Part 7

Long live the aspen and the birch! Only the young have just grounds for prejudice; but even boys soon outgrow the birch, and watch its sinewy motion without a thought of moving too, in shivering accord.

XXI.

AUTUMN.

_November 2d._

The summer is gone. The autumn is here. Not this year, as last, in the plenitude of color, but more soberly, frugally, and sedately. The autumn of 1871 was eminently a color season. Only once in three or four years does Nature make a full pallet. Then the colors are pure, intense, tender, and fresh. Such was last year. The scarlets were brilliant, the orange was pure, the crocuses and yellows were clear and rich. But, as autumnal days steal upon us now, we see already that we shall have picture-forests of only second or third rate brilliancy. The hickories are of a rusty and spotted golden brown. The maples are fine, yet not exquisite.

The sumach is always brilliant. So are some of the vines. The pepperidge-tree (_Nyssa sylvatica_) is very fine. If any one doubts it, let him go over to Prospect Park, in Brooklyn, not far from the stone cottage, on the south side, and he will have an opportunity to review his opinion, and to wonder why it is that one of the most magnificent color trees of the American forests is so little known or introduced into decorated grounds. It ranks among the very first in merit, and stands among the very last in use.

By the way, the parks of New York and Brooklyn should be used for something else and more than mere walking and driving. They are the best schools that America possesses for the study of trees and shrubs. There are few things which our climate will allow to grow that may not be found here, under circumstances which tend to produce their most favorable development. Gentlemen who have country places may, by some little pains, here see just what things they need, how to combine them for the best effects, and how to provide for them soil and site. Once possessed, the love of trees becomes a passion, and inspires more pleasure than one can imagine who has never become an enthusiast in that direction.

One may learn, particularly in the Brooklyn Park, the value of the new _golden_ evergreens of various sorts. They are destined to work a revolution in yards and gardens. Some of the more choice ones are marvels of brilliancy, and carry their glowing yellows right through the winter. One may learn in these parks how to decorate _rocks_. There is many a place in the country abounding in outcropping ledges, huge bowlders, or jutting rocks, which the proprietor wishes he could dig out and cart away. But he is rich who has large rocks upon his grounds. If one will see what use can be made of them, what a frame they furnish for mosses, ferns, vines, and various elegant shrubs, he will cease foolishly spending money to get rid of that which many men would gladly spend money to obtain.

It is a fortunate thing for our country that so much attention is now paid to the planting of trees. We hope to see the day when no longer ninety-nine in every hundred that are planted in streets or yards shall be maples and elms. What a sight would be a road on which one could ride for a mile through an avenue of scarlet oaks, and then for a mile through stately avenue of tulip-trees, and then through lines of scarlet maples, pepperidge-trees, cypress, or long rows of gentlemanly walnut-trees! The time will come when, on the great roads, one may travel a whole day in the shade of stately trees.

It is not enough to plant your own grounds. Every village should line its streets with shade trees. It is not enough to plant shade trees in the streets. They ought to outrun the town, and reach from village to village, until the whole region is filled with shadowed roads. In doing this, we ought to avoid the monotony of a few varieties endlessly reproduced, and make a generous use of the noble sorts that are so abundantly scattered over our forests and fields.

XXII.

PLANT TREES!

April is the time for planting trees. Too much cannot be said to induce people to fill their villages, and the great roads between village and village, with fine shade trees, and private grounds with the choicer kinds. To write a good hymn or plant a good tree makes one a benefactor to his generation.

It is hardly to be expected that the old men, hard-working, and with enough to do at any rate, will trouble themselves to plant trees along public roads. But we may hope for such service from enterprising young men, and even more from the public spirit of young women. Several instances have come to our knowledge in which women have formed associations for beautifying towns and villages by tree-planting, and in a few years have transformed the places. Nor is it unworthy of mention that this has been done by the influence of articles in the _New York Ledger_. A tree-planting week might be made a festival week; or persons might agree to secure a given number during the season.

