Part 1

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THE

RURAL MAGAZINE,

AND

LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE.

VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA, _Seventh Month_, 1820. _No. 7._

FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE VILLAGE TEACHER.

Among the smooth faced urchins that were subject to my little kingdom about fifteen years ago, was a tall awkward boy, named Jonathan Gull. Jonathan was the son of an honest hard working farmer, who lived about two miles from the village, and who had by dint of frugality, acquired some property, and with it a proportional degree of consideration in the eyes of his neighbours. His crops of wheat were generally large, and he made a journey to the metropolis once a year, to dispose of his grain and produce. On these occasions his wife and a grown up daughter would usually accompany him to see the city and to buy cheap goods. It did one's heart good to witness the return of the honest farmer--the smile of self-complacency with which he greeted the members of his family, and the eagerness with which he inquired respecting the farm, Old Roan, and the young colt, and brindle, the cow, and the litter of young pigs; and the air of importance which he assumed towards his neighbours, who thronged around him to hear the latest news-what Boney was doing--the yellow fever--and the price of wheat. His hearty greeting of his acquaintance; the animation which sparkled in his sunburnt face; his short thick set figure, decked out in a suit of homespun grey, with large brass buttons; his arms a kimbo; and the broad burst of merriment, that, amidst the discussion of graver subjects, occasionally broke forth at some sly turn, or second hand joke of the traveller; altogether formed the beau ideal of homely rustic happiness, and prosperity. Nor was the greeting and excitation less on the part of the wife and daughter. As the wagon was emptied of its load, treasure after treasure met the eyes of the delighted group of children and neighbours. Here were a new set of milk pans, and a churn for the dairy; a dozen of pewter spoons, as smooth and as bright as silver, and scrubbing brushes, and knives and forks to repair the waste of years. There glittered lots of new calico, as fine as red and yellow could make them; papers of pins and needles, and all the sundry articles which complete the stock of an industrious housewife; while in another place were cautiously hid, lest they should excite undue envy, the silver teaspoons and teapot, and the bundles of coffee and tea and white sugar, together with the tortoise shell combs and gold ear-rings which the good natured husband had been importuned to buy. Let not the reader turn away with contempt from this simple picture; the event was an important one in the family of farmer Gull, and supplied it with a stock, not only of necessities and luxuries, but of conversation and pleasure for a full season. But alas! in the train of all this prosperity and gladness marched the forerunners of decay. Farmer Gull's heavy purse of shining dollars had won the heart of many a knight of the counter, and many were the plans laid to obtain a a closer intimacy with their owner. Here Mrs. Gull was invited to sit down in the parlour to rest herself; and there was she pressed to stay to tea. One talked to her about her butter and her cheese, and another about her rosy faced children. In short, it so happened, that in the course of a few years, she had at least half a dozen acquaintances in the shopkeeping line, each of whom were under engagement to spend a short time during the Dog-days at Melrose; for so was the farm now styled. With these new acquaintances, new views and expectations filled the minds of the wife and daughters. The old family Bible and the Pilgrim's Progress were less frequently read and quoted; the calico short gowns in which they used to visit their neighbours of a summer evening gave place to dresses of silk and white muslin, and their talk was now of the fashions and the new novels. Among other changes it was determined to make a merchant of Jonathan, and a place was accordingly engaged for him with the particular friend of the family, Mr. Seersucker.----I was struck with the appearance of the lad when he came to bid me good bye and take his books from school. He was dressed in a suit of tidy homespun, made up by the hands of his mother and sisters, and which was, from the sheep that furnished the wool to the thread with which the garments were sewed, the produce of his father's farm. The good old fashioned notions of domestic industry were not then extinct. Our farmers had not then found that it was cheaper to keep a family of strapping daughters idle at home, and send the wool to one factory to be carded and spun, and to another to be wove and dyed, and then to a fop of a tailor to be made up into coats, than to have the cards, the wheel, and the loom at their own fire-side; giving wholesome occupation to their family, enlivening the gloomy hours of winter, and cementing by good humour and mutual assistance the ties of family and kindred. We had not then found out the grand modern secret of economy; that it is better to pamper a few inordinate manufacturing establishments, with all their consequences, of a degraded and dependant population and high taxes, than to let every individual pursue his own interests, and to encourage that best of domestic manufactures where the workshop is the kitchen of the farmer, and his wife and children the contented and uncorrupted labourers.

