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 University of California Berkeley 
 
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 EARTH 
 
 SCIENCES 
 LIBRARY 
 
YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 Treating of the Face of the Country, the Climate, the Soil, 
 the Products, the Mode of Cultivating the Land, the Prices 
 of Land, of Labour, of Food, of Raiment ; of the Expenses 
 of House-keeping, and of the usual manner of Living ; of 
 the Manners and Customs of the People ; and of the 
 Institutions of the Country, Civil, Political, and Religious. 
 
 IN THREE PARTS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Containing, I. A Description of the Face of the Country, 
 the Climate, the Seasons, and the Soil, the facts being taken 
 from the Author's daily notes during a whole year. II. An 
 Account of the Author's agricultural experiments in the 
 Cultivation of the Ruta Baga, or Russia, or Swedish Turnip, 
 which afford proof of what the climate and soil are. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1818. 
 
EARTH 
 SCIENCES 
 LIBRARY 
 
 [entered at Stationers' 
 
 T^O n.P A 
 
 J. Al'Creery, Printer, 
 B]lc-Hore-Coort, London. 
 
CONTENTS OF PART I. 
 
 General Preface to the Three Parts 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 Cli 
 mate, Seasons, and Soil 9 
 
 CHAP. n. RUTABAGA. Culture, Mode of preser 
 ving, and Uses of the Ruta Baga, some 
 times called the Russia, and sometimes 
 the Swedish, Turnip ...... 98 
 
 910591 
 

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 9 
 
 
 *0rij W Jen? cf r? 
 
 GENERAL PREFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 THREE PARTS. 
 
 1. THROUGHOUT tke whole of this work it is 
 my intention to number the paragraphs, from 
 one to the end 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 reference 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 de 
 sire the reader to look at paragraph such a num 
 ber 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 re 
 peated in the place, where the reference would 
 be pointed out to him. 
 
 PART I. B 
 
n GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 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 Englishmen any thing like a cor 
 rect 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 them 
 selves 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 smil 
 ing 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 1 have 
 done. I mean to give an account of a YEAR'S T 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. in 
 
 RESIDENCE, ten months in this Island and two 
 months in Pennsylvania, in whipty { wpnt back 
 to the first ridge of mountains. In the course 
 pf the THREE PARTS, of which this work will 
 consist, each part making a small volume, every 
 thing which appears to jne useful to persons 
 intending to come to this country shall be com 
 municated; 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, Legis* 
 laiors, Presidents, all are farmers. A farmer 
 here is not the poor dependent wretch that a 
 Yeoman-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 
 
 3 2 
 
IV GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 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 experimental 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, 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. V 
 
 from the age of six years, when I climbed up 
 the side of a steep sandrock, and there scooped 
 me out a plot four feet square to make me a 
 garden, and the soil for which I carried up iu 
 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 pre 
 sents 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 difficul 
 ties 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 Penn 
 sylvania, in 1806, and some of which are now 
 nearly forty feet hig h 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. TJiere is no 
 part of the business, which, first or last, I have 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 perforriied with iny owh hands. And, as 
 to it I owe very little to books, except that of 
 TULL ; for J never read a good one in my life, 
 except a French bd6k, called the Manuel du 
 Jardinier. 
 
 8. As to farming, I Was bred at the ploiugh- 
 tail, arid in the Hop-Gardens of Farnhatn 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 be 
 come fainter and fainter as you go frofn it in 
 every direction. I have had, besides, great ex 
 perience 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 1 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 
 
GENERAL PREFACE. vii 
 
 had to be grateful to God. These pursuits, in 
 nocent in themselves, instructive in their very 
 nature, and always tending to preserve health, 
 have a constant, a never-failing source, of recre 
 ation 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 plea 
 sure inexhaustible. To that of the whole of 
 our English books on these matters, I then ad 
 ded 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 
 JETHRO TULL, to the principles of whom 1 
 owe more than to all my other reading and all 
 my experience, and of which principles 1 hope 
 to find time to give a sketch, at least, in some 
 future PART of this work. 
 
viii GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 , 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 in 
 duce 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 my 
 self am bound to England for life. My no 
 tions 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 
 attachment to the people of England, and es 
 pecially 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 them 
 selves. 
 
 WM. COBBETT. 
 
 North Hempsted, Long Island, 2lst April, 1818. 
 
 ..... . . CTiOiiJ 
 
 . 
 
 , . 
 
 i 
 
A 
 
 YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 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, Sea 
 sons, and Soil. 
 
 LONG ISLAND is situated in. what may b& called 
 the middle climate of that part of the United 
 States, which, coast^vis, > extoidSi,fKptii;B^^ton 
 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 
 
10 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 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 sum 
 mer than in other parts. The same crops will, 
 I believe, grow in them all. 
 
 12. The situation of Long Island is this : It 
 is about 130 miles long, and, on an average, 
 about 8 miles broad. 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 Sta.te of Now .York (to which Long Island 
 belongs) and into a part of the State of Con 
 necticut, At the end nearest the city of New 
 York it is separated from the scite 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 hor 
 ses, which work 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 
 
- 
 
 CHA. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &fc. 11 
 
 divided into townships. And, the ihunicipal 
 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 kills, which runs froM 
 one end of the Island to the other. The two 
 sides are flats, or, rather, very easy and imper 
 ceptible 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 1 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 experience 
 a want of water. A large rain-Water cistern td 
 take the run from the house, and duck-pond 
 to take that from the barn, afford an ample 
 supply ; and I can truly say, that as to the arti 
 cle 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 theti ail 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 
 
12 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 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, 
 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 
 exceptions) slovenliness about the homesteads, 
 and particularly about the dwellings oj labourers. 
 Mr. BIRKBECK complains of this; and, indeed, 
 what a contrast with the homesteads and cot- 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 13 
 
 tages, 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 com 
 pared with those of the labourers in France, 
 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 floor is crowned 
 with a garland of roses or honey-suckle ; in 
 stead 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 
 
14 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 grow and flourish here. This want of attention 
 in 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 gen 
 tlemen's gardens, kept as clean as drawing- 
 rooms, with grass as even as a carpet. From 
 endeavouring to imitate perfection men arrive at 
 mediocrity ; and, those who never have seen, or 
 heard of perfection, in these matters, will natu 
 rally 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 tur 
 nips, and wheat, and rye, and rape, as in Eng 
 land. The frost comes and sweeps all vegeta 
 tion and verdant existence from the face of the 
 earth. The wheat and rye live ; but, they lose 
 all their 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 Eng 
 land! 
 
