one, who has a mind to live in a cave, or cabin, in some hidden
recess of our Hampshire forests, may be free too. The English
farmer, in the Illinois, is, indeed, beyond the reach of the Borough-
mongers ; and so is the man that is in the grave. When it was

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MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

first proposed, in the English Ministry, to drop quietly the title of
King of France in the enumeration of our king's titles, and, when
it was stated to be an expedient likely to tend to a peace, Mr.
WINDHAM, who was then a member of the Cabinet, said : " As
" this is a measure of safety, and as, doubtless, we shall hear of
" others of the same cast, what think you of going under ground
" at once ? " It was a remark enough to cut the liver out of the
hearers ; but Pitt and his associates had no livers. I do not
believe, that any twelve Journeymen, or Labourers, in England
would have voted for the adoption of this mean and despicable
measure.

985. If, indeed, the Illinois were the only place out of the reach
of the Borough-grasp ; and, if men are resolved to get out of that
reach ; then, I should say, Go to the Illinois, by all means. But,
as there is a country, a settled country, a free- country, full of kind
neighbours, full of all that is good, and when this country is to be
traversed in order to get at the acknowledged hardships of the
Illinois, how can a sane mind lead an English Farmer into the
expedition ?

986. It is the enchanting damsel that makes the knight encounter
the hair-breadth scapes, the sleeping on the ground, the cooking
with cross-sticks to hang the pot on. It is the Prairie, that pretty
French word, which means green grass bespangled with daisies
and cowslips ! Oh, God ! What delusion ! And that a man
of sense ; a man of superior understanding and talent ; a man of
honesty, honour, humanity, and lofty sentiment, should be the
cause of this delusion ; I, my dear Sir, have seen Prairies many
years ago, in America, as fine as yours, as fertile as yours, though
not so extensive. I saw those Prairies settled on by American
Loyalists, who were carried, with all their goods and tools to the
spot, and who were furnished with four years' provisions, all at
the expence of England : who had the lands given them : tools
given them : and who were thus seated down on the borders of
creeks, which gave them easy communication with the inhabited
plains near the sea. The settlers that I particularly knew were
Connecticut men. Men with families of sons. Men able to do
as much in a day at the works necessary in their situation as so
many Englishmen would be able to do in a week. They began
with a shed : then rose to a log-house : and next to a frame-
house : all of their own building. I have seen them manure their
land with Salmon caught in their creeks, and with pigeons caught
on the land itself. It will be a long while before you will see such
beautiful Corn-fields as I saw there. Yet nothing but the danger
and disgrace which attended their return to Connecticut prevented
their returning, though there they must have begun the world
anew. I saw them in their log-huts, and saw them in their frame-
houses. They had overcome all their difficulties as settlers ;
they were under a government which required neither tax nor
service from them ; they were as happy as people could be as to

241

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ease and plenty ; but still, they sighed for Connecticut : and
especially the women young as well as old, though we, gay fellows
with worsted or silver lace upon our bright red coats, did our best
to make them happy by telling them entertaining stories about
Old England, while we drank their coffee and grog by gallons,
and eat their fowls, pigs and sausages and sweet-meats, by wheel
barrow loads ; for, though we were by no means shy, their hos
pitality far exceeded our appetites. I am an old hand at the work
of settling in wilds. I have, more than once or twice, had to begin
my nest and go in, like a bird, making it habitable by degrees ;
and, if I, or, if such people as my old friends above-mentioned,
with every thing found for them and brought to the spot, had
difficulties to undergo, and sighed for home even after all the
difficulties were over, what must be the lot of an English Farmer's
family in the Illinois ?

987. All this I told you, my dear sir, in London, just before
your departure. I begged of you and Mr. Richard Flower both,
not to think of the Wildernesses. I begged of you to go to within
a day's ride of some of these great cities, where your ample capital
and your great skill could not fail to place you upon a footing,
at least, with the richest amongst the most happy and enlightened
Yeomanry in the world ; where you would find every one to praise
the improvements you would introduce, and nobody to envy you
any thing that you might acquire. Where you would find society
as good, in all respects, as that which you had left behind you.
Vvhere you would find neighbours ready prepared for you far
more generous and hospitable than those in England can be,
loaded and pressed down as they are by the inexorable hand of the
Borough -villains. I offered you a letter (which, I believe, I sent
you), to my friends the PAULS. " But," said I, " you want no

' letter. Go into Philadelphia, or Bucks, or Chester, or Mont-
' gomery County ; tell any of the Quakers, or any body else, that
' you are an English Farmer, come to settle amongst them ; and,
' I'll engage that you will instantly have friends and neighbours
c as good and as cordial as those that you leave in England."

988. At this very moment, if this plan had been pursued, you
would have had a beautiful farm of two or three hundred acres.
Fine stock upon it feeding on Swedish Turnips. A house over
flowing with abundance ; comfort, ease, and, if you chose,
elegance, would have been your inmates ; libraries, public and
private within your reach ; and a communication with England
much more quick and regular than that which you now have even
with Pittsburgh.

989. You say, that " Philadelphians know nothing of the Western
" Countries." Suffer me, then, to say, that you know nothing
of the Atlantic States, which, indeed, is the only apology for your
saying, that the Americans have no mutton fit to eat, and regard it
only as a thing fit for dogs. In this island every farmer has sheep.
T kill fatter lamb than I ever saw in England, and the fattest

242

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

mutton I ever saw, was in company with Mr. Harline, in Phila
delphia market last winter. At BRIGHTON, near Boston, they
produced, at a cattle shew this fall, an ox of two-thousand seven-
hundred pounds weight, and sheep much finer, than you and I saw
at the Smithfield Show in 1814. Mr. Judge Lawrence of this
county, has kept, for seven years, an average of five hundred
Merinos on his farm of one hundred and fifty acres, besides raising
twenty acres of Corn and his usual pretty large proportion of
grain ! Can your Western Farmers beat that ? Yes, in extent,
as the surface of five dollars beats that of a guinea.

990. I suppose that Mr. Judge Lawrence's farm, close by the
side of a bay that gives him two hours of water carriage to New-
York ; a farm with twenty acres of meadow, real prairie : a
gentleman's house and garden ; barns, sheds, cider-house,
stables coach-house, corn-cribs, and orchards that may produce
from four to eight thousand bushels of apples and pears : I sup
pose, that this farm is worth three hundred dollars an acre ; that
is, forty-five thousand dollars ; or about, twelve or thirteen thousand
pounds.

991. Now, then, let us take a look at your estimate of the ex-
pences of sitting down in the prairies.

Copy from my Memorandum Book.

992. Estimate of money required for the comfortable establish
ment of my family on Bolting House, now English, prairie ;
on which the first instalment is paid. About 720 acres of wood
land, and 720 prairie — the latter to be chiefly grass : —

Dollars.

Second instalment . . . August, 1819, 720
Third ditto .... August, 1820, 720
Fourth ditto .... August, 1821, 720

2,160

Dwelling-house and appurtenances .... 4,500

Other buildings ....... 1,500

4680 rods of fencing, viz., 3400 on the prairie, and 1280

round the woodland . . . . . . 1,170

Sundry wells, 200 dollars ; gates, 100 dollars ; cabins,

200 dollars ........ 500

100 head of cattle, 900 dollars ; 20 sows, &c., 100

dollars ; sheep, 1000 dollars .... 2,000

Ploughs, waggons, &c., and sundry tools and imple
ments . . ... . . . 270

Housekeeping until the land supplies us ... 1,000

Carried over . . ... 13,100
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LETTER TO

Dollars.

Brought over . . . . 13,100
Shepherd one year's wages, herdsmen one year, and

sundry other labourers ..... 1,000
One cabinet-maker, one wheel-wright, one year, making

furniture and implements, 300 dollars each . ... 600
Sundry articles of furniture, ironmongery, pottery,

glass, &c. ........ 500

Sundries, fruit trees, &c. ..... 100

First instalment already paid .... 720

Five horses on hand, worth .... 300

Expence of freight and carriage of linen, bedding

books, clothing, &c. .

Value of articles brought from England . . 4>5oo

Voyage and journey ....... 2,000

Doll. 23,820
23,820 dollars — £5,359 sterling.
Allow about 600 dollars more for seed and corn 141

?r 993. So, here is more than one third of the amount of Mr.
Judge Lawrence's farm. To be sure, there are only about 18,000
dollars expended on land, buildings, and getting at them : but,
what a life is that which you are to lead for a thousand dollars a
year, when two good domestic servants will cost four hundred
of the money ? Will you live like one of the Yeomen of your rank
here ? Then, I assure you, that your domestics and groceries
(the latter three times as dear as they are here) and crockery-ware
(equally dear) will more than swallow up that pitiful sum. You
allow six thousand dollars for buildings^ Twice the sum would
not put you, in this respect, upon a footing with Mr. Lawrence.
His land is all completely fenced and his grain in the ground.
His apple trees have six thousand bushels of apples in their buds,
ready to come out in the spring ; and, a large part of these to be
sold at a high price to go on ship-board. But, what is to give you
his market? What is to make your pork, as soon as killed, sell
for 9 or 10 dollars a hundred, and your cows at 45 or 50 dollars
each, and your beef at 7 or 8 dollars a hundred, and your corn at a
dollar, and wheat at two dollars a bushel ?

994. However, happiness is in the mind : and, if it be necessary
to the gratification of your mind to inhabit a wilderness and be the
owner of a large tract of land, you are right to seek and enjoy this
gratification. But, for the plain, plodding English Farmer, who
simply seeks safety for his little property, with some addition to
it for his children ; for such a person to cross the Atlantic states
in search of safety, tranquillity and gain in the Illinois, is, to my
mind, little short of madness. Yet to this mad enterprise is he

244

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

allured by your captivating statements, and which statements be
come decisive in their effects upon his mind, when they are
reduced to figures. This, my dear Sir, is the part of your writings,
which has given me most pain. You have not meant to deceive :
but you have first practised a deceit upon yourself, and then upon
others. All the disadvantages you state : but, then, you ac
company the statement by telling us how quickly and how easily
they will be overcome. Salt, Mr. HULME finds, even at ZANES-
VILLE, at two dollars and a half a bushel : but, you tell us, that it
soon will be at three quarters of a dollar. And thus it goes all
through.