And here it may be well to say, that, although spring and fall are the best seasons for transplanting, yet trees may be moved in any month in the year,—in the middle of August, if need be. A long row of maples, in Peekskill, were moved—in consequence of grading and fence-building—during the month of July, and only two of them experienced any permanent injury.

But it should be borne in mind that only _small_ trees should be removed in hot months, and after the foliage is expanded, unless one has a mind to go to great expense. But trees six or eight feet high, if taken with ample roots, and especially if moved in damp or wet weather, may be safely transplanted in midsummer. Of course, it will require twice the care and labor which the same tree would need in spring, to produce the same result.

The three or four trees usually planted in grounds are maples, elms, horse-chestnuts, and locusts. These are very well. But there are many kinds of maple seldom seen that deserve a place; such as the English field maple (_Acer compestre_), and notably the American red maple, called swamp maple (_Acer rubrum_), the former for its finely cut leaves, and the latter for early blossoms and for the exquisite scarlet autumn hues of its leaves.

The cut-leaf or fern-leaf white birch is now common in nurseries. It grows rapidly, is extremely graceful, has leaves delicate as a fern, and in winter throws against the sky a tracery of twigs which is beautiful to look upon. It ought to be in every small collection. The _liquidomen_ has a very beautiful leaf, star-like, and changes in autumn to a purplish bronze, quite distinct from all other leaves. If one can get the _tupelo_, which abounds in New England, and may be found in some nurseries, he will secure a tree much neglected, but which ought to be universally diffused.

Few people know how beautiful is the sassafras-tree, when well grown. In the woods it is hardly more than a shrub, or scrawny tree; but when planted young in an open space, and in good soil, it has a peculiar beauty of its own which is not repeated in any other tree.

Why are magnolias so seldom planted? They are as hardy as maples—some of them at least. The _M. conspicua_, the _M. soulangiana_, _M. glanca_, and _M. tripetala_ are easily had, are fine all summer, and are the glory of the spring when their flowers expand.

The American and the English beech, and also the purple beech, should be more often planted. An old beech-tree, grown on good soil, in an open field, and not mutilated, has nothing to fear when standing among all the kings of trees. No trees that we saw in England impressed us as did the beeches at Warwick Castle.

In street planting, and along roadsides, nothing could be finer than the tulip-tree, which grows rapidly, is clean, and bears fine blossoms in early summer. They should be transplanted when small, as they easily die off if moved when large. The same is true of chestnuts, walnuts, and pecan-nuts.

Of evergreens I shall not speak, as they deserve a separate mention. But do not plant them in the city, nor in any close yard. They do not thrive, and become disfigurements rather than ornaments.

XXIII.

FAREWELL TO “SUMMER REST.”

In this bright October day I know, not what Eve felt in leaving Paradise, but what John Milton imagined that she felt. To be sure, I have no such garden as hers must have been, and besides, I leave at a different season of the year; for she inquires feelingly, “Who now shall train these flowers?” whereas my flowers are so nearly spent that there is no need of training them. Tuberoses are gone, verbenas are gone, phloxes, common roses, and all the garden tribe, except scarlet sage, faithful marigolds, that never flinch to the last, and petunias, that are more graceful than they, and full as constant. Besides, there is the slow-footed chrysanthemum, too late for summer, often too late for autumn,—that never gets its Sunday jacket on until it is time to take it off again. But the amplitude of the floral harvest has been reaped. Now we only glean. Still one leaves a home of two months—summer months—not without a fluttering somewhere about the heart. The still days, the deep days, the mellow days, without taxation or excitement, are over. Now for the plunge and rush! Now for _men_. Farewell, Nature!

Good by, top of the hill! from which not a dwelling can be seen, only an horizon of mountains; and where, so often, just after the sun sets, we have lingered alone, in the mystery and inexplicable delight of an evening solitary hour, lifted far above the surrounding earth, and almost as one suspended in the very ether.