 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 
 1 shall sufficiently describe the Soil, when I 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 15 
 
 come to treat of my own actual experience of 
 it. 1 do not like, in these cases, general descrip. 
 tiom. 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 20th 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. 
 1317. 
 
 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 de 
 bauchees 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 grpw a little. 
 
 11. Heavy thunder and rain in the night, 
 and all this day. 
 
 12. Rain till noon. Then warm and 
 beautiful. 
 
16 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 May 13. Warm, fine day. Saw, in the garden, 
 lettuces, onions, carrots, and pars 
 nips, 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. 
 
 1 5. Warm and fair. The farmers are 
 beginning to plant their Indian Corn. 
 
 16. 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 
 a June day. 
 
 18. 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. 
 
 20. Fine and warm. A good cow sells, 
 with a calf by her side, for 45 dol 
 lars. A steer, two years old, 20 dol 
 lars. A working ox, five years old, 
 40 dollars. 
 
 21. Fine and warm day ; but the morn- 
 
:HAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 1? 
 
 1817. 
 
 May 21. ing and evening coldish. The 
 cherry-trees in full bloom, and the 
 pear-trees nearly the same. Oats, 
 sown in April, up, and look ex 
 tremely 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 cab 
 bage 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. 
 
 2*7. 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. 
 ART i. e 
 
18 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 May 29. No fires in parlours now, except 
 now-and-then in the mornings and 
 evenings. 
 
 30. Fine and warm. Apples have drop 
 ped their blossoms. And now the 
 grass, the wheat, the rye, and every 
 thing, which has stood the year, or 
 winter through, appear to have over 
 taken their like in Old England. 
 
 31. Coldish morning and evening. 
 June 1. Fine warm day ; but saw a man, in 
 
 the evening, covering something in 
 a garden. It was kidney-beans, and 
 he feared & 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 Lo 
 custs, 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 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 19 
 
 1817. 
 
 June 3. under the name of corn, they con 
 found under the name of grain. 
 The Indian Corn, in its ripe seed 
 state, consists of an ear, which 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 afoot 
 long ; and 1 have seen many, each 
 of which weighed more than eighteen 
 ounces, avoirdupois weight. They 
 are long or short, heavy or light, ac 
 cording to the land and the culture. 
 I was at a Tavern, in the village of 
 North Hempstead, last fall (of 181 7) 
 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 pf age, and who, 
 from his high-blooded ignorance of 
 vulgar things, I suppose, had swal 
 lowed a whole ear of corn, which, 
 as the newspaper told us, had well 
 nigh choaked the Noble Lord. The 
 c 2 
 
20 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 June 3. Landlord had just been showing 
 me some of his fine ears of Corn ; 
 and 1 took the paper out of my 
 pocket, and read the paragraph: 
 " What !" said he, " swallow a whole 
 " ear of corn at once ! 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 beau 
 tiful 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 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 21 
 
 1817. 
 
 June 3. 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 (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 abundance 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. 
 
.22 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 June 4. Fine rain. Began about ten o'clock. 
 
 5. Rain nearly all day. 
 
 6. Fine and warm. Things grow sur- 
 prizingly. 
 
 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 Flow 
 ering Locust only begins to show 
 leaf. It will, by and by, make up, by 
 its beauty, for its shyness at present. 
 
 10. Fine warm day. The cattle are up 
 
 to their eyes in grass. 
 
 5 I ; 1 1 . 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 Pennsylvania. 
 This arises, I suppose, from our 
 nearness to the sea. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 23 
 
 .-- *^^..- 
 1817. 
 
 June 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. 1 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. 
 
 18. Fine day. Green peas fit to gather 
 in pretty early gardens, though only 
 of the common hotspur sort. May- 
 duke cherries begin to be ripe. 
 
 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 tvater, of which here is none. 
 
24 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 June 19. Flies are bred in Jtlfh, of which 
 none shall be near me as long as I 
 can use a shovel and a broom. They 
 will folio w fresh meat and fish. Have 
 neither, or be very careful. I have 
 this day put all these precautions 
 in practice ; and, now let us see the 
 result. 
 
 20. Fine day. Carrots and parsnips, 
 sown on the 3d and 4th instant, all 
 up, and in rough leaf! 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 cabbages for the winter 
 crop. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &e. 25 
 
 1817. 
 
 July 1. 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 3d 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 themorn- 
 ing. 
 
 8. Fine hot day. Wear no waistcoat 
 no w r: except in the morning and 
 evening. T& 
 
 .9. Fine hot day. Apples to make 
 puddings and pies ; but our house 
 keeper does not kqow how to mak$ 
 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 conveni 
 ent, or, rather, a very little incon- 
 
26 /; CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 1817. H 
 
 July 10. venient, affair. Shoes, trowsers, 
 shirt and hat. No plague of dres 
 sing and undressing ! 
 
 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 cher 
 ries, 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. 
 
 16. Fine hot day. Fine young onions, 
 sown on the 8th of June. 
 
 17. Fine hot day. Harvest of wheat, 
 
iAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 27 
 
 817. 
 