995. I am happy, however, that you have given us figures in
your account of what an English farmer may do with two thousand
pounds. It is alluring, it is fallacious, it tends to disappointment,
misery, ruin and broken hearts ; but it is open and honest in
intention, and it affords us the means of detecting and exposing
the fallacy. Many and many a family have returned to New
England after having emigrated to the West in search of fine
estates. They, able workmen, exemplary livers, have returned to
labour in their native States amongst their relations and old
neighbours ; but, what are our poor ruined countrymen to do,
when they become pennyless ? If I could root my country from
my heart, common humanity would urge me to make an humble
attempt to dissipate the charming delusions, which have, without
your perceiving it, gone forth from your sprightly and able pen,
and which delusions are the more dangerous on account of your
justly high and well-known character for understanding and
integrity.

996. The statement, to which I allude, stands as follows, in
your tenth Letter from the Illinois.

997. A capital of zooo/. sterling, (8,889 dollars) may be invested
on a section of such land, in the following manner, viz.

Dollars.

Purchase of the land, 640 acres, at 2 dollars peracre. . 1280
House and buildings, exceedingly convenient and com
fortable, may be built for ..... 1500

A rail fence round the woods, 1000 rods, at 25 cents per

rod ......... 250

About 1800 rods of ditch and bank, to divide the arable

land into 10 fields. ...... 600

Planting 1800 rods of live fence . . . . 150

Fruit trees for orchard, &c. . . * . . 100

Horses and other live stock .... * 1500

Implements and furniture . . . . . 1000

Carried over . . . 6380

245

LETTER fO

Dollars.

Brought over . . 6380

Provision for one year, and sundry incidental charges 1000
Sundry articles of linen, books, apparel, implements

&c., brought from England .... 1000

Carriage of ditto, suppose 2000 Ibs. at 10 dollars per cwt. 200

Voyage and travelling expences of one person, suppose 309

8889

Note. — The first instalment on the land is 320 dollars,
therefore 960 dollars of the purchase money remain in
hand to be applied to the expences of cultivation, in ad
dition to the sums above stated.

Expenditure of first Year.

Breaking up 100 acres, 2 dollars per acre . . . 200

Indian corn for feed, 5 barrels, (a barrel is five bushels) 10

Planting ditto ........ 25

Horse-hoeing ditto, one dollar per acre . . . 100

Harvesting ditto, i| dollar per acre . . . 150

Ploughing the same land for wheat, i dollar per acre . 100

Seed wheat, sowing and harrowing . . . . 175

Incidental expences ....... 240

Produce of first Year . . 1000
100 acres of Indian corn, 50 bushels (or 10 barrels) per

acre, at 2 dollars per barrel .... 2000

Net produce . 1000

Expenditure, of second Year.
Breaking up 100 acres for Indian corn, with expences on

that crop ........ 485

Harvesting and threshing wheat, 100 acres . . 350

Ploughing 100 acres for wheat, seed, &c. . . . 275

Incidents ........ 290

Produce of second Year . . 1400
100 acres Indian corn, 10 barrels per acre,

2 dollars per barrel .... 2000

100 acres wheat, 20 bushels per acre, 75

dollars per barrel. . . . 1500 3500

Net produce . 2100

246

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

Expenditure of third Year.

Dollars.
Breaking up 100 acres as before, with expences on crop

of Indian corn ....... 485

Ploughing 100 acres of wheat stubble for Indian corn 100

Horse hoeing, harvesting, &c. ditto . . . 285

Harvesting and threshing 100 acres wheat . . 350
Dung-carting 100 acres for wheat, after second crop of

Indian corn. ....... 200

Ploughing 200 acres wheat, seed, &c. . . . 550

Incidents ........ 330

2300
Produce of third Year.

200 acres of Indian corn, 10 barrels per

acre, 2 dollars per barrel . . . 4000

zoo acres wheat, 20 bushels per acre, 75
dollars per barrel. .... 1500 5500

Net produce . 3200

Expenditure of fourth Year.

As the third ........ 2300

Harvesting and threshing 100 acres more wheat . . 350

Additional incidents ...... 50

2700

Produce of fourth Year.

Dollars.

200 acres Indian corn, as above . . 4000
200 acres wheat ..... 3000 7000

Net produce . 4300

Summary^

EXPENCES. PRODUCE.

Dollars. Dollars.

First year . . . 1000 . . 2000

Second .... 1400 . . 3500

Carried over 2400 5500

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LETTER TO

EXPENCES. PRODUCTS.

Dollars. Dollars.

Brought over 2400 5500

Third .... 2300 . . 5500

Fourth .... 2700 . . 7000

18000
House-keeping and other

expences for four years . 4000 11400

Net proceeds per annum ...... 1650

Increasing value of land by cultivation and settlements,

half a dollar per ann. on 640 acres . . . . 320

Annual clear profit . . . 1970

998. " Twenty more : kill 'em ! Twenty more : kill them
" too ! " No : I will not compare you to BOBADIL : for he was
an intentional deceiver ; and you are unintentionally deceiving
others and yourself too. But, really, there is in this statement
something so extravagant ; so perfectly wild ; so ridiculously
and staringly untrue, that it is not without a great deal of difficulty
that all my respect for you personally can subdue in me the
temptation to treat it with the contempt due to its intrinsic de
merits.

999. I shall notice only a few of the items. A house, you say,
" exceedingly convenient and comfortable, together with farm-
" buildings, may be built for 1500 dollars." Your own intended
house you estimate at 4500, and your out-buildings at 1500. So
that, ?/ this house of the farmer (an English farmer, mind) and his
buildings, are to be " exceedingly convenient and comfortable"
for 1500 dollars, your house and buildings must be on a scale,
which, if not perfectly princely ', must savour a good deal of
aristocratical distinction. But, this if relieves us ; for even your
house, built of pine timber and boards, and covered with cedar
shingles, and finished only as a good plain farm-home ought to be,
will, if it be thirty-six feet front, thirty -four feet deep, two rooms
in front, kitchen, and wash-house behind, four rooms above, and
a cellar beneath ; yes, this house alone, the bare empty house,
with doors and windows suitable, will cost you more than six
thousand dollars. I state this upon good authority. I have taken
the estimate of a building carpenter. '* What Carpenter ? "
you will say. Wh}', a Long Island carpenter, and the house to be
built wi'.hin a mile of Brooklyn, or two miles of New York. And
this is giving you all the advantage, for here the pine is cheaper
than with you ; the shingle? cheaper ; the lime and stone and
brick as cheap or cheaper ; the glass, iron, lead, brass and tin,
all at half or a quarter of the Prairie price : and as to labour,

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MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

if it be not cheaper here than with you, men would do well not to
go so far in search of high wages !

1000. Let no simple Englishman imagine that here, at and near
New York, in this dear place, we have to pay for the boards and
timber brought from a distance : and that you, the happy people
of the land of daisies and cowslips, can cut down your own good
and noble oak trees upon the spot, on your own estates, and turn
them into houses without any carting. Let no simple Englishman
believe such idle stories as this. To dissipate all such notions,
I have only to tell him /that the American farmers on this island,
when they have buildings to make or repair, go and purchase
the pine timber and boards, at the very same time that they cut
down their own oak trees and cleave up and burn them as fire-wood !
This is the universal practice in all the parts of America that I
have ever seen. What is the cause ? Pine wood is cheaper,
though bought, than the oak is without buying. This fact, which
nobody can deny, is a complete proof that you gain no advantage
from being in woods, as far as building is concerned. And the
truth is, that the boards and plank, which have been used in the
Prairie, have actually been brought from the Wabash, charged with
ten miles rough land carriage ; how far they may have come down
the Wabash I cannot tell.

i ooi. Thus, then, the question is settled that building must be
cheaper here than in the Illinois. If, therefore, a house, 36 by 34
feet, cost here 6000 dollars, what can a man get there for 1500
dollars ? A miserable hole, and no more. But, here are to be
farm-buildings and all, in the 1500 dollars' worth ! A barn, 40
feet by 30, with floor, and with stables in the sides, cannot be
built for 1500 dollars, leaving out waggon-house, corn-crib, cattle-
hovels, yard fences, pig-sties, smoke house, and a great deal more !
And yet, you say, that all these, and a farm-house into the bargain,
all " exceedingly comfortable and convenient," may be had for 1500
dollars !

1 002. Now, you know, my dear Sir, that this is said in the face
of all America. Farmers are my readers. They all understand
these matters. They are not only good, but impartial judges •
and I call upon you to contradict, or even question, my statements,
if you can.

1003 Do my eyes deceive me ? Or do I really see one hundred
and fifty dollars put down as the expence of " planting one thousand
" eight hundred rod of live fence ? " That is to say, nine cents,
or four pence half -penny sterling, a rod ! What plants ? Whence
to come ? Drawn out of the woods, or first sown in a nursery ?
Is it seed to be sown ? Where are the seeds to come from ? No
levelling of the top of the bank ; no drill ; no sowing ; no keeping
clean for a year or two : or, all these for nine cents a rod, when the
same works cost half a dollar a rod in England !