But I find myself perpetually digressing from my story, and must bid a truce to these rambling thoughts. Jonathan, as I was saying, was tidily dressed; his hair was combed smooth on his forehead, and hanging long behind, and the awkwardness of his figure, was scarcely apparent in the expression of good health and contentment that animated him. It soon became apparent, however, that citizen Jonathan would not long be contented with his homely garb. At his first visit home I observed that he had been in the hands of a fashionable hair-dresser, who had given him the true Bonapartean topknot. His shirt collar was stretched up till it half covered his ears and cheeks, and he sported a clouded and twisted cane, while the remainder of his dress was yet unchanged. By degrees the exuvia of the clown fell off, as I have seen a snake in the spring slowly emerge from the shrivelled skin which she has cast, or as a locust may sometimes be seen breaking through his faded coat of mail and sporting in gaudy robes of green and gold; or as you may observe in the ponds a kind of doubtful animal, half frog and half tadpole. Jonathan became in a year or two the admiration of all the neighbouring milk maids, and was universally accounted a fine gentleman. He had not be sure ciphered further than Practice, and was but a dull hand, when a boy, at Murray's grammar; but so wonderfully had a city life sharpened his wits, that his old master himself was quite in the back ground when Jonathan was present; he poured forth such a torrent of words and discoursed so fluently about politics and trade and great men. Then came the days of delusion and speculation. Jonathan was now of age, and as he had what was called a good turn for business, and a strong back to support him, he was solicited to engage in trade. A partnership was accordingly formed, and "GULL, SNIPE, & Co." glittered in golden capitals across Market Street. A capital of some thousands was paid down, while goods to the amount of hundreds of thousands were bought and sold.

In the meantime farmer Gull was floating on the very spring tide of prosperity. His wealth, which was yearly increasing, gave him great weight in the neighbourhood; he was made overseer of the poor, and there was a talk of sending him to Congress. When that ill starred measure which created at a birth a swarm of banks, more greedy and more lean than Pharaoh's kine, was adopted, farmer Gull partook of the delusion. He was made a director of the bank of Potosi, which was located in our village, and from that moment gave himself up to dreams of imaginary wealth. He stocked his farm with merino sheep, at an average of fifty dollars a head, and calculated that in six years he should double his money. Six years have elapsed, and farmer Gull's whole flock will not now sell for the cost of a single ewe. He mortgaged his farm to the bank, that he might buy a neighbouring property, and prosecute some expensive improvements in the way of mills and factories. At home every thing was changed. Mistress Gull rode to church in a handsome carriage, which Jonathan had sent up from town; and Polly and Biddy, instead of being at the milk pail by sunrise, lay abed till breakfast time and then came down with pale and languid countenances, and their hair buckled into "kill-beaus" and "heart breakers," to partake of coffee which unnerved their system, and rendered them feverish and nervous till dinner time. Why should I proceed with my story? The sequel may be read in the present circumstances of many a once thriving family. The lean kine of Simon devoured his fat kine, and distress and confusion covered the face of the country. Gull, Snipe, & Co., after a few years of fictitious prosperity, and proportional extravagance, went the way of half Market Street. Farmer Gull was their security, and had to make heavy payments to the bank. His own speculations had proved ruinous, the clouds became continually darker and thicker around him, and have at length burst upon his head. His whole property is insufficient to pay the mortgages, and his stock and furniture will be sold next week by the sheriff. Such is the termination of farmer Gull's career. His family is incapacitated for its present destitute situation, and has lost the inclination and the power of being frugal: he himself, I observe, bears his troubles with an appearance of unusual fortitude. He preserves his cheerful spirits, and has become the life of a circle of embarrassed farmers that frequent a tavern opposite the window of my study. I see him there daily--sometimes to be sure moody and disconsolate, but more often leading the chorus of some Bacchanalian song, or retailing the merry jests of some quondam acquaintance, of a lawyer, or bank director. Alas! for my countrymen;--when shall we see again the days of honest dealing, sturdy frugality, unsophisticated manners, and household industry?

FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE DESULTORY REMARKER.

No. VI.

I've felt full many a heart-ach in my day, At the mere rustling of a muslin gown, And caught some dreadful colds, I blush to say, While shivering in the shade of beauty's frown. They say her smiles are sunbeams--it may be-- But never a sunbeam would she throw on me.

It has been said by a writer, whose genius and scholarship are in the highest degree honourable to his country, that our Parnassus is fruitful only in weeds, or at best in underwood. Notwithstanding the general correctness of this assertion, a modest wild-flower now and then delights the eye, and points that rainbow adventurer HOPE to the brilliant future; in which some master of song shall disclose in a broad and clear light,

_Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray._

American literature, it must be admitted, is comparatively feeble in many of its branches; but while the names of FRANKLIN and RUSH, DENNIE and BROWN, of WALSH and IRVING, are remembered, it is entitled to the respectful consideration, even of foreign criticism.