 July 17. rye, oats and barley, half done. 
 But, indeed, what is it to do when 
 the weather does so much ! 
 
 18. 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. 
 
 2J. Fine hot day; but heavy rain at 
 night. Flies, a few. Not more than 
 in England. My son John, who 
 has just returned from Pennsyl 
 vania, says they are as great tor 
 ments there as ever. At a friend's 
 house (a farm-house) there, two 
 quarts of flies were caught in one 
 window in one day ! I do not be 
 lieve 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. 1 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 
 
28 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 July 21. sweep all round about once every 
 week at least. 
 
 22. Fine hot day. 
 
 23. Fine hot day. Sowed Buck-wheat 
 in a piece of very poor ground. 
 
 24. Fine hot day. Harvest (for grain) 
 nearly over. 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, without any thatching, 
 'till they are wanted to be taken in 
 during the winter, and, sometimes 
 they remain out for a whole year. 
 Nothing can prove more clearly 
 than this fact, the great difference 
 between this climate and that of En 
 gland, 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 off the farm by the 
 wind. The crop is sometimes thresh 
 ed 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 29 
 
 1817. 
 
 July 24. horses, or oxen, going abreast tram 
 ple 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 or 
 der 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 pea, men- 
 
SO CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 July 25. tioned 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 
 Boroughmongers, 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 un 
 der 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 31 
 
 1817. 
 
 July 28. moment the Aurora appears, 1 am 
 in the Orchard. It is impossible 
 for any human being to lead a plea- 
 santer 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. 1 
 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 dews on 
 the high grass. The Indian Corn 
 shoots up now so beautifully ! 
 
 30. Still melting hot. 
 
 31. Same weather. 
 
 August 1. 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 ail 
 ments. Head always 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 
 
32 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 August 2. this weather we always have our 
 
 friendly breeze. Not a single mus- 
 
 quito 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 hole 
 
 6. Fine hot day. 
 
 7. Appearances forebode rain. I have 
 observed that, when rain is ap 
 proaching, 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 
 teases. However, this foreknow 
 ledge of rain is of little use here ; 
 for, when it comes, it is sure to be 
 soon gone ; and to be succeeded by 
 a sun, which restores all to rights. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 33 
 
 1817. 
 
 August 8. I wondered, at first, why I never 
 saw any barometers in people's 
 houses, as almost every 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 or 
 der 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. Heavy rains 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. 
 
 16. Very hot indeed. 85 degrees, the 
 thermometer hanging under the Lo- 
 
34 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Aug. 16. cust trees and swinging about with 
 the breeze. The dews are now like 
 heavy showers. 
 
 17. Fine hot day. Very hot. I fight 
 the Borough-villains, 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 ba 
 con. Resolved to have no more fresh 
 meat, 'till cooler weather comes. 
 Those who have a mind to swallow, 
 or be swallowed by, jfties, 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. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 35 
 
 1817. 
 
 Aug. 23. She says she has never read Peter 
 Pindar's account of the dialogue be 
 tween the King and the Cottage- 
 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 waistooat 
 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. 1. Fine and hot. 
 
 2.' Fine and hot. 
 
 3. Famously hot. Fine breezes. Be 
 gan imitating the Disciples, at least 
 D 2 
 
56 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Sept. 3." 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 imita 
 tion 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 
 come to perfection in it. Our Corn 
 is very fine. 1 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 f 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 37 
 
 1817. 
 
 Sept. 10. Appearances for rain; and, it is 
 time; for my neighbours begin 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 re 
 quires nearly as much sweat to get 
 it up, as we get water. 
 
 11. No rain; but cloudy. 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 afire 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. 
 
 18. Same weather. Wear stockings now 
 and a waistcoat and neck-handker 
 chief. 
 
 19. Same weather. Finished our Indian 
 Corn, which, on less than 4 rods, 
 or perches, of ground, produced 447 
 ears. It was singularly well culti 
 vated. It was the long yellow Corn. 
 
38 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Sept. 19. 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 1. 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 Kid 
 ney 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 39 
 
 1817. 
 
 October 4. neighbours give me quinces. We 
 
 are also cutting up and drying 
 
 peaches. 
 
 5. Very fine and warm. Dwarf Kid 
 ney beans very fine. 
 
 6. Very fine and warm. Cutting Suck- 
 wheat. 
 
 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 jall-pipins 
 for us. One picked up to-day 
 weighed 12f ounces avoirdupois 
 weight. The average weight is 
 about 9 ounces, or, perhaps, 10 
 ounces. This is the finest of all 
 apples. Hardly any core. Some 
 none at all. The richness of the 
 pine-apple without the roughness. 
 If the King could have seen one of 
 these in a dumpling! This is not the 
 Newtown 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 
 
40 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 Oct. 7. 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. 
 
 1 5. Beautiful day. 56 degrees in shade. 
 Here is a month of October ! 
 
 16. Same weather. 51 degrees in shade. 
 
 17. Same weather, but a little wanner 
 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. - 41 
 
 1817. 
 Oct. 18. 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 ano 
 ther day. Threshing Buckiuheat 
 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 winnow 
 ing. The men have been away at 
 a horse-race ; so that it has laid out 
 in the field, partly threshed and part 
 ly not, for five days. If rain had 
 come, it would have been of no con 
 sequence. All would have been dry 
 again directly afterwards. What a 
 stew a man would be in, in Eng 
 land, if he had his grain lying 
 about out of doors in this way ! 
 
42 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Oct. 24. The cost of threshing and winnow 
 ing 60 bushels was 7 dollars, I/. Us. 
 6d. English money, that is to say, 
 4s. 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. 
 f j ; 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 43 
 
 1817. 
 