1004. Manure too ! And do you really want manure then ?
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LETTER TO

And, where, I pray you, are you to get manure for 100 acres ?
But, supposing you to have it, do you seriously mean to tell us
that you will carry it on for two dollars an acre ? The carrying
on, indeed, might perhaps be done for that, but, who pays for the
filling and for the spreading ? Ah ! my dear Sir, I can well
imagine your feelings at putting down the item of dung-carting,
trifling as you make it appear upon paper. You now recollect
my words when I last had the pleasure of seeing you, in Catherine
Street, a few days before the departure of us both. I then dreaded
the dung-cart, and recommended the Tullian System to you, by
which you would have the same crops every year, without manure ;
but, unfortunately for my advice, you sincerely believed your land
would be already too rich, and that your main difficulty would be,
not to cart on manure, but to cart off the produce !

1005. After this, it appears unnecessary for me to notice any
other part of this Transalleganian romance, which I might leave
to the admiration of the Edinburgh Reviewers, whose knowledge
of these matters is quite equal to what they have discovered as to
the Funding System and Paper Money. But when I think of the
flocks of poor English Farmers, who are tramping away towards
an imaginary, across a real land of milk and honey, I cannot lay
down the pen, till I have noticed an item or two of the produce.

1006. The farmer is to have 100 acres of Indian corn, the first
year. The minds of you gentlemen who cross the Allegany
seem to expand, as it were, to correspond with the extent of the
horizon that opens to your view ; but, I can assure you, that if
you were to talk to a farmer on this side of the mountains of a field
of Corn of a hundred acres during the first year of a settlement,
with grassy land and hands scarce, you would frighten him into
a third-day ague. In goes your Corn, however ! " Twenty
" more : kill 'em ! " Nothing but ploughing : no harrowing ,
110 marking ; and only a horse-hoeing, during the summer, at
a dollar an acre. The planting is to cost only a quarter of a dollar
an acre. The planting will cost a dollar an acre. The horse-
hoeing in your grassy land, two dollars. The hand-hoeing, which
must be well done, or you will have no corn, two dollars : for, in
spite of your teeth, your rampant natural grass will be up before
your corn, and a man must go to a thousand hills to do half an acre
a day. It will cost two dollars to harvest a hundred bushels of
corn ears. So that here are about 400 dollars of expences on the
Corn alone, to be added. A trifle, to be sure, when we are looking
through the Transalleganian glass, which diminishes out-goings
and magnifies incomings. However, here are four hundred
dollars.

1007. In goes the plough for wheat ? "In him again ! Twenty
" more ! " But, this is in October, mind. Is the Corn off ? It
may be ; but, where are the four hundred zuaggon loads of corn
stalks ? A prodigiously fine thing is this forest of fodder, as high
and as thick as an English coppice. But, though it be of no use

250

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

to you, who have the meadows without bounds, this coppice must
be removed, if you please, before you plough for wheat !

1008. Let us pause here, then ; let us look at the battalion,
who are at work ; for, there must be little short of a Hessian
Battalion. Twenty men and twenty horses may husk the Corn,
cut and cart the stalks, plough and sow and harrow for the wheat ;
twenty two-legged and twenty four-legged animals may do the
work in the proper time ; but, if they do it, they must work well.
Here is a goodly group to look at, for an English Farmer, without
a penny in his pocket ; for all his money is gone long ago, even
according to your own estimate ; and, here, besides the expence
of cattle and tackle, are 600 dollars, in bare wages, to be paid in a
month! You and I both have forgotten the shelling of the Corn,
which, and putting it up, will come to 50 dollars more at the least,
leaving the price of the barrel to be paid for by the purchaser of
the Corn.

1009. But, what did I say ? Shell the Corn ? It must go into
the Cribs first. It cannot be shelled immediately. And it must
not be thrown into heaps. It must be put into Cribs. I have
had made out an estimate of the expence of the Cribs for ten
thousand bushels of Corn Ears : that is the crop ; and the Cribs
will cost 570 dollars ! Though, mind, the farmer's house, barns,
stables, waggon-house, and all, are to cost but 1500 dollars ! But,
the third year, our poor simpleton is to have 200 acres of corn !
" Twenty more : kill 'em ! " Another 570 dollars for Cribs !

1010. However, crops now come tumbling on him so fast, that
he must struggle hard not to be stifled with his own super
abundance. He has now got 200 acres of corn and 100 acres of
wheat, which latter he has, indeed, had one year before ! Oh,
madness ! But, to proceed. To get in these crops and to sow
the wheat, first taking away 200 acres of English coppice in stalks,
will, with the dunging for the wheat, require, at least, fifty good
men, and forty good horses or oxen, for thirty days. Faith ! when
farmer Simpleton sees all this (in his dreams I mean), he will
think himself a farmer of the rank of JOB, before Satan beset that
example of patience, so worthy of imitation, and so seldom
imitated.

ion. Well, but Simpleton must bustle to get in his wheat.
In, indeed ! What can cover it, but the canopy of heaven ? A
barn ! It will, at two English waggon loads of sheaves to an acre,
require a barn a hundred feet long, fifty feet wide, and twenty-
three feet high up to the eaves ; and this barn, with two proper
floors, will cost more than seven thousand dollars. He will put
it in stacks : let him add six men to his battalion then. He will
thrash it in the field : let him add ten more men ! Let him, at
once, send and press the Harmonites into his service, and make
RAPP march at their head, for, never will he by any other means
get in the crop ; and, even then, if he pay fair wages, he will lose
by it.

251

LETTER TO

1012. After the crop is in and the seed sown, in the fall, what is
to become of Simpleton's men till Corn ploughing and planting
time in the spring ? And, then, when the planting is done,
what is to become of them till harvest time ? Is he, like BAYES,
in the Rehearsal, to lay them down when he pleases, and when he
pleases make them rise up again ? To hear you talk about these
crops, and, at other times to hear you advising others to bring
labourers from England, one would think you, for your own part,
able, like CADMUS, to make men start up out of the earth. How
would one ever have thought it possible for infatuation like this
to seize hold of a mind like yours ?

1013. When I read in your Illinois Letters, that you had pre
pared horses, ploughs, and other things, for putting in a hundred
acres of Corn in the Spring, how I pitied you ! I saw all your
plagues, if you could not see them. I saw the grass choking your
plants ; the grubs eating them ; and you fretting and turning
from the sight with all the pangs of sanguine baffled hope. I
expected you to have ten bushels, instead of fifty, upon an acre.
I saw your confusion, and participated in your mortification.
From these feelings I was happily relieved by the Journal of our
friend HULME, who informs the world, and our countrymen in
particular, that you had not, in July last, any Corn at all growing !

1014. Thus it is to reckon one's chickens before they are hatched:
and thus the Transalleganian dream vanishes. You have been
deceived. A warm heart, a lively imagination, and I know not
what caprice about republicanism, have led you into sanguine
expectations and wrong conclusions. Come, now 1 Confess it
like yourself ; that is, like a man of sense and spirit : like an honest
and fair-dealing John Bull. To err belongs to all men, great as
well as little : but, to be ashamed to confess error, belongs only
to the latter.

1015. Great as is my confidence in your candour, I can, how
ever, hardly hope wholly to escape your anger for having so
decidedly condemned your publications ; but, I do hope, that
you will not be so unjust as to impute my conduct to any base
self-interested motive. I have no private interest, I can have no
such interest in endeavouring to check the mad torrent towards
the West. I own nothing in these States, and never shall ; and
whether English Farmers push on into misery and ruin, or stop
here in happiness and prosperity, to me, as far as private interest
goes, it must be the same. As to the difference in our feelings
and notions about country, about allegiance, and about forms of
government, this may exist without any, even the smallest degree
of personal dislike. I was no hypocrite in England ; I had no
views farther than those which I professed. I wanted nothing
for myself but the fruit of my own industry and talent, and I
wished nothing for my country but its liberties and laws, which
say, that the people shall be fairly represented. England has been
very happy and free : her greatness and renown have been sur-

2*2

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

* f**j

passed by those of no nation in the world ; her wise, just, and
merciful laws form the basis of that freedom which we here enjoy,
she has been fertile beyond all rivalship in men of learning and
men devoted to the cause of freedom and humanity ; her people,
though proud and domineering, yield to no people in the world
in frankness, good faith, sincerity, and benevolence : and I cannot
but know, that this state of things has existed, and that this people
has been formed, under a government of king, lords, and com
mons. Having this powerful argument of experience before me,
and seeing no reason why the thing should be otherwise, I have
never wished for republican government in England ; though,
rather than that the present tyrannical oligarchy should continue
to trample on king and people, I would gladly see the whole fabric
torn to atoms, and trust to chance for something better, being
sure that nothing could be worse. But, if I am not a republican ;
if I think my duty towards England indefeasible ; if I think that
it becomes me to abstain from any act which shall seem to say I
abandon her, and especially in this her hour of distress and op
pression ; and, if, in all these points, I differ from you, I trust
that to this difference no part of the above strictures will be
imputed, but that the motive will be fairly inferred from the act,
and not the act imputed unfairly to any motive. I am, my dear
Sir, with great respect for your talents as well as character,

Your most obedient

And most humble servant,
WM. COBBETT.

TO

MORRIS BIRKBECK, Esq.,

OF
ENGLISH PRAIRIE, ILLINOIS TERRITORY.

LETTER II.

North Hemp stead, Long Island,

i5th Dec. 1818.
MY DEAR SIR,

1016. BEING, when I wrote my former Letter to you, in great
haste to conclude, in order that my son William might take it to
England with him, I left unnoticed many things, which I had
observed in your " Letters from the Illinois " : and which things
merited pointed notice. Some of these I will notice ; for, I wish
to discharge all my duties towards my countrymen faithfully ;
and, I know of no duty more sacred, than that of warning them
against pecuniary ruin and mental misery.