The extract given above is made from a writer, who has furnished some evidence of poetic talent in sundry occasional playful pieces, published originally in the New York Evening Post, under the signature of CROAKER & Co. However unprepossessing may be the name which he has chosen to assume, his notes instead of reminding us, as might be inferred, of the frog or the raven; at times successfully rival those of the favourite songsters of the grove. From this stanza, we learn that the author is a BACHELOR; who like too many of his brethren, delights to dwell on the fancied cruelty of the fair; and to pour the unheeded complaints of his sorrows on the dull and listless ear of indifference. To this portion of society, little commisseration is extended from any quarter; and the general sentiment is responsive to that contained in the following couplet of POPE:

_Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore; Full well they merit all they feel and more._

Unpopular as such a doctrine might appear, this condition of life has had its advocates and defenders. Amongst these may be placed that truly great man, the eloquent and accomplished apostle PAUL. When adverting to this subject, he discovers something of an unsocial disposition where he says, "For I would that all men were even as myself."[1] "But I speak this by permission, and not of commandment," says he, as if fearful that speculative opinion might be received from the weight of his character as authority perfectly valid and conclusive. DRYDEN has asserted, that "a true painter naturally delights in the liberty which belongs to the bachelor's estate." However specious this position may appear, the liberal arts are more indebted to the charities of life, and to the influence of female excellence, than the author of such a sentiment would be willing to admit. A vivid perception of physical and moral beauty, delicacy of feeling, and intellectual refinement, are indispensably requisite in the artist who aspires to eminence in his profession. Nothing has a more direct and efficient tendency to promote elegance and correctness of taste than the society of enlightened and polished females. The absence of care is another immunity which the BACHELOR is said to enjoy; but this as well as other assumptions in his favour, but serves to illustrate the fact, that on almost any subject whatever, to use the language of Sir ROGER DE COVERLY, much may be said on both sides."

[1] 1 Cor. chap. 7.

In all ages there have been from various causes, a formidable array of individuals of this class. The circumstances connected with the present times are, unfortunately, well calculated to increase their number. To the usual disastrous consequences produced by "beauty's frown," the disappointments and gloomy prospects in business, deep rooted habits of idleness and extravagance, by which the present period is peculiarly distinguished, may also be added. Active industry, frugality, and temperance, should be sedulously cultivated as moral virtues; having a most important agency in augmenting the stock of individual, social, and political happiness. But unamiable and repulsive as the character of a BACHELOR may too frequently be, is it necessarily so?

Can he contemplate the condition of childhood, surrounded with the pallid spectres of poverty, and shooting forth luxuriantly into all the noxious forms of ignorance and vice;--can he walk our streets or wharves when his ear is saluted with their lisping imprecations;--or witness their utter disregard of the duties which appertain to the Sabbath,--without seriously interrogating his own bosom--In what way can any exertions of mine improve their condition, and promote their true interests?

Can he behold the increase of intemperance and crime in all the ramifications of society, without feeling the influence of those sacred ties which bind him to that community of which he is a member; and without resolving to use all diligence to arrest their further extension, so far as his influence and example may reach?

Can he listen with unconcern to the cries of oppressed humanity, and view without emotion, those objects of wretchedness which almost daily present themselves in the most affecting shapes, and forget the intimate relationship, and the reciprocity of duties which exist between every branch of the human family, and the justice and force of the claims of distress upon every generous and sympathetic heart?

He can no where in the moral or physical economy of the world, find an example of existences which are independent of all connection with the present, past, and future. The universe has been with great propriety compared to a complex machine, "a stupendous whole," every part of which has its relative and proper function to perform, and discord and confusion are the consequence of each irregularity of movement.

From Nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth, or ten thousandth breaks the chain alike.

It should be the business of _every one_ to cultivate such sentiments as those which are contained in the extract below, given from a work[2] which the celebrated DUGALD STEWART declared when presenting a copy of it to one of our countrymen, now a resident of Philadelphia, to be the finest piece of composition in the English language: "_That to feel much for others, and little for ourselves, that to restrain our selfish, and to indulge our benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human nature; and can alone produce among mankind that harmony of sentiments and passions in which consists their whole grace and propriety._" Even a BACHELOR, actuated by principles of this character, might emerge into the character of a worthy, useful, and amiable man! ☞

[2] "Theory of Moral Sentiments," by ADAM SMITH, author of the "Wealth of Nations."

Extracts from C. E.'s Common-Place Book.

_Cheap food for horses, from M'Arthur's Financial Facts, 8vo. p. 258._

The author lived in London and kept three horses which he fed as follows.