 Oct. 28. 12 pounds! I say twelve, and mea 
 sured 2 feet 5 inches round. From 
 common 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. 1. 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 Po 
 tatoes. 
 
 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 de 
 grees. 
 
 9. Very fine. 
 
44 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 Nov. 10. Very fine. 
 
 11. Very fine. When I got up this 
 morning, I found the thermometer 
 hanging on the Locust trees, drip 
 ping with dew, at 62 degrees. Left 
 off my coat again. 
 r ?^ 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 
 lettuces ; 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. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 45 
 
 1817. 
 Nov. 17. Cloudy. Warm. 
 
 18. Same weather. 55 degrees in shade. 
 
 19. Frost, and the ground pretty hard. 
 
 20. Very fine indeed. Warm. 55 de 
 grees in shade. 
 
 21. Same weather. 
 
 22. Cold, damp air, and cloudy. 
 
 23. Smart frost at night. 
 
 24. \ 
 
 25 f 
 
 > Same. Warm in the day time. 
 
 2(5. ( 
 27. J 
 
 28 } 
 
 Same ; but more warm in the day. 
 
 30. Fine warm and beautiful day; no 
 frost at night. 57 degrees in shade. 
 Dec. 1. 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 indispensably necessary) shall 
 be described when I come to speak 
 of the management of these several 
 plants. 
 2. Fine warm rain. 56 in shade. 
 
46 
 
 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Dec. 3. 
 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 
 Very fair and pleasant, but frost 
 sufficiently hard to put a stop to 
 our getting up and stacking tur 
 nips. Still, however, the cattle 
 and sheep do pretty well upon 
 the grass, which is long and dead. 
 Fatting oxen we feed with the 
 greens of Ruta Baga, with some 
 corn (Indian, mind) tossed 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 ! 
 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 re 
 mark 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 Connec 
 ticut, and sold to me here at 2 dol 
 lars each in July, just after shearing. 
 I sell them now alive at 3 dollars 
 
CHAP. L] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 47 
 
 ^ I ** ^ 
 
 1817. 
 
 Dec. 15. each from the grass. Killed and 
 sent to market, they leave me the 
 loose fat for candles, and fetch about 
 3 dollars and a quarter besides. 
 
 16. Sharp North West wind. This is 
 the cold American Wind. " A North 
 Wester" means all that can be ima 
 gined of clear in summer and cold in 
 winter. \ remember hearing from 
 that venerable and excellent man, 
 Mr. BARON MASERES, a very ele 
 gant eulogium on the Summer North 
 Wester in England. This is the 
 only public servant that I ever heard 
 of, who refused a proffered augmen 
 tation of salary ! 
 
 17. A hardish frost. 
 
 18. Open weather again. 
 
 19. Fine mild day; but began freezing 
 at night-fall. 
 
 20. Hard frost. 
 
 21. Very sharp indeed. Thermometer 
 down to 10 degrees ; that is to 
 say, 22 degrees colder than 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 
 
48 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART. I. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Dec. 22. 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 1 ever saw. 
 The reason is, that the tallow is- 
 
 fresh, and that it is unmixed with 
 grease, which, and staleness, is the 
 cause, 1 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 pro 
 duce ! Is it not a 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 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 49 
 
 1817. 
 
 Dec. 25. this, that the hellish system of fund 
 ing and of Seat-selling can be up 
 held. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 29. Same weather. 
 
 30. Rain all day. 
 
 31. Mild and clear. JVb frost. 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 1. Same weather. 
 
 2. Same weather. 
 
 3. Heavy rain. 
 
 4. A frost that makes us jump and 
 skip about like larks. Very sea 
 sonable for a sluggish fellow. Pre 
 pared for winter. Patched up a 
 boarded building, which was for 
 merly a coach-house ; but, which is 
 not so necessary to me, in that ca 
 pacity, as in that of a fowl-house. 
 The neighbours tell me, that the 
 poultry will roost out on the trees 
 
 PART I. E 
 
50 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 4. 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 univer 
 sally the case. However, I mean 
 to give the poor things a choice. I 
 
 -1 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. J have secured 
 all against dogs, and have made lad 
 ders 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 un 
 der, 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. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 51 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. (5. Such another frost at night, but a 
 
 thaw in the middle of the day. 
 
 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 even 
 ings, 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. 
 
 10i SnoW, but sloppy. I am now at 
 New York on my way to Pennsylva 
 nia. N.B. This journey into Penn 
 sylvania had, for its principal ob 
 ject, an appeal to the justice of the 
 Legislature of that State for redress 
 fbr great loss and injury sustained 
 by me, nearly twenty years ago, in 
 consequence of the tyranny of one 
 E 2 
 
52 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 10. 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, 1 shall do little more than 
 give an account of the weather; re- 
 $erving for the SECOND PART, ac 
 counts 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 Phila 
 delphia. Broke down on the road 
 in New Jersey. 
 
 13. Very hard frost still. Found the 
 Delaware, which divides New Jer 
 sey from Pennsylvania, frozen over. 
 Good roads now. Arrive at Phila 
 delphia in the evening. 
 