1017. It has always been evident to me, that the Western
Countries were not the countries for English farmers to settle
in : no, nor for American farmers, unless under peculiar cir
cumstances. The settlers, who have gone from the New England
States, have, in general, been able men with families of stout sons.
The contracted farm in New England sells for money enough to
buy the land for five or six farms in the West. These farms are
made by the labour of the owners. They hire nobody. They live
any how for a while. I will engage that the labour performed by
one stout New England family in one year, would cost an English
farmer a thousand pounds in wages. You will say, why cannot the
English labour as hard as the Yankees ? But, mind, I talk of a
family of Yankee sons : and, besides, I have no scruple to say,
that one of these will do as much work in the clearing and fencing

LETTER TO

of a farm, and in the erection of buildings, as four or five English
of the same age and size. Yet, have many of the New England
farmers returned. Even they have had cause to repent of their
folly. What hope is there, then, that English farmers will
succeed ?

1018. It so happens, that / have seen new settlements formed.
I have seen lands cleared. I have seen crowds of people coming
and squatting down in woods or little islands, and by the sides of
rivers. I have seen the log-hut raised ; the bark covering put
on ; I have heard the bold language of the adventurers ; and I
have witnessed their subsequent miseries. They were just as
free as you are ; for, they, like you, saw no signs of the existence
of any government, good or bad.

1019. New settlements, particularly at so great a distance from
all the conveniences and sweeteners of life, must be begun by
people who labour for themselves. Money is, in such a case, almost
useless. It is impossible to believe, that, after your statement
about your intended hundred acres of Indian corn, you would not
have had it, or, at least, a part of it, if you could : that is to say, it
money would have got it. Yet you had not a single square rod.
Mr. HULME, (See Journal, 28th July) says, in the way of reason
for your having no crops this year, that you could purchase with
more economy than you could grow ! Indeed ! what ; would
the Indian Corn have cost, then, more than the price of the Corn ?
Untoward observation ; but perfectly true, I am convinced.
There is, it is my opinion, nobody that can raise Indian Corn or
Grain at so great a distance from a market to any profit at all with
hired labour. Nay, this is too plain a case to be matter of opinion.
I may safely assume it as an indisputable fact. For, it being
notorious, that labour is as high priced with you as with us, and
your statement shewing that Corn is not much more than one
third of our price, how monstrous, if you gain at all, must be the
Consumers' gains here ! The rent of the land here is a mere
trifle more than it must be there, for the cultivated part must pay
rent for the uncultivated part. The labour, indeed, as all the
world knows, is every thing. All the other expences are not
worth speaking of. What, then, must be the gains of the Long
Island farmer, who sells his corn at a dollar a bushel, if you, with
labour at the Long Island price, can gain by selling Corn at the
rate of five bushels for two dollars ! If yours be a fine country for
English farmers to migrate to, what must this be ? You want no
manure. This cannot last long ; and, accordingly, I see, that you
mean to dung for toheat after the second crop of Corn. This is
another of the romantic stories exposed. In Letter IV you relate
the romance of manure being useless : but, in Letter X, you tell us,
that you propose to use it. Land bearing crops without a manure,
or, with new-culture and constant ploughing, is a romance. This
I told you in London ; and this you have found to be true.

1 020. It is of little consequence what wild schemes are formed
256

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

and executed by men who have property enough to carry them
back : but, to invite men to go to the Illinois with a few score of
pounds in their pockets, and to tell them, that they can become
farmers with those pounds, appears to me to admit of no other
apology than an unequivocal acknowledgment, that the inviter
is mad. Yet your fifteenth Letter from the Illinois really contains
such an invitation. This letter is manifestly addressed to an
imaginary person. It is clear that the correspondent is a feigned,
or supposed, being. The letter is, I am sorry to say, I think, a
mere trap to catch poor creatures with a few pounds in their
pockets. I will here take the libeity to insert the whole of this
letter ; and will then endeavour to show the misery which it is
calculated to produce, not only amongst English people, but
amongst Americans who may chance to read it, and who are now
living happily in the Atlantic States. The letter is dated, 24th
of February > 1818, and the following are its words :

1 02 1. " Dear Sir, — When a man gives advice to his friends,
on affairs of great importance to their interest, he takes on him
self a load of responsibility, from which I have always shrunk,
and generally withdrawn. My example is very much at their
service, either for imitation or warning, as the case may be. I
must, however, in writing to you, step a little over this line of
caution, having more than once been instrumental in helping
you, not out of your difficulties, but from one scene of perplexity
to another ; I cannot help advising you to make an effort more,
and extricate yourself and family completely, by removing into
this country. — When I last saw you, twelve months ago, I did
not think favourably of your prospects : if things have turned out
better, I shall be rejoiced to hear it, and you will not need the
advice I am preparing for you. But, if vexation and disappoint
ments have assailed you, as I feared, and you can honourably
make your escape, with the means of transmitting yourself
hither, and one hundred pounds sterling to spare — don't
hesitate. In six months after I shall have welcomed you,
barring accidents, you shall discover that you are become rich,
for you shall feel that you are independent : and I think that
will be the most delightful sensation you ever experienced ;
for, you will receive it multiplied, as it were, by the number
of your family as your troubles now are. It is not, however,
a sort of independence that will excuse you from labour, or
afford you many luxuries, that is, costly luxuries. I will state
to you what I have learned, from a good deal of observation and
inquiry, and a little experience ; then you will form your own
judgment. In the first place, the voyage. That will cost you,
to Baltimore or Philadelphia, provided you take it, as no doubt
you would, in the cheapest way, twelve guineas each, for a birth,
fire, and water, for yourself and wife, and half price, or less, for
your children, besides provisions, which you will furnish.
' Then the journey. Over the mountains to Pittsburgh, down

257

LEffER

" the Ohio to Shawnee Town, and from thence to our settle-

" ment, fifty miles north, will amount to five pounds sterling per

" head. — If you arrive here as early as May, or even June, another

" five pounds per head will carry you on to that point, where you

" may take your leave of dependence on any thing earthly but your

" own exertions. — At this time I suppose you to have remaining

" one hundred pounds (borrowed probably from English friends,

" who rely on your integrity, and who may have directed the

" interest to be paid to me on their behalf, and the principal in

" due season.) — We will now, if you please, turn it into dollars,

" and consider how it may be disposed of. A hundred pounds

" sterling will go a great way in dollars. With eighty dollars you

' will enter a quarter section of land ; that is, you will purchase

' at the land-office one hundred and sixty acres, and pay one-

' fourth of the purchase money, and looking to the land to reward

4 your pains with the means of discharging the other three-fourths

' as they become due, in two, three, and four years. — You will

' build a house with fifty dollars ; and you will find it extremely

' comfortable and convenient, as it will be really and truly yours.

' Two horses will cost, with harness and plough, one hundred. —

' Cows, and hogs, and seed corn, and fencing, with other expenses,

' will require the remaining two hundred and ten dollars. — This

' beginning, humble as it appears, is affluence and splendour,

' compared with the original outfit of settlers in general. Yet

* no man remains in poverty, who possesses even moderate
' industry and economy, and especially of time. — You would of
' course bring with you your sea-bedding and store of blankets,
' for you will need them on the Ohio ; and you should leave
' England with a good stock of wearing apparel. Your luggage
' must be composed of light articles on account of the costly
' land-carriage from the Eastern port to Pittsburgh, which will

* be from seven to ten dollars per 100 Ibs., nearly sixpence sterling

* per pound. A few simple medicines of good quality are indis-
' pensable, such as calomel, bark in powder, castor oil, calcined
' magnesia, laudanum • they may be of the greatest importance
' on the voyage and journey, as well as after your arrival. — Change
' of climate and situation will produce temporary indisposition,

* but with prompt and judicious treatment, which is happily
' of the most simple kind, the complaints to which new comers
' are liable are seldom dangerous or difficult to overcome, pro-
' vided due regard has been had to salubrity in the choice of their

" settlement, and to diet and accommodation after their arrival.

" With best regards, I remain, &c."

1022. Now, my dear sir, your mode of address, in this letter,
clearly shews that you have in your eye a person above the level
of common labourers. The words " Dear Sir " indicate that you
are speaking to a friend, or, at least, to an intimate acquaintance :

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

of course to a person, who has not been brought up in the habits
of hard labour. And such a person it is, whom you advise and
press to come to the Illinois with a hundred pounds in his pocket
to become a farmer !

1023. I will pass over the expences previous to this unfortunate
man and his family's arriving at the Prairies, though those expences
will be double the amount that you state them at. But he arrives
with 450 dollars in his pocket. Of these he is to pay down 80
for his land, leaving three times that sum to be paid afterwards.
He has 370 left. And now what is he to do ? He arrives in
May. So that this family has to cross the sea in winter, and the
land in spring. There they are, however, and now what are they
to do ? Thev are to have built for 50 dollars a house " EX-
" TREMELY COMFORTABLE AND CONVENIENT :"—
the very words that you use in describing the farmer's house,
that was to cost, with out- buildings, 1500 dollars ! However,
you have described your own cabin whence we may gather the
meaning which you attach to the word comfortable. " This cabin

is built of round straight logs, about a foot in diameter, laying
upon each other, and notched in at the corners, forming a room
eighteen feet long by sixteen ; the intervals between the logs
' chunked,' that is, filled in with slips of wood ; and ' mudded,'
that is, daubed with a plaister of mud ; a spacious chimney,
built also of lovs, stands like a bastion at one end ; the roof is well
covered with four him 'red ' clap boards ' of cleft oak, very
much like the pales used in England for fencing parks. A
hole is cut through the side called, very properly, the ' through,'
for which there is a ' shutter,' made also of cleft oak, and hung
on wooden hinges. All this has been executed by contract, and
well executed, for twenty dollars. I have since added ten dollars
to the cost, for the luxury of a floor and ceiling of sawn boards,
and it is now a comfortable habitation."