Two trusses and a half of clover or meadow hay cut and mixed with four trusses of wheat, or barley straw, when cut up, make nearly equal quantities in weight; two heaped bushels of this mixture equal to fourteen pounds weight, are given to each horse in twenty-four hours, being previously mixed with half a peck of corn, (in England oats) ground or chopped, weight 5_lbs._ with water to wet it; that is, 7 pounds of hay; 7 pounds of straw; 5 pounds of meal; given at six different times, each day and evening. Add 5 pounds of hay at night, makes 24 pounds to each horse in twenty-four hours; and it kept them much fatter than with double the corn each day unground, two trusses of hay a week.

An ox, unworked, eats about 32 pounds of meadow hay per day.

An ox at work eats 40 pounds a day.

If fed in the stable each head of horned cattle will eat 130 pounds green clover just cut, or 30 pounds clover hay a day.

At work, 3 horses eat in all, 48 stones a week of hay, also 48 quarts of oats a week each horse.

At work 18 horses in 12 days, eat 430 stones of hay, which is 14 stones a week for each horse, also 64 quarts of oats a week for each.

An idle horse eat 14 stones of hay a week and no corn.

_Native Grape Vine._

AUGUST 22, 1807.

In the garden of Joseph Cooper, Esq. of New Jersey, just opposite to Philadelphia, is one grape vine which with its branches, covers 2170 square feet of ground. On this one vine are now grapes supposed to be forty bushels, and probably much more. It produced last year one barrel of wine, which was made without sugar, and is judged to be quite as good as Madeira of the same age, by a man brought up in the Madeira wine trade. Under this vine the ground produced a good crop of grass this season. It is a native American vine, transplanted from that same neighbourhood.[3]

[3] A short time before the decease of this very respectable agriculturalist, I had the pleasure of a visit from him, I believe in the year 1815; when I remarked, I had heard much about his celebrated vine from other people, and I now wished some account of it from himself. He informed me, (and I put his statement in writing) that the year previous, he had taken from this vine 40 bushels of grapes, which weighed 2000_lbs._, from which was made upwards of 100 gallons of wine, the pure juice of the grape; without either water or sugar, or any admixture whatever. The vine and its branches covered the eighteenth part of an acre. Now according to our friend C. E.'s mode of calculation, which is rather too sanguine for practical men, if an eighteenth part produce 100 gallons, a whole acre of course would produce 1800 gallons. It continues to flourish, and bore last year the usual quantity of grapes. Though this is an extraordinary vine, and has received more attention than could be given to any large number by a common sized family, yet it evidently shows the cultivation of this description of vine might be made productive.

Every farmer in the middle and southern states might, if he chose, have such a vine; or at least ten or more smaller ones, which would yield as much, and without any material expense. If this were the case, wine would be so plentiful and so cheap, that every labouring man might have it as a pleasant, cheering and invigorating beverage, and would do more to extinguish the hateful vice of drunkenness than perhaps any other agent within our control.

This sentiment is corroborated by the fact, that in the vine countries of France, where weak wines are as abundant as cider, in a plentiful season in Pennsylvania, and where all, poor and rich, drink of them freely, there is comparatively no drunkenness. The writer of this note, some years ago, travelled in France in different directions about 1200 miles; and took notice in the whole journey of but two drunken men, and excepting three or four instances, always had his accommodations at an inn, the most likely place to find intemperance. As you go northward into the colder countries of Holland and the north of Germany, where the vine cannot be cultivated but with great difficulty, and wine is too high priced to be commonly used, you may observe the progress of drunkenness almost by the degrees of latitude. Immediately previous to this journey in France, I spent several months in Germany, where I drank coffee regularly twice a day, and was afflicted almost daily with headach. In France, where I seldom used coffee, but frequently weak wine at breakfast, as well as at other times, I had no headach. Should this be generally the effect, it would be another reason in favour of cultivating the vine in the United States. I am no friend to wine bibbers, nor would I be willing to encourage in the remotest degree the use of inebriating liquors, but I should like very much to see a vine such as Joseph Cooper's on every farm in our country.--ED.

If 2170 square feet produced 32 gallons, then one acre which is 43,560 square feet would produce about 20 barrels, or 640 gallons but allowing space for avenues, say about 15 barrels, or 480 gallons.

It is expected that the crop of grapes for 1807 will produce much more than those of 1806.

One acre yielding 480 gallons, at $1.00, is - - - $480.00 at $1.50, is - - - $720.00

This holds out a profitable culture to farmers.

C. E.

TO THE EDITORS OF THE RURAL MAGAZINE.