 14. Same weather. 
 
 15. Same weather. The question ea 
 gerly put to me by every one in 
 Philadelphia, is : " Don't you think 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 53 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 15. the city greatly improved?" They 
 seem to me to confound augmenta 
 tion 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 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 oc 
 cupied. How small! [t is always 
 thus : the words large and small are 
 carried about with us in our minds, 
 and we forget real dimensions. 
 The idea, suck 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 six 
 teen years, the trees, the hedges, 
 even the parks and woods, seemed 
 
54 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 16. so small! It made me laugh to hear 
 little gutters, that I could jump 
 over, called Rivers ! .The Thames 
 was but a " Creek /" But, when, 
 in about a month after my arrival in 
 London, I went to Farn/tam, the 
 :,-f; place of my birth, what was my 
 
 surprise ! Every thing was become 
 so pitifully small! I had to cross, 
 in my post-chaise, the long and 
 jdreary 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 iq the neighbourhood. It 
 served as the superlative degree of 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. $5 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 15. height. " As high as Crooksbury 
 Hiir 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 Bruns 
 wick, 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 y where I had begun my garden 
 ing 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 pigeons that 
 I used to feed out of my hands, the 
 last kind words and tears of my 
 gentle and tender-hearted and affec 
 tionate mother! I hastened back 
 into the room. If I had looked 
 a moment longer, I should have 
 dropped. When I came to reflect, 
 
56 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART L 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 15. what a change! 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, be 
 haviour. I felt proud. The distinc 
 tions 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 re 
 solved never to bend before them. 
 
 16. 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. 
 
 18.^ Moderate frost. Fine clear sky. 
 19. (The Philadelphians are cleanly, a 
 20. ( quality which they owe chiefly to 
 21 .} the Quakers. But, after being long 
 and recently familiar with the towns 
 
CHAP I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 57 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 21. 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 blindfold to Guildford, I 
 wonder what his sensations would 
 be, when Jie came to have the use 
 of his sight ! Every thing near Guild- 
 ford seems to have received an in 
 fluence from the town. Hedges, 
 gates, stiles, gardens, houses inside 
 and out, and the dresses of the 
 people. The market day at Guild- 
 ford is a perfect show 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 
 
38 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 21. finds more dirt upon the necks and 
 faces of one family 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 Penn 
 sylvania is with the legislature. It 
 is sitting at Uarrisburgh. 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 in-land 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 39 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 23. 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, lodg 
 ing, 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 
 
60 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART J. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 28. 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 McAllisters 
 tavern, situated at the foot of the 
 first ridge of mountains ; or rather, 
 
 ten 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'AL- 
 LISTER just 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. MCALLISTER 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 61 
 
 1818. 
 
 Jan. 30. so many millions of sparkling stones, 
 when the sun shines, which is all the 
 day. 
 
 , 31. Same weather. Two farmers of 
 
 Lycoming county had heard that 
 William Cobbett was here. They 
 modestly introduced themselves. 
 What a contrast with the " yeo 
 manry cavalry?" 
 
 Feb. 1. 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, 1 enlist 
 ed as a soldier. I always keep the 
 day in recollection. 
 
 5. Having been to Harrisburgh on the 
 second, returned to McAllister's 
 to-day in a sleigh. The River be 
 gins 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 
 
621 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 7. four hundred hills, ploughed Be 
 tween, 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 ther- 
 ***' mometer is down to 10 degrees be 
 low nought. 
 
 10. A little milder; but very cold in 
 deed. 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 Lan 
 caster, in order to see more of this 
 pretty town, A very fine Tavern 
 (Slaymaker's) ; room to myself; ex 
 cellent accommodations. Warm 
 fires. Good and clean beds. Civil 
 but not servile^ landlord. The eat 
 ing still more overdone than at Har 
 risburgh. Never saw such profu 
 sion. 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. 
 
' CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 63 
 
 1818. 
 Feb. 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. 
 
 16. 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 out 
 skirts of cities and towns in Eng 
 land; 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 wide, with two floors, 
 and raised roads to go into them, 
 so that the waggons go into the 
 
64 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. first floor up-stairs. Below are sta 
 bles, 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 coun 
 try. The^y consist, almost without 
 exception, of a considerably large 
 and a very neat house, with sash win 
 dows, 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 di 
 mensions, is, as nearly as possi 
 ble, 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 na 
 ture, for, it is the large house which 
 has grown out of the small one. The 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 65 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. father, or grandfather, while lie was 
 toiling for his children, lived in the 
 small house, constructed chiefly by 
 himself, and consisting of rude ma 
 terials. 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 demolish 
 ed, few sons in America have the 
 folly or want of feeling to commit 
 such acts of filial ingratitude, and 
 of real self-abasement. For, what 
 inheritance so valuable and so ho 
 nourable 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 ta 
 ken place. What a contrast with 
 the farrn-houses in England ! There 
 the little farm-houses are falling in 
 to ruins, or, are actually become 
 cattle-sheds, or, at best, cottages, 
 
 PART I, F 
 
66 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. as they are called, to contain a mi 
 serable 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 pre 
 vent 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 popula 
 tion of England ; and, when it suits 
 the purposes of the tyrants, they 
 boast of this fact, as they are 
 pleased to call it, as a proof of 
 the fostering nature of their go 
 vernment; 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 6? 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. can be nothing in the shape of proof; 
 for no actual enumeration 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 counties, 
 have got a vast increase of miserable 
 beings huddled together. But, look 
 at Devonshire, Somersetshire, Dor 
 setshire, 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, 
 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 suf 
 ficient to contain a thousand or two 
 or three thousand of people conve 
 niently, now stands surrounded by 
 a score or half a score of miserable 
 F 2 
 
68 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. 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 Eng 
 land. 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 coun 
 ties, and also in Hampshire, where 
 doivns, or open lands, prevail. He 
 will there see, not only that those 
 hills were formerly cultivated ; but, 
 that banks, from distance to dis 
 tance, were made by the spade, in 
 order 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 69 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 16. 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-gardens, have, in like de 
 gree, increased in number and ex 
 tent. And, in just the same pro 
 portion 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 ruthless 
 hand of the Aristocracy, who, making 
 their approaches by slow degrees, 
 have, at last, got into their grasp the 
 substance of the whole country. 
 