1024. In plain words, this is a log-hut, such as the free negroes
live in about here, and a hole it is, fit only for dogs, or hogs, or
cattle. Worse it is than the negro huts ; for they have a bit of
glass : but here is none. This miserable hole, black with smoke
as it always must be, and without any window, costs, however, 30
dollars. And yet this English acquaintance of yours is to have
" a house extremely comfortable and convenient for fifty dollars."
Perhaps his 50 dollars might get him a hut, or hole, a few feet
longer and divided into two dens. So that here is to be cooking,
washing, eating, and sleeping all in the same " extremely con-
" venient and comfortable " hole ! And yet, my dear Sir you
find fault of the want of cleanliness in the Americans ! You have
not seen " the Americans." You have not seen the nice, clean,
neat houses of the farmers in this Island, in New England, in the
Quaker counties of Pennsylvania. You have seen nothing but the
smoke-dried Ultra-montanians ; and your project seems to be to
make the deluded English who may follow you rivals in the

259

LETTER

attainment of the tawny colour. What is this family to do in their
50 dollar den t Suppose one or more of them sick ! How are
the rest to sleep by night or to eat by day ?

1025. However, here they are, in this miserable place, with
the ship-bedding , and without even a bedstead, and with 130
dollars gone in land and house. Two horses and harness and plough
are to cost 100 dollars ! These, like the hinges of the door, are
all to be of -wood I suppose ; for as to flesh and blood and bones in
the form of two horses for 100 dollars is impossible, to say nothing
about the plough and harness, which would cost 20 dollars of the
money. Perhaps, however, you may mean some of those horses,
ploughs and sets of harness, which, at the time when you wrote
this letter, you ' ad all ready waiting for the spring to put in your
hundred acres of corn that was never put in at all ! However, let
this pass too. Then there are 220 dollars left, and these are to
provide cows, hogs, seed, corn, fencing, and other expences. Next
come two cows (poor ones) 24 dollars ; hogs, 15 dollars,; seed
corn, 5 dollars ; fencing, suppose 20 acres only, in four plots, the
stuff brought from the woods nearest adjoining. Here are 360
rods of fencing, and, if it be done so as to keep out a pig, and to
keep in a pig, or a horse or cow, for less than half a dollar a rod,
I will suffer myself to be made into smoked meat in the extremely
comfortable house Thus, then, here are 213 out of the 220
dollars, and this happy settler has seven whole dollars left for all
" other expences " : amongst which are the cost of cooking utensils,
plates, knives and forks, tables, and stools ; for, as to table-cloths
and chairs, those are luxuries unbecoming " simple republicans."
But, there must be a pot to boil in ; or, is that too much ? May
these republicans have a washing tub ? Perhaps, indeed, it will
become unnecessary in a short time ; for, the lice will have eaten
up the linen ; and, besides, perhaps real independence means
stark nakedness. But, at any rate, the hogs must have a trough :
or, are they to eat at the same board with the family ? Talking
of eating puts me in mind of a great article ; for what are the family
to eat during the year and more before their land can produce ?
For even if they arrive in May, they can have no crop that year,
Why, they must graze with the cows in the Prairies, or snuggle
with the hogs in the woods. An oven ! Childish effeminacy !
Oh ! unleavened bread for your life. Bread, did I say ? Where
is the " independent " family to get bread ? Oh ! no ! Grass
and Acorns and Roots ; and, God be praised, you have plenty of
water in your wells, though, perhaps, the family, with all their
" independence," must be compelled to depend on your leave to
get it, and fetch it half a mile into the bargain.

1026. To talk seriously upon such a subject is impossible,
without dealing in terms of reprobation, which it would give me
great pain to employ when speaking of any act of yours. Indeed
such a family will be free : but, the Indians are free, and so are
the gypsies in England. And I most solemnly declare, that I

260

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

would sooner live the life of a gypsy in England, than be a settler,
with less than five thousand pounds, in the Illinois ; and, if I had
the five thousand pounds, and was resolved to exchange England
for America, what in the name of common sense, should induce
me to go into a wild country, when I could buy a good farm of
200 acres, with fine orchard and good house and out-buildings,
and stock it completely, and make it rich as a garden, within twenty
miles of a great sea-port, affording me a ready market and a high
price for every article of my produce ?

1027. You have, by this lime, seen more than you had seen,
when you wrote your " Letters from the Illinois." You would
not, I am convinced, write such letters now. But, lest you should
not do it, it is right that somebody should counteract their delusive
effects ; and this I endeavour to do as much for the sake of this
country as for that of my own countrymen. For a good while I
remained silent, hoping that few7 people would be deluded ; but
when I heard, that an old friend, and brother sportsman ; a
sensible, honest, frank, and friendly man, in Oxfordshire, whom
I will not name, had been seized with the Illinois madness, and
when I recollected, that he was one of those, who came to visit
me in prison, I could no longer hold my tongue ; for, if a man like
him ; a man of his sound understanding, could be carried away
by your representations, to what an extent must the rage have
gone !

1028. Mr. HULME visited you with the most friendly feelings.
He agrees with you perfectly as to notions about forms of govern
ment. He wished to give a good account of your proceedings.
His account is favourable ; but, his facts, which I am sure are
true, let out what I could not have known for certainty from any
other quarter. However, I do not care a farthing for the degrees
of goodness or of badness ; I say all new countries are all badness
for English farmers. I say, that their place is near the great cities
on the coast ; and that every step they go beyond forty miles from
those cities is a step too far. They want freedom : they have it
here. They want good land, good roads, good markets : they
have them all here. What should they run rambling about a
nation-making for ? What have they to do about extending
dominion and " taming the wilderness ? " If they speculate
upon becoming founders of republics, they will, indeed, do well
to get out of the reach of rivals. If they have a thirst for power,
they will naturally seek to be amongst the least informed part of
mankind. But, if they only want to keep their property and live
well, they will take up their abode on this side of the mountains
at least.

1029. The grand ideas about the extension of the empire of the
United States are of very questionable soundness : and they
become more questionable from being echoed by the Edinburgh
Reviewers, a set of the meanest politicians that ever touched pen
and paper. Upon any great question, they never have been

261

LETTER TO

right, even by accident, which is very hard ! The rapid extension
of settlements to the West of the mountains is, in my opinion, by
no means favourable to the duration of the present happy Union.
The conquest of Canada would have been as dangerous ; but no
more dangerous. A nation is never so strong and so safe as when
its extreme points feel for each other as acutely as each feels for
itself ; and this never can be when all are not equally exposed to
every danger ; and especially when all the parts have not the same
interests. In case of a war with England, what would become of
your market down the Mississippi ? That is your sole market.
That way your produce must go ; or you must dress yourself in
skins and tear your food to bits with your hands. Yet that way
your produce could not go, unless this nation were to keep up a
Navy equal to that of England. Defend the country against
invaders I know the people always will ; but, I am not sure, that
they will like internal taxes sufficient to rear and support a navy
sufficient to clear the gulph of Mexico of English squadrons.
In short, it is my decided opinion, that the sooner the banks of
the Ohio, the Wabash, and the Mississippi are pretty thickly
settled, the sooner the Union will be placed in jeopardy. If a war
were to break out with England, even in a few years, the lands of
which the Mississippi is the outlet, would lose a great part of their
value. Who does not see in this fact a great cause of disunion ?
On this side the mountains, there are twelve hundred miles of
coast to blockade ; but you, gentlemen Prairie owners, are like a
rat that has but one hole to go out and to come in at. You express
your deep-rooted attachment to your adopted country, and I am
sure you are sincere ; but, still I may be allowed to doubt, whether
you would cheerfully wear bear-skins, and gnaw your meat off
the bones for the sake of any commercial right that the nation
might go to war about. I know that you would not starve : for
coffee and tea are not necessary to man's existence ; but, you
would like to sell your flour and pork, and would be very apt to
discover reasons against a war that would prevent you from selling
them You appear to think it very wicked in the Atlantic People
to feel little eagerness in promoting the increase of population to
the Westward ; but, you see, that, in this want of such eagerness,
they may be actuated by a real love for their country. For my
part, I think it would have been good policy in the Congress not
to dispose of the Western Lands at all ; and I am sure it would
have been an act of real charity.

1030. Having now performed what I deemed my duty towards
my countrymen, and towards this country too, I will conclude my
letter with a few observations, relative to mills, which may be of
use to you : for, I know, that you will go on : and, indeed, I most
sincerely wish you all the success that you can wish yourself,
without doing harm to others.

1031. You have no mill streams near you ; and you are about to
erect a wind-mill. Man is naturally prone to call to his aid what-

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MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

ever will save his bones labour. The water, the wind, the fire ;
any thing that will help him. Cattle of some sort or other were,
for a long while, his great resource. But, of late, water-powers,
wind-powers, fire-powers. And, indeed, wondrous things have
been performed by machines of this kind. The water and the
wind do not eat, and require no grooming. But, it sometimes
happens, that, when all things are considered, we resort to these
grand powers without any necessity for it ; and that we forget
how easily we could do the thing we want done, with our own
hands. The story, in Peregrine Pickle, about the Mechanic,
who had invented a water machine to cut off the head of a cabbage,
hardly surpassed the reality in the case of the machine, brought
out in England, some years ago, for reaping wheat : nor is it much
less ridiculous to see people going many miles with grist to a mill,
which grist they might so easily grind at home. The hand-
mills, used in England, would be invaluable with you, for a while,
at least.

1032. But, it is of a mill of more general utility, that I am now
about to speak to you ; and, I seriously recommend it to your
consideration, as well as to other persons similarly situated.

1033. At Botley I lived surrounded by water-mills and wind
mills. There were eight or ten within five miles of me, and one
at two hundred yards from my house. Still I thought, that it
was a brutal sort of thing to be ob iged to send twice to a mill,
with all the uncertainties of the business, in order to have a sack of
wheat or of barley ground. I sent for a mill-wright, and, after
making all the calculations, I resolved to have a mill in my farm
yard, to grind for myself, and to sell my wheat in the shape of
flour. I had the mill erected in a pretty little barn, well floored
with oak, and standing upon stones with caps : so that no rats or
mice could annoy me. The mill was to be moved by horses for
which, to shelter them from the wet, I had a shed with a circular
roof erected on the outside of the barn. Under this roof, as well
as I recollect, there was a large wheel, which the horses turned
and a bar, going from that wheel, passed through into the barn,
and there it put the whole machinery in motion.