Good by, homely stone wall! along which have grown so many weeds which we naughtily admired and cherished, contrary to good farming manners; where so many shrubs, finding good soil, shot up into thickets laced with wild grape vines. Old tumble-down stone wall! Every stone colored and built over with weather-stains of hard moss; stones covered with brilliant ampelopsis, with the three-leaved ivy, fair to see, foul to touch, and with the rampant bitter-sweet! Let no one despise a stone wall, nor judge of it only from the cow’s point of view. It is the city of refuge to all the little fry. Squirrels run in and out, with saucy alertness, every summer’s day. Hares and rabbits find it a bulwark. The hoary old fat woodchuck rejoices in it as in a fenced city. Birds, too, wrens and sparrows, creep in and out, like children playing bo-peep. On these sturdy stones have we sat hours and hours, asking no softer cushion, and desiring no finer spectacle than God sent down from the heavens, or displayed upon the earth. The winter will soon vault into my seat, and a white shroud cover down the neglected old wall on the hill-top! Good by!

Neither can a sensitive nature forget his summer companions, or stint them in their meed of praise and gratitude. Worms whose metamorphosis we have watched; spiders whose webs glitter along the grass at morning and at evening, or mark out geometric figures among the trees,—spiders red, brown, black, green, gray, yellow, and speckled; soft-winged moths, gorgeous butterflies, steel-colored and shining black crickets, locusts, and grasshoppers, and all the rabble of creaking, singing, fiddling fellows besides, which swarm in air and earth,—we bid you all a hearty good-by. Sooth to say, we part from some of you without regret. But for the million we feel a true yearning,—so much have we watched your ways, so many hours has our soul been fed by you through our eyes. Ye are a part of the Great Father’s family.

O, how goodly a book is that which God has opened in this world! Every day is a separate leaf,—nay, not leaf, but volume, with text and note and picture, with every dainty quip and quirk of graceful art, with stores of knowledge illimitable, if one will only humble himself to receive it!

One should not willingly be ungrateful, even to the smallest creatures, or to inanimate objects, that have served his pleasure. And so, to reed and grass, bush and tree, stone and hill, brook and lake, all creeping things and all things that fly, to early birds and late chirping locusts, we wave our hand in grateful thanks!

But to that Providence over all, source of their joy and mine, what words can express what every manly heart must feel? Only the life itself can give thanks for life!

PLEASANT TALK

ABOUT

FRUIT, FLOWERS AND FARMING.

PRELIMINARY.

We understand very well that every region must fashion its _system_ of agriculture upon the nature of its soil, its climate, etc. The _principles_ of agriculture may be alike in every zone, but the _processes_ depend upon circumstances. It would be folly for a new country, without commerce, to imitate an old country with an active commerce; it would be folly, where land is cheap, abundant, and naturally fertile, to adopt the habits of those who are stinted in lands, who have a redundant population, and who find a market for even the weeds which are indigenous to the soil. The husbandry of Holland is suited to a wet soil, and of England to a humid atmosphere and a very even annual temperature. But our soil is subject to extreme wet in spring and dryness in summer, to severe cold and intense heat. A farm whose bottom-lands are reinvigorated by yearly inundations, may thrive under an exacting husbandry that would exhaust an upland farm in a few years. Modes of agriculture must be suited to circumstances. Nevertheless, the experiments and discoveries and practices of every land are worth our careful attention. We do not import _clothes_—but we do _cloth_, to be _made up_ to suit our own habits and wants.

The two extremes of husbandry are, the _adoption_ of every novelty and every experiment indiscriminately, and the _rejection_ of every new thing and every improvement, as indiscriminately. Wisdom consists in “proving all things and holding fast that which is _good_.” We do not advocate large outlays for expensive machines—for fancy cattle, for every new thing that turns up. But when, after full trial, it is ascertained what are the best farm horses, the best breed of cattle, the best milch cows, the most profitable breed of hogs and sheep, and the most skillful routine of cultivation, we think our farmers ought to profit by the knowledge. It is never a good economy to have poor things when you can just as well have the best. This, then, is

OUR CREED.

We believe in small farms and thorough cultivation.

We believe that soil loves to eat, as well as its owner, and ought, therefore, to be manured.