 17. Frost, not very hard. Went back 
 to Harrisburgh. 
 
 18. Same weather. Very fine. Warm 
 in the middle of the day. 
 
 19. Same weather. Quitted Harris- 
 burg, 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 
 understand my affair ; and when they 
 do understand it, I am not all afraid 
 
70' CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 19. 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 Philadel 
 phia along with my friend HULME. 
 They are roasting an ox on the 
 Delaware. The fooleries of Eng 
 land are copied here, and every 
 where in this country, with wonder 
 ful avidity; and, 1 wish I could 
 say, that some of the vices of our 
 " higher orders" as they have the 
 impudence to call themselves, were 
 not also imitated. However, 1 look 
 principally at the mass of farmers ; 
 the sensible and happy farmers of 
 America. 
 
 21. Thaw and Rain. The severe wea 
 ther 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 mut 
 ton as I ever saw. How mistaken 
 Mr. Birkbeck is about American 
 mutton! 
 
 24. Same weather. Very fair days now. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 71 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 25. Went to Bustleton with my old 
 friend, Mr. John Morgan. 
 
 26. Returned to Philadelphia. Roads 
 very flirty 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 pre 
 sent 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 inhabitants. But, Corpora 
 tions are seldom the wisest of law- 
 
72 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 28. 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 them 
 selves. Where, then, are they to 
 fling these effects of superabun 
 dance ? 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 ajfine 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 in 
 dignation, and makes it more and 
 more the object of my life to assist 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 73 
 
 1818. 
 
 Feb. 28. in the destruction of the diabolical 
 usurpation, which has trampled on 
 king as well as people. 
 
 March 1. 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 consider 
 able 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 Phila 
 delphia, 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 to his house. 
 His name is VERE. I knew him the 
 moment I saw him ; and, I won 
 dered 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. I offered him 
 
CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1 . 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 idle- 
 " ness? 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 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 HUIXMAN, 
 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 75 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 1. VERB. Tell Mr. FREEMANTLE, that 
 the Spaniels are beautiful, that Wood 
 cocks breed here in abundance ; 
 and tell him, above all, that I fre 
 quently think of him as a pattern 
 of industry in business, of skill and 
 perseverance and good humour as a 
 sportsman, and of honesty and kind 
 ness as a neighbour. Indeed, I have 
 pleasure in thinking of all my Botley 
 neighbours, except the Parson, who 
 for their sakes, 1 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. 
 
T6 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 9. Same weather. Took leave, I fear 
 for ever, of niy 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 cheer 
 fulness. These people are never 
 giggling and never in low-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 and upright men ; and, 1 
 
CHAP. ^.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 77 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 10, verily believe, that all those charges 
 of hypocrisy and craft, that we hear 
 against Quakers, arise from a feel 
 ing of envy ; envy inspired by see 
 ing them possessed of such abun 
 dance of all those things, which are 
 the fair fruits of care, industry,. eco 
 nomy, 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 beforehand, 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, 
 " up-start, hectoring, insolent, and 
 " cruel Yeomanry Cavalry in Eng- 
 " land, who, while they grind their 
 " labourers into the revolt of star- 
 " vation, gallantly sally forth with 
 " their sabres, to chop them down 
 " at the command of a Secretary of 
 " State; and, who, the -next mo- 
 " ment, creep and fawn like spaniels 
 
78 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 10. " before their BoroughmongerLand- 
 " lords !" At Mr. TOWNSHEND'S I 
 saw a man, in his service, lately from 
 YORKSHIRE, but an Irishman by 
 birth. He 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. 
 11. Same open weather. I am now 
 at Trenton, in New Jersey, waiting 
 for something to carry me on to 
 wards New York. Yesterday, Mr. 
 TOWNSHEND sent me on, under an 
 escort of Quakers, to Mr. ANTHONY 
 TAYLOR'S. He was formerly a mer 
 chant in Philadelphia, and now lives 
 in his very pretty country-house on 
 a very beautiful farm. He has some 
 as fine and fat oxen as we generally 
 see at Smithfield market in London. 
 I think they will weigh sixty score 
 each. Fine farm yard. Everything 
 belonging to ihefarm good, but, what 
 a neglectful gardener ! Saw some 
 white thorns here (brought from Eng- 
 
CHAP. L] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 79 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 11. land, 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 an 
 other PART, I shall give full informa 
 tion upon this head. Here my escort 
 quitted me ; but, luckily, Mr. NEW- 
 BOLD, who lives about ten miles 
 nearer Trenton than Mr. Taylor 
 does, brought me on to his house. 
 He is a much better gardener, or, 
 rather, to speak the truth, has suc 
 ceeded 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 me 
 rino ewes, besides young lambs, in 
 the finest, most spacious, best con 
 trived, and most substantially built 
 sheds I ever saw. The barn sur 
 passed all that I had seen before. 
 His house (large, commodious, and 
 handsome) stands about two hun 
 dred yards from the turnpike road, 
 leading from Philadelphia to New 
 York, looks on and over the Dela- 
 
80 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March II. ware 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 ob 
 serve, that I saw in Mr. TAYLOR'S 
 service, another man, recently ar 
 rived 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 ; 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 81 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 1.1. 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 Har- 
 risburgh, Mr. SLAYMAKER at Lan 
 caster, and Mrs. M* ALLISTER, were 
 low enough in all conscience; but, 
 really, this charge of Mrs. ANDER 
 SON 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 
 1 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 of tobacco in their mouths, or 
 segars stuck between their lips, and 
 with dirty hands and faces. Mr. 
 Birk beck's com plaint, on this score, 
 is perfectly just. 
 