1034. 1 have no skill in mechanics. I do not, and did not, know
one thing from another by its name. All I looked to was the
effect : and this was complete. I had excellent flour. All my
meal was ground at home. I was never bothered with sending
to the mill. My ear^ were never after dinned with complaints
about bad flour and heavy bread. It was the prettiest, most con
venient, and most valuable thing I had upon my farm. It was,
I think, put up in 1816, and this was one of the pleasures, from
which the Borough-villains (God confound them !) drove me in
1817. I think it cost me about a hundred pounds. I forget,
whether I had sold any flour from it to the Bakers. But, inde
pendent of that it was very valuable. I think we ground and
dressed about forty bushels of wheat in a day : and, we used to

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work at it on wet days, and when we could not work in the fields.
We never were stopped by want of wind or water. The horses
were always ready ; and / know, that our grinding was done at
one half the expence at which it was done by the millers.

1035. The farmers and millers used to say, that I saved nothing
by my mill. Indeed, gain was not my object, except in con
venience. I hated the sudden calls for going to the mill. They
produced irregularity : and, besides, the millers were not more
honest than other people. Their mills contained all sorts of grain :
and, in their confusion, wre sometimes got bad flour from good
wheat : an accident that never happened to us after we got our
own mill. But, as to the gain, I have just received a letter from
my son, informing me, that the gentleman, a farmer born and bred,
who rents my farm in my absence, sells no wheat : that he grinds
all : that he sells flour all round the country ; and that this flour
is preferred before that of the millers. I was quite delighted to
hear this news of my little mill. It awakened many recollections ;
and I immediately thought of communicating the facts to the
public, and particularly to you.

1036. You will observe, that my farm is situated in the midst
of mills. So that,, you may be sure, the thing answers, or it
would not be carried on. If it were not attended with gain, it
would not be put in motion. I was convinced, that any man
might grind cheaper with a horse-mill than with a water or wind
mill, and now the fact is proved. For, observe, the mill costs
nothing for scite : it occupies a very small space ; it is inde
pendent of wind and water ; no floods or gales can affect it.

1037. Now, then, if such a mill be preferable to wind or water-
mills in a place where both abound, how useful must it be in a
situation like yours ? Such a mill would amply supply about
three hundred families, if kept constantly at work. And then,
it is so much more convenient than a windmill. A windmill is
necessarily a most unhandy thing. The grain has to be hauled up
and the flour let down. The building is a place of no capacity :
and, there is great danger attending the management of it. My
project is merely a neat, close barn, standing upon stones that rats
and mice cannot creep up. The waggon comes to the door,
the sacks are handed in and out ; and every thing is so convenient
and easily performed, that it is a pleasure to behold it.

1038. About the construction of the mill I know nothing. I
know only the effect, and that it is worked by horses, in the manner
that I have described. I had no Miller. My Bailiff, whom I had
made a Bailiff out of a Carpenter, I turned into a Miller ; or,
rather, I made him look after the thing. Any of the men, how
ever, could do the millering very well. Any of them could make
better flour than the water and wind-millers used to make for us.
So that there is no mystery in the matter.

1039. This country abounds in excellent mill-wrights. The
best, I dare say, in the world ; and, if I were settled here as a

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MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

farmer in a large way, I would scon have a little mill, and send
away my produce in flour instead of wheat. If a farmer has to
send frequently to the mill, (and that he must do, if he have a great
quantity of stock and a large family,) the very expence of sending
will pay for a mill in two or three years.

1040. I shall be glad if this piece of information should be of
use to any body, and particularly if it should be of any use in the
Prairies ; for, God knows, you will have plague enough without
sending to mill, which is, of itself, no small plague even in a
Christian country. About the same strength that turns a
threshing machine, turned my mill. I can give no information
about the construction. I know there was a hopper and stones y
and that the thing made a clinking noise like the water-mills, I
know that the whole affair occupied but a small space. Mv barn
was about forty feet long and eighteen feet wide, and the mill
stood at one end of it. The man who made it for me, and with
whom I made a bargain in writing, wanted me to agree to a
specification of the thing : but I declined having any thing to do
with cogs and wheels, and persisted in stipulating for effects. And
these were, that with a certain force of horses, it was to make so
much fine flour in so long a time ; and this bargain he very faith
fully fulfilled. The price was I think seventy pounds, and the
putting up and altogether made the amount about a hundred
pounds. There were no heavy timbers in any part of the thing.
There was not a bit of wood, in any part of the construction, so
big as my thigh. The whole thing might have been carried away,
all at once, very conveniently, in one of my waggons

1041. There is another thing, which I beg leave to recommend
to your attention ; and that is, the use of the Broom-Corn Stalks
as thatch. The coverings of bams and other out-houses with
shingle's makes them fiery hot in summer, so that it is dangerous
to be at work in making mows near them in very hot weather.
The heat they cause in the upper parts of houses, though there
be a ceiling under them, is intolerable. In the very hot weather I
always bring my bed down to the ground-floor. Thatch is cool.
Cool in summer and warm in winter Its inconveniences are
danger from fire and want of durability. The former is no great
deal greater than that of shingles. The latter may be wholly
removed by the use of the Broom- Corn Stalks. In England a
good thatch of wheat-straw will last twelve or fifteen years. If
this straw be reeded, as they do it in the counties of Dorset and
Devon, it will last thirty years ; and it is very beautiful. The
little town of CHARMOUTH, which is all thatched, is one of the
prettiest places I ever saw. What beautiful thatching might be
made in this country, where the straw is so sound and so clean !
A Dorsetshire thatcher might, upon this very island, make himself
a decent fortune in a few years. They do cover barns with straw
here sometimes ; but how one of our thatchers would laugh at the
work ! Let me digress here, tor a moment, to ask you if you have

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LEffER

got a sow-spayer ? We have no such man here. What a loss
arises from this ! WThat a plague it is. We cannot keep a whole
farrow of pigs, unless we breed from all the sows ! They go
away : they plague us to death. Many a man in England, now
as poor as an owlet, would (if he kept from the infernal drink)
become rich here in a short time. These sow-gelders, as they call
them, swarm in England. Any clown of a fellow follows this
calling, which is hardly two degrees above rat-catching and mole-
catching : and yet there is no such person here, where swine are
so numerous, and where so many millions are fatted for ex
portation ! It is very strange.

1042. To return to the thatching : Straw is not so durable as
one could wish : besides, in very high winds, it is liable, if not
reeded, to be ruffed a good deal ; and the reeding, which is almost
like counting the straws one by one, is expensive. In England
we sometimes thatch with reeds, which in Hampshire, are called
spear. This is an aquatic plant. It grows in the water, and will
grow no where else. When stout it is of the thickness of a small
cane at the bottom, and is about four or five feet long. I have seen
a thatch of it, which, with a little patching, had lasted upwards of
fifty years. In gentlemen's gardens, there are sometimes hedges
or screens made of these reeds. They last, if well put up, half a
century, and are singularly neat, while they parry the wind much
better than paling or walls, because there is no eddy proceeding
from their repulsion. They are generally put round those parts
of the garden where the hot-beds are.

1043. Now, the Broom-Corn far surpasses the reeds in all
respects. I intend, in my Book on Gardening, to give a full account
of the applicability of this plant to garden-uses both here and in
England ; for, as to the reeds, they can seldom be had, and a
screen of them comes, in most parts of England, to more money
than a paling of oak. But, the Broom-Corn ! What an useful
thing ! What quantities upon an acre of land ! Ten feet high,
and more durable than reeds ! The seed-stems, with a bit of the
stem of the plant, make the brooms. These, I hear, are now sent
to England. I have often talked of it in England as a good traffic.
We here sweep stables and streets with what the English sweep
their carpets with ! You can buy as good a broom at New York
for eight pence sterling as you can buy in London for five shillings
sterling, and the freight cannot exceed two-pence or three-pence,
if sent without handles. I bought a clothes-brush, an English
clothes-brush, the other day for three shillings sterling. It was
made of a farthing's worth of alder wood and of half a farthing's
worth of Broom-Corn. An excellent brush. Better than bristles. I
have Broom-Corn and Seed-Stems enough to make fifty thousand
such brushes. I really think I shall send it to England. It is
now lying about my barn, and the chickens are living upon the
seeds. This plant demands greater heat even than the Indian
Corn. It would hardly ripen its seed in England. Indeed it

266

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

would not. But, if well managed, it would produce a prodigious
crop of materials for reed-hedges and thatch. It is of a sub
stance (I mean the main stalk) between that of a cane and that of a
reed. It has joints precisely like those of the canes, which you
may have seen the Boroughmongers' sons and footmen strut
about with, called bamboos. The seed-stalks, which make the
brooms and brushes, might not get so mature in England as to be
so good as they are here for those uses : but, I have no doubt, that,
in any of the warm lands in Surrey, or Kent, or Hampshire, a man
might raise upon an acre a crop worth several hundred pounds.
The very stout stalks, if properly harvested and applied, would last
nearly as long as the best hurdle rods. What beautiful screens
they would make in gardens and pleasure grounds ! Ten feet
long, and straight as a gun stick ! I shall send some of the seed
to England this year, and cause a trial to be made ; and I will,
in my Gardening Book, give full instructions for the cultivation.
Of this book, which will be published soon, I would, if you lived
in this world, send you a copy. These are the best uses of maritime
intercourse : the interchange of plants, animals, and improve
ments of all sorts. I am doing my best to repay this country for
the protection which it has given me against our indemnified
tyrants. " Cobbett's pigs and Swedish Turnips," will be talked
of long after the bones of Ellenborough, Gibbs, Sidmouth,
Castlereagh and Jenkinson will be rotten, and their names for
gotten, or only remembered when my " trash " shall.