We believe in large crops which leave the land better than they found it—making both the farmer and the farm rich at once.

We believe in going to the bottom of things and, therefore, in deep plowing, and enough of it. All the better if with a sub-soil plow.

We believe that every farm should own a good farmer.

We believe that the best fertilizer of any soil, is a spirit of industry, enterprise, and intelligence—without this, lime and gypsum, bones and green manure, marl and guano will be of little use.

We believe in good fences, good barns, good farmhouses, good stock, good orchards, and children enough to gather the fruit.

We believe in a clean kitchen, a neat wife in it, a spinning-piano, a clean cupboard, a clean dairy, and a clean conscience.

We firmly disbelieve in farmers that will not improve; in farms that grow poorer every year; in starveling cattle; in farmers’ boys turning into clerks and merchants; in farmers’ daughters unwilling to work, and in all farmers ashamed of their vocation, or who drink whisky till honest people are ashamed of them.

ALMANAC FOR THE YEAR.

1. WORK FOR JANUARY.—If you have done as you ought to have done, you have a snug ice-house, with double walls, the space between which is filled with non-conducting substances, as pulverized charcoal, or dried saw-dust, or tanbark, which are mentioned in the order of their value. Cut your blocks of ice of a size and shape with reference to close packing. Cover over thickly with clean straw when the stock of ice is all in. Look out not to lose all your chance in waiting for a better one; sometimes careful folks mean to have such glorious ice, that an open winter cheats them out of any at all.

WARMTH.—The best fire in winter is made up of _exercise_, and the poorest, of _whisky_. He that keeps warm on liquor is like a man who pulls his house to pieces to feed the fire place. The prudent and temperate use of liquor is to let it alone. If you don’t touch it, it certainly won’t hurt you; he that says there is no danger, boasts that he is something more than other men.

The way to summer your cattle well is to winter them well; and half the secret of good wintering is _to keep them warm_. Animal heat is generated in proportion to the abundance and excellence of their food. Exposure to the cold air withdraws heat rapidly, and of course makes more food necessary to re-supply it, just as an open door makes it necessary to have more wood in the stove. If your stock run down in the winter and come out lean and feeble, all the summer will not fully bring them up again.

2. WORK FOR FEBRUARY.—Get out rails, both for present use, and for the fence which you expect to lay in March and April. Cut, haul and stack up near your house a good supply of _fire-wood_; no matter if the forest is within ten rods of your door, your wife ought to have her wood chopped and dried ready for use. Look at every fence upon the place; see if the corners of your rail fences are rotting down; if some rails have not broken; if pig-holes have not been made; if boys and cattle have not thrown down top-rails; and in short, put your fences into proper repair.

Of course your tools will now be overhauled; those with steel blades should be thoroughly cleansed when laid aside in the fall, and if you rub a little oil over them and hang them up, all the better. Repair all that are out of order. These things and all your ordinary work, may be done; and still leave you leisure for _reading_. You should have good books and good papers, and read them carefully for your own sake and for your children’s. A man who brings up a family of ignorant children, cheats his children of their rights, and cheats his country of its rights; it is therefore a crime.

GARDEN WORK.—If there be no snow on the ground, the gardens may be cleared of all rubbish, manure hauled and stacked carefully; and if you have a clay soil, and can catch the ground without frost for a few days, it will mellow and ameliorate it to spade it up, leaving it in lumps and heaps, through which the frost may thoroughly penetrate.

It is time to prepare your hot-bed, if you design having early plants in your garden.

3. WORK FOR MARCH.—Begin the year by thorough, deep plowing, where your fields are in good order for it. Depend upon it, that deep plowing is the only good plowing. Your first crop, generally, will tell you so. But if the subsoil is such that the first crop is rather poor, a year’s exposure of the land will ameliorate it so that your second crop will remunerate all expenses of time and labor laid out in deep plowing. No farmer should be without a subsoil plow who has got his lands clear of stumps and roots.