 Brunswick, New Jersey. Here I 
 am, after a ride of about 30 miles, 
 
 PART. I. G 
 
S2 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART 1. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 11. 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 Jive 
 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 
 
 t, 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 mis 
 fortune of America ! As we were 
 
 .1 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 soyoung, 
 " considering w r hat you have gone 
 " through in the world;" though 
 I cannot imagine how he had learnt 
 who I was. " I'll tell you," said J, 
 " how I have contrived the thing. 
 " I rise early, go to bed early, eat 
 "sparingly, never drink anything 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 83 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 11. " 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. 
 12. Warm and fair. Like an English 
 first of May in point of warmth. I 
 got to ElizabethTown Point through 
 beds of mud. Twenty minutes too 
 late for the steam-boat. Have to 
 wait here at the tavern till to-mor 
 row. 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 Jive sons, the eldest 
 19 years of age, and several daugh 
 ters. Connecticut is thickly settled. 
 He has not the means to buy farms 
 for the sons there. He, therefore, 
 
 L goes and gets cheap land in Penn 
 
 sylvania; his sons will assist him to 
 clear it; and, thus, they will have a 
 farm each. To a man in such cir 
 cumstances, and " born with an 
 " axe in one hand, and a gun in the 
 " other," the western countries are 
 G 2 
 
84 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 12. desirable ; but not to English far 
 mers, who have great skill in fine 
 cultivation, and who can purchase 
 near New York or Philadelphia. 
 This YANKEY (the inhabitants of 
 Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massa 
 chusetts and New Hampshire, only, 
 are called Yankeys) 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 cab 
 bage seed and some cauliflower 
 seed in my pocket, which had been 
 sent me from London, in a letter, 
 and which had reached me at Har- 
 risburgh. I could not help giving 
 him a little of each. 
 
 13. Same weather. A fine open day. 
 Rather a cold May-day for Eng 
 land. 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 85 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 13. 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 neighbour 
 hood. This is the effect of my warm 
 foicl-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 
 
86 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART L 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 15. fowls, I find, have wanted no feed 
 ing except during the snow, or, in 
 the very, very cold days, they did 
 not come out of their house all the 
 day. A certain proof that they like 
 the warmth. 
 
 16. Little frost in the morning. Verjr 
 fine day. 
 
 17. Precisely same weather. 
 
 18. 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 England as here, though 
 not so absolutely necessary. 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 writ 
 ing without fire, and in my waist 
 coat 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 8? 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 23. 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. 
 
88 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 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 days sharp in De 
 cember, we have had many very fine 
 and without Jire in March. In 
 England winter really begins in No 
 vember, 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, tra- 
 
 , veiling. 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 so dry. This 
 is the great friend of man and beast. 
 Last summer Iivrote home for nails 
 to nail my shoes for winter. I could 
 find none here. What a foolish 
 people, not to have shoe-nails ! I 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 89 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 31. forgot, that it was likely, that the 
 absence of shoe-nails argued an ab 
 sence of the want of them. The 
 nails are not come ; and I have not 
 wanted tbem. 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 
 j ov is singularly favourable to all ani 
 mals. 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 gar 
 den, 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 abun 
 dance (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 ano 
 ther part of the work. What can 
 any body want more than these 
 things in the garden way ? However 
 
90 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 March 31. it would be very easy to add to the 
 catalogue. Apples, quinces, cher 
 ries, 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, 1 my 
 self decidedly preferring the Ame 
 rican winter. 
 April 1. 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 go- 
 
GHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 91 
 
 1818. 
 
 April 7. ing on ; but I must reserve an ac 
 count of them for another Part of 
 my work. 
 
 8. Warm and fair. 
 
 9. Rain and rather cold. 
 
 10. Fair but cold. It rained but yes 
 terday, and we are to-day, feeding 
 sheep and lambs with grain of corn, 
 and with oats, upon the ground in 
 the orchard. 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 Eng 
 land. We are planting out selected 
 roots for seed. 
 
 1@. 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 scites for 
 the habitations of their future young 
 ones. 
 
92 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I. 
 
 1818. 
 
 April 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 de 
 bauchees hurry home with aching 
 joints. Some hail to day. 
 
 20. Same weather. Just the weather 
 to give drunkards the " blue de 
 vils." 
 
 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. Dan 
 delions blow. 
 
 23. Sharp white frost in morning. Warm 
 and fine day. 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 9? 
 
 1818. 
 
 April 24. Warm night, warm and fair day. 
 And here I close my Journal ; for, I 
 am in haste to get my manuscript 
 away ; and there now wants only 
 ten days to complete the year. I re 
 sume, now, the Numbering of my Pa 
 ragraphs, 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 for sheep 
 and for rny 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 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 burst." 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 complexity! The oaks, which, in 
 England, have now their sap in fulljlow, are 
 
94 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART I, 
 
 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 1 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 at 
 tempt to make every farmer a gardener. Fn 
 the meat way, we have beef, mutton, bacon, 
 fowls, a calf to kill in a fortnight's time, suck 
 ing 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 quar 
 ters 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 always fatting. Young ducks are just 
 coming out to meet the green p 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 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 95 
 
 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 wanting 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 r 
 no honey-suckle, none of that endless variety of 
 beauties that decorate the hedges and the mea 
 dows in England. No daisies, no primroses, 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 
 
96 CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. [PART 1. 
 
 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 repre 
 sent, in much about the same degree that the 
 black-bird here speaks the voice of its name 
 sake 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 inte 
 rest 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, 1 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. 1 said, in the 
 second Register I sent home, that this climate 
 was not so good as that of England. Experi 
 ence, 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 Borough mongers should cite 
 this as a new and most flagrant instance of incon 
 sistency. England is ray country, and to Eng- 
 
CHAP. I.] CLIMATE, SEASONS, &C. 97 
 
 land I shall return. I like it best, and shall 
 always like it best; but, then, in the word Eng 
 land, 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 parti 
 cular of the expense 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 re 
 solved, if I had life, to return, and I expressed 
 that resolution before 1 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 1 speak of this country at all, to tell them the 
 real truth ; and this, as far as I have gone, I 
 have now done. 
 