1044. This is a rambling sort of Letter. I now come back to
the Broom- Corn for thatch. Sow it in rows about five feet
asunder ; or, rather, on ridges, a foot wide at the top, with an
interval of five feet : let the plants stand all over this foot wide,
at about three inches apart, or less. Keep the plants clear of
weeds by a couple of weedings, and plough well between the
ridges three or four times during the summer. This will make the
plants grow tall, while their closeness to each other will make
them small in thickness of stem or stalk. It will bring them to
about the thickness of fine large reeds in England, and to about
twice the length ; and, I will engage, that a large barn may be
covered, by a good thatcher, with the stalks, in two days, and that
the covering shall last for fifty years. Only think of the price of
shingles and nails ! Only think of the cost of tiles in England !
Only think of the expence of drawing or of reeding straw in
England ! Only think of going into the water to collect reeds in
England, even where they are to be had at all, which is in a very
few places ! The very first thing that I would do, if I were to
settle in a place where I had buildings to erect, would be to sow
some Broom-Corn ; that is to say, sow some roofs. What a fine
thing this would be upon the farms in England ! What a con
venient thing for the cottagers ! Thatch for their pretty little
houses, for their styes, for their fuel-house, their cow-shed ; and
brooms into the bargain ; for, though the seed would not ripen,

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LETTER TO

and though the broom-part would not be of the best quality, it
would be a thousand times better than heath. The seed might
be sent from this country, and, though the Borough-villains would
tax it, as their rapacious system does EVEN THE SEEDS OF
TREES ; yet, a small quantity of' seed would suffice.

1045. As an ornamental plant nothing equals this. The Indian
Corn is far inferior to it in this respect. Planted by the side of
walks in gardens, what beautiful avenues it would make for the
summer ! I have seen the plants eighteen feet and a half high.
I always wanted to get some seed in England ; but, I never
could. My friends thought it too childish and whimsical a thing
to attend to. If the plant should so far come to perfection in
England as to yield the broom-materials, it will be a great thing ;
and, if it fall short of that, it will certainly surpass reeds for
thatching and screening purposes, for sheep-yards, and for
various other uses. However, I have no doubt of its producing
brooms : for, the Indian Corn, though only certain sorts of it will
ripen its seed even in Hampshire, will always come into bloom,
and, in the Broom-Corn, it is the little stalks, or branches, out of
which the flower comes, that makes the broom. If the plant
succeed thus far in England, you may be sure that the Borough-
villains will tax the brooms, until their system be blown to atoms ;
and, I should not wonder if they were to make the broom, like
hops, an article of excise, and send their spies into people's fields
and gardens to see that the revenue was not " defrauded."
Precious villains ! They stand between the people and all the
gifts of nature ! But this cannot last.

1046. I am happy to tell you, that Ellenborough and Gibbs have
retired ! Ill health is the pretence. I never yet knew ill health
induce such fellows to loosen their grasp of the public purse.
But, be it so : then I feel pleasure on that account. To all the
other pangs of body and mind let them add that of knowing, that
William Cobbett, whom they thought they had put down for ever,
if not killed, lives to rejoice at their pains and their death, to
trample on their graves, and to hand down their names for the
just judgment of posterity. What ! are these feelings wrong ?
Are they sinful ? What defence have we, then, against tyranny ?
If the oppressor be not to experience the resentment of the
oppressed, let us at once acknowledge the divine right of tyranny ;
for, what has tyranny else to fear ? Who has it to fear, but those
whom it has injured ? It is the aggregate of individual injury
that makes up national injury ; it is the aggregate of individual
resentment that makes up national resentment. National re
sentment is absolutely necessary to the producing of redress for
oppression ; and, therefore, to say that individual resentment is
wrong, is to say, that there ought to be no redress for oppression :
it is, in short, to pass a sentence of never-ending slavery on all
mankind. Some Local Militia men ; young fellows who had
been compelled to become soldiers, and who had no knowledge of

268

MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ.

military discipline ; who had, by the Act of Parliament, been
promised a guinea each before they marched ; who had refused
to march because the guinea liad not been wholly paid them : some
of these young men, these mere boys, had, for this mutiny, as it
was called, been flogged at Ely in. Cambridgeshire, under a guard
of German bayonets and sabres. At this I expressed my indigna
tion in the strongest terms : and, for doing this, I was put for two
years into a jail along with men convicted of unnatural crimes,
robbery, and under charge of murder, and where ASTLET was, who
was under sentence of death. To this was added a fine of a thousand
pounds sterling : and, when the two years should expire, bonds for
the peace and good behaviour for seven years ! The seven years
are not yet expired. I will endeavour to be of " good behaviour "
for the short space that is to come ; and, I am sure, I have behaved
well for the past : for never were seven years of such efficient
exertion seen in the life of any individual.

1047. The tyrants are hard pushed now. The Bank Notes
are their only ground to stand on ; and that ground will be moved
from under them in a little time. Strange changes since you left
England, short as the time has been ! I am fully of opinion, that
my four years which I gave the system at my coming away, will see
the end of it. There can be no more war carried on by them. I
see they have had Baring, of Loan-notoriety at the Holy Alliance-
Congress. He has been stipulating for a supply of paper-money.
They should have got my consent to let the paper-money remain ;
for, / can destroy it whenever I please. All sorts of projects are on
foot. " Inimitable Notes " : paying in specie by weight of metal.
Oh ! the wondrous fools ! A sudden blow-up ; or, a blow-up
somewhat slow, by ruin and starvation ; one of these must come :
unless they speedily reduce the interest of the Debt : and even that
v/ill not save the seat-dealers.

1048. In the meanwhile let us enjoy ourselves here amongst this
kind and hospitable people ; but, let us never forget, that England
is our country, and that her freedom and renown ought to be as
dear to us as the blood in our veins. God bless you, and give you
health and happiness.

WM. COBBETT.

269

POSTSCRIPT

RUTA BAGA ; OR, SWEDISH TURNIP.
To the Editor of the New York Evening Post.

Hyde Park , L ong- Ishi nd,

^d. Jan. 1819.
SIR,

1049. MY publications of last year, on the amount of the crops
of Ruta Baga, were, by many persons, considered romantic :
or, at best, a good deal strained. I am happy, therefore, to be able
to communicate to the public, through your obliging columns,
a letter from an American farmer on the subject. You may re
member, if you did me the honour to read my Treatise on the
cultivation of this root (in Part I. of the Year's Residence), that I
carried the amount of my best Botley-crops no higher than one
thousand three hundred bushels to the acre. The following
interesting letter will, I think, convince every one, that I kept,
in all my statements, below the mark. Here we have an average
weight of roots of six pounds and a half.

1050. I beg Mr. TOWNSEND to accept of my best thanks for
his letter, which has given me very great satisfaction, and which
will, I am sure, be of great use in promoting the cultivation of this
valuable root.

1051. Many gentlemen have written to me with regard to the
mode of preserving the Ruta Baga. I have, in the SECOND
PART of my Year's Residence, which will be published at New
York, in a few days, given a very full account of this matter.

I am, Sir, your most humble

And most obedient servant,

WM. COBBETT

270

New York, Dec. 30, 1818.
DEAR SIR,

1052. I TAKE the liberty of sending to you the following experi
ments upon the culture of your Ruta Baga, made by my uncle,
Isaac Townsend, Esq., of Orange county, in this state. The
seeds were procured from your stock, and the experiments, I
think, will tend to corroborate the sentiments which you have so
laudably and so successfully inculcated on the subject of this
interesting article of agriculture.

1053. A piece of strong dry loam ten feet square on the N. E.
side of a mountain in Moreau township, Orange county, was
thoroughly cleared of stones, and dug up twelve inches deep, on
the loth of June last ; it was then covered by a mixture of ten
bushels of charcoal dust and twenty bushels of black swamp
mould, which was well harrowed in. About the gth of July it
was sown with your Ruta Baga in drills of twenty inches apart,
the turnips being ten inches distant from each other. They came
up badly and were weeded out on the loth of August. On the
1 5th of August a table-spoonful of ashes was put round every
turnip, which operation was repeated on the 2Oth of September.
The ground was kept perfectly clean through the whole season.
Six seeds of the common turnip were by accident dropped into
the patch, and received the same attention as the rest. These
common turnips weighed two pounds a piece. The whole yield
of the Ruta Baga was three bushels, each turnip weighing from
four to eight pounds. The roots penetrated about twelve inches
into the ground, although the season was remarkably dry.

1054. A piece of rich, moist, loamy land, containing four square
rods, was ploughed twice in June, and the seeds of your Ruta
Baga sown on the 4th of July in broad cast, and kept clean through
the season. This patch produced twenty -five bushels of turnips,
each turnip weighing from four to nine pounds. This, you
perceive, is at the enormous rate of 1000 bushels an acre !

1055. It is Mr. Townsend's opinion, that on some of the soils
of Orange County your Ruta Baga may be made to yield 1500
bushels an acre.

I remain, with much respect,
Your obedient servant,

P. S. TOWNSEND.

IVilliam Cobbett, Esq.

Hyde Park, Long Island.

SECOND POSTSCRIPT

SIR,

FEARON'S FALSEHOODS.
To the Editor of the National Advocate.

Hyde Park, Jan. gth, 1819.

1056. BEFORE I saw your paper of the day before yesterday,
giving some extracts from a book published in England by one
Fearon, I had written part of the following article, and had pre
pared to send it home as part of a Register, of which I send one
every week. Your paper enabled me to make an addition to the
article ; and, in the few words below, I have this day sent the
whole off to be published in London. If you think it worth
inserting, I beg you to have the goodness to give it a place ; and
I beg the same favour at the hands of all those editors who may
have published Fearon's account of what he calls his visit to me.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient,

And most humble servant,

WM. COBBETT.