Take especial care of cows now just coming in with calf. See that those which are heavy are carefully handled, well fed, and warmly sheltered. Mares with foal should be tenderly used, exercised a little, but not put to hard or straining work. _The condition of the mother will to a great extent determine the condition of the offspring._ Cows, mares, sows, ewes, etc. etc., should be kept in a hearty condition, without being _fat_.

ORCHARD.—Do not trouble your trees with premature pruning. Let the axe, and knife, and saw alone. Loosen the dirt or sod around and beneath your trees. The best manure for your trees is fresh mold, or forest soil and lime in the proportion of about one part to ten. Take soft soap, dilute it with urine, scrub your trees with it plentifully, having first scraped off all rough bark. If you would work easily always, never let your work drive you.

4. WORK FOR APRIL.—Gather from your barn the loose hay seed, and sow it upon your wheat fields; it will give good pasturage, after harvest, and make fine stuff for plowing under. Push forward your plowing, but look well to the teams; as cattle and horses are like men, unable in early spring to endure severe labor all at once. Your spring wheat should be got in; barley is a better crop, usually, than rye. The middle and last of the month will keep you in the corn-field. Plow deep—plow thoroughly; and after planting, give the plow no rest, if you wish good corn.

YOUNG ANIMALS.—You will now begin to have plenty of calves, colts, pigs, and lambs. If you mean to have profitable pork, you ought to _push_ your pigs from the birth. Look carefully after your lambs; see that the mothers are well cared for; have dry and warm pens for any that are feeble. A little tenderness to the lambs will be well repaid by and by.

GARDEN.—Your lettuce may be transplanted from the hot-bed the middle and last of this month. A foot apart is none too much, if you wish head-lettuce. Sow your main supplies of radishes, cabbage, tomatoes, etc. Get your pie-plant seed in early as possible; also carrots, parsnips, and salsify or oyster-plant. Prune your gooseberries, currants, and raspberry bushes. Grapes, which were not laid in last fall should be pruned and laid in early in March; but if neglected then, let them be till the leaves are large as the palm of your hand. Look out or worms’ nests, and destroy them promptly.

5. WORK FOR MAY.—Your whole force will be required in this month. If the season has been late or wet, you still have your corn to plant. Pastures will be ready for your stock; remember to salt your stock every week. Weeds will now do their best to take your crops. Your potato crop should be put in, as there will be little danger of frost. After the 15th, you may put out sweet potato slips. If you have not grass-land for pasturage, try for one season the system of _soiling_, _i. e._ keeping up your cattle in the yard or home-lot, and cutting green-fodder for them every day. An acre or two of corn, sown broad-cast, or oats and millet, should be tried. Above all other things, if you have warm, deep sandy loam, put in an acre of lucerne.

During the last of this month, and at the beginning of the next, pruning may be done. If the limbs be large, cover the stump with a coat of paint, wax, grafting clay, or anything that will exclude air and wet.

The garden will require extra labor in all this month. After the 15th, tender bulbs and tubers may be planted, dahlias, amaryllises, tuberoses, etc. Peas will require brush; all your plants from the hot-bed should by this time be well a growing in open air. Roses will be showing their buds. If large roses of a favorite sort are required, more than half the buds should be taken off, and the whole strength of the plant be given to the remainder. The soil for this best of all flowers, cannot be too rich, nor too deep.

6. WORK FOR JUNE—May, June, and September are the _dairy months_. The best butter and the best cheese are usually made in these months. If you are not neat, you do not know how to make cheese or butter. Uncleanliness affects not only the looks, but the quality of butter. Broad, shallow glass pans are the best, but the most expensive. In these milk seldom turns sour in summer thunder-storms. Tin pans are good, but unless the dairy-woman is _scrupulously_ neat, the seams will be filled with residuum of milk and become very foul, giving a flavor to each successive panful. The principal requisites for prime butter are, good cows, good pasture for them, clean pans, cool, airy cellars, clean churns. Let the cream be churned before it is sour or bitter; and when the butter comes, at least three thorough workings will be necessary to drive out all the butter-milk.