1057. There is, I am told, one FEARON, who has gone home and
written and published a book, abusing this country and its people
in the grossest manner. I only hear of it by letter. I hear, also,
that he speaks of me as if he knew me. I will tell you how far he
knew me : I live at a country house 20 miles from New York.
One morning, in the summer of 1817, a young man came into the
hall, and introduced himself to me under the name of FEARON.
The following I find about him in my journal : — " A Mr. FEARON

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SECOND POSTSCRIPT

" came this morning and had breakfast with us. Told us an
" odd story about having slept in a black woman's hut last night
" for sixpence, though there are excellent taverns at every two
' miles along the road. Told us a still odder story about his
' being an envoy from a host of families in London, to look out
* for a place of settlement in America ; but he took special care
' not to name any one of those families, though we asked him to do
' it. We took him, at first, for a sort of spy. William thinks he
' is a shopkeeper's clerk ; I think he has been a tailor. I observed
' that he carried his elbow close to his sides, and his arms, below
' the elbow, in a horizontal position. It came out that he had
' been with BUCHANAN, Castlereagh's consul at New York ; but
it is too ridiculous ; such a thing as this cannot be a spy ; he
" can get access no where but to taverns and boarding houses."

1058. This note now stands in my journal or diary of 22nd
August, 1817. I remember that he asked me some very silly
questions about the prices of land, cattle, and other things, which
I answered very shortly. He asked my advice about the families
emigrating, and the very words I uttered in answer, were these :
" Every thing I can say, in such a case, is to discourage the enter-
" prize. If Englishmen come here, let them come individually,
" and sit down amongst the natives : no other plan is rational."

1059. What I have heard of this man since, is, that he spent his
time, or great part of it, in New York, amongst the idle and dis
solute young Englishmen, whose laziness and extravagance had
put them in a state to make them uneasy, and to make them un
noticed by respectable people. That country must be bad, to
be sure, which would not give them ease and abundance without
labour or economy.

1060. Now, what can such a man know of America ? He has
not kept house ; he has had no being in any neighbourhood ; he
has never had any circle of acquaintances amongst the people ;
he has never been a guest under any of their roofs ; he knows
nothing of their manners or their characters ; and how can such
a man be a judge of the effects of their institutions, civil, political,
or religious ?

1 06 1. I have no doubt, however, that the reviews and news
papers, in the pay of the Boroughmongers, will do their best to
propagate the falsehoods contained in this man's book. But
what would you say of the people of America, if they were to
affect to believe what the French General said of the people of
England ? This man, in a book which he published in France,
said, that all the English married women got drunk, and swore
like troopers ; and that all the young women were strumpets, and
that the greater part of them had bastards before they were married.
Now, if the people of America were to affect to believe this, what
should we say of them ? Yet, this is just as true as this FEARON'S
account of the people of America.

1062. As to the facts of this man's visit to me, my son William,

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SECOND POSTSCRIPT

who is, by this time, in London, can and will vouch for their truth
at any time, and, if necessary, to Fearon's face, if Fearon has a
face which he dares show.

1063. Since writing the above, the New York papers have
brought me a specimen of Mr. FEARON'S performance. I shall
notice only his account of his visit to me. It is in the following
words :

1064. " A Visit to Mr. Cobbett. — Upon arriving at Mr. Cobbett's
" gate, my feelings, in walking along the path which led to the
" residence of this celebrated man are difficult to describe. The

' idea of a person self-banished, leading an isolated life in a
' foreign land ; a path rarely' trod, fences in ruins, the gate broken,
' a house mouldering to decay, added to much awkwardness of
' feeling on my part, calling upon an entire stranger, produced
' in my mind feelings of thoughtfulness and melancholy. I
' would fain almost have returned without entering the wooden
' mansion, imagining that its possessor would exclaim, ' What
: ' intruding fellow is here coming to break in upon my pursuits?'
' But these difficulties ceased almost with their existence. A
' female servant (an English woman) informed me that her master
' was from home, attending at the county court. Her language
' was natural enough for a person in her situation ; she pressed
' me to walk in, being quite certain that I was her countryman :
' and she was so delighted to see an Englishman, instead of those
' nasty guessing Yankees. Following my guide through the
' kitchen, (the floor of which, she asserted, was imbedded with

* two feet of dirt when Mr. Cobbett came there] — (it had been pre-
' viously in the occupation of Americans) I was conducted to a
' front parlour, which contained but ^single chair and several
' trunks of sea-clothes. Mr, Cobbett's first question on seeing
' me was, * Are you an American, sir ?' then, ' What were my

* ' objects in the United States ? Was I acquainted with the
' ' friends of liberty in London ? •; How long had I left ? ' &c.

* He was immediately familiar. I was pleasingly disappointed
' with the general tone of his manners. Mr. Cobbett thinks
' meanly of the American people, but spoke highly of the economy
' of their government. — He does not advise persons in respectable
' circumstances to emigrate, even in the present state of England.
' In his opinion a family who can barely live upon their property,
' will more consult their happiness by not removing to the United
' States. He almost laughs at Mr. Birkbeck's settling in the
' western country. This being the first time I had seen this well-

" known character, I viewed him with no ordinary degree of
' interest. A print by Bartolozzi, executed in 1801, conveys a
' correct outline of his person. His eyes are small, and pleasingly
' good natured. To a French gentleman present, he was atten-

* tive ; with his sons, familiar ; to his servants, easy ; but to all,

* in his tone and manner, resolute and determined. He feels no
' hesitation in praising himself, and evidently believes that he is

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SECOND POSTSCRIPT

eventually destined to be the Atlas of the British nation. His
faculty of relating anecdotes is amusing. Instances when we
meet. My impressions of Mr. Cobbett are, that those who
know him would like him, if they can be content to submit
unconditionally to his dictation. ' Obey me, and I will treat
'you kindly ; if you do not, I will trample on you,' seemed
visible in every word and feature. He appears to feel, in its
fullest force, the sentiment,

'I have no brother, am like no brother:
'I am myself alone.' "

1065. It is unlucky for this blade, that the parties are alive.
First — let the " English woman " speak for herself, which she does,
in these words :

1066. I remember, that, about a week after I came to Hyde
Park, in 1817, a man came to the house in the evening, when Mr.
Cobbett was out, and that he came again the next morning. I
never knew, or asked, what countryman he was. He came to
the back door. I first gave him a chair in a back-room ; but, as
he was a slippery-looking young man, and as it was growing late,
my husband thought it was best to bring him down into the
kitchen, where he staid till he went away. I had no talk with
him. I could not know what condition Mr. Cobbett found the
house in, for I did not come here 'till the middle of August. I
never heard whether the gentleman that lived here before Mr.
Cobbett, was an American, or not. I never in my life said a word
against the people or the country : I am very glad I came to it ;
I am doing very well in it ; and have found as good and kind
friends amongst the Americans, as I ever had in all my life. ,.;

MARY ANN CHURCHER.
Hyde Park,
8th January, 1819.

1067. Mrs. Churcher puts me in mind, that I asked her what
sort of a looking man it was, and that she said he looked like an
Exciseman, and that Churcher exclaimed : " Why, you fool,
" they don't have any Excisemen and such fellows here ! " — I
never was at a county court in America in my life. I was out
shooting. As to the house, it is a better one than he ever entered,
except as a lodger or a servant, or to carry home work. The path,
so far from being trackless, was as beaten as the highway. — The
gentleman who lived here before me was an Englishman, whose
name was Crow. But only think of dirt, two feet deep, in a kitchen !
All is false. — The house was built by Judge Ludlow. It is large,
and very sound and commodious. The avenues of trees before
it the most beautiful that I ever saw. The orchard, the fine shade
and fine grass all about the house ; the abundant garden, the
beautiful turnip field ; the whole a subject worthy of admiration,

275

SECOND POSTSCRIPT

and not a single draw-back. A hearty, unostentatious welcome
from me and my sons. A breakfast such, probably, as the fello\
will never eat again.— I leave the public to guess, whether it
be likely, that I should give a chap like this my opinions about
government or people ! Just as if I did not know the people.
Just as if they were new to me ! The man was not in
the house half an hour in the morning. Judge, then, what
he could know of my manners and character. He was a long time
afterwards at New York. Would he not have been here a second
time, if I had been familiar enough to relate anecdotes to him ?
Such blades are not backward in renewing their visits whenever
they get but a little encouragement. — He, in another part of the
extracts that I have seen, complains of the reserve of the American
Ladies. No " social intercourse," he says between the sexes. That
is to say, he could find none ! I'll engage he could not ; amongst
the whites, at least. It is hardly possible for me to talk about the
public affairs of England and not to talk of some of my own acts ;
but is it not monstrous to suppose, that I should praise myself,
and show that I believed myself destined to be the Atlas of the
British nation, in my conversation of a few minutes with an utter
stranger, and that, too, a blade whom I took for a decent tailor,
my son William for a shop-keeper's clerk, and Mrs. Churcher,
with less charity, for a slippery young man, or, at best, for an
Exciseman ? — As I said before, such a man can know nothing of
the people of America. He has no channel through which to get
at them. And, indeed, tohy should he ! Can he go into the
families of people at home ! Not he, indeed, beyond his own low
circle. Why should he do it here, then ? Did he think he was
coming here to live at free quarter ? The black woman's hut,
indeed, he might force himself into with impunity ; sixpence
would insure him a reception there ; but, it would be a shame,
indeed, if such a man could be admitted to unreserved intercourse
with American ladies. Slippery as he was, he could not slide into
their good graces, and into the possession of their fathers' soul-
subduing dollars ; and so he is gone home to curse the " nasty
" guessing Americans."

WM. COBBETT.

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