 :- 3 . :: 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 ' 
 PART I. H 
 
98 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 CHAP. 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 1 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 culti 
 vation of the root and green crops, as cattle, 
 sheep, and hog food. This design was sug 
 gested by the reading of the following passage 
 in Mr. CHANCELLOR 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 99 
 
 " 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 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 
 " Saga, may be usefully applied at this time, 
 " and so, I think, might Parsnips and Carrots. 
 " But, as few of us are in the habit of cultiva- 
 " ting these plants to the extent which is neces- 
 " sary for the support of a large flock, we 
 " must seek resources more within our reach" 
 And then the Chancellor proceeds to recom 
 mend the leaving the second growth of clover 
 uncut, in order to produce early shoots from 
 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 Penn- 
 
 H2 
 
100 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 sylvania, 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 Bot- 
 ley, 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 cat 
 tle, 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 ex 
 hausted piece of land, and who found it co* 
 vered 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAG A CULTURE. 101 
 
 States is in want of food a.tthis /pinching sea 
 son of the year, the fetrlt "is, neitlier in the soil 
 nor in the climate. ".>7% fl : / V'K '/*'/: /< 
 
 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 experi 
 ments as to the MANGEL WURZEL, or SCARCITY 
 ROOT ; though, as will be seen, I deem that root, 
 except in particular cases, of very inferior im 
 portance. The parsnip, the carrot, the cab 
 bage, are all excellent in their kind and in their 
 uses; but, as to these, I have not yet made, 
 upon a scale sufficiently large here, such ex 
 periments as would warrant me in speaking with 
 any degree of confidence. Of these, and other 
 matters, I propose to treat in a future PART, 
 which [ 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 bluish green, like the green 
 
102 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 of pt$% when a* nearly their full size, or like 
 the green of a young and thrifty early York 
 shire ^4b3ba"ge. ; ; Hence vit is, I suppose, that 
 some persons have called it the Cabbage- 
 turnip. But the characteristics the most de 
 cidedly distinctive are these : that the outside 
 of the bulb of the Ruta Ruga 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 man 
 ner. 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 Berk 
 shire, who had his seed from the same parcel 
 that mine was taken, 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 103 
 
 England, select the plants to be saved for seed. 
 We examine well 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 (27th March), taking all our English pre 
 cautions. It is probable, that they would do 
 very well, if taken out of a heap to be trans 
 planted, 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 or trouble ; especially when we con 
 sider, 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 
 
104 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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. 
 
 35. That all these precautions of selecting 
 the plants and transplanting them are neces 
 sary, I know by experience. I, on one occa 
 sion, had sown all my own seed, and the plants 
 had been carried off by t\\efly, of which I shall 
 have to speak presently. 1 sent to a person 
 who had raised some seed, which 1 afterwards 
 found to have come from turnips, left promiscu 
 ous to go to seed in a part of a field where they 
 had been sown. The consequence was, that a 
 good third part of mj' 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. 
 
CHAP. 11.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 105 
 
 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 oat, 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 per 
 fectly dead, in order that the seed may imbibe 
 its full nourishment, and corne to complete per 
 fection ; otherwise the seed will wither, much 
 of it will not grow at all, and that which does 
 grow will produce plants inferior to those pro 
 ceeding 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 30th of 
 July. In every case the seed took well and the 
 
106 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 26tfA 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 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 10? 
 
 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 wire-worm ; 
 the grubs above-ground and under-ground ; 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 object of enquiries, experiments, analyses, 
 innumerable. Premium upon premium 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 discover the 
 longitude ; for about fifty thousand farmers 
 
108 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 neighbours, and I augured good, from their 
 not appearing to understand what f 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 satis 
 faction, I found that my alarms had been ground 
 less. This circumstance, besides others that 1 
 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 wonderful that the culture of this root 
 has not, long ago, become general in this 
 country. 
 
 40. The time of sowing, then, may be, as cir 
 cumstances may require, from thettth of June 
 to about the 10th of July, as the 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 
 
CHAP, ii.] RUTA'BAGA CULTURE. 109 
 
 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 15th and 
 26th of June had all these appearances and 
 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 10th 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 sow- 
 ing 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 
 
110 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART L 
 
 the 9th of July, I would by no means recom 
 mend any farmer, who can sow sooner, to de 
 fer the business to that time ; for, I am of opi 
 nion 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 19th. 
 
 44. The crops, in small plots, which I sowed 
 after the 9th of July to the 30th 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 ripq; 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 clay, would not do well 
 certainly ; but I have never seen any of either 
 in America. The soil that I cultivate is poor, 
 almost proverbially ; but, what it really is, i& 
 this : it is a light loam, approaching towards 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. Ill 
 
 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 ad 
 vised me to let the cattle and sheep take it for 
 their trouble of walking over the ground, which 
 advice 1 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. 1 ploughed them very 
 shallow, 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 fiy!\ 
 have pledged my life for a crop of Ruta Baga. 
 
112 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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, be 
 sides, 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 
 instantly 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 scratching 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 113 
 
 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 trans 
 planting. 
 
 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. 
 
 51. 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. 1 had but a very small quantity of 
 seed as we}l as of manure. This seed I had, 
 however, brought from home, where it was 
 raised by a neighbour, on whom 1 could rely, 
 and 1 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 be- 
 
 PART I. I 
 
114 Rim BAGA CULTURE. [PART 1. 
 
 lieve 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 draw 
 ing 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 re 
 member, that a very small cavity is sufficient 
 to keep 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 whole 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 weeks ; and, at the end of that time, 
 we had scarcely a turnip in the beds, where the 
 
CHAP. IL] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 115 
 
 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 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. However, 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 
 
116 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 sowing will, however, pro 
 bably, be, in most cases, preferred; and, this 
 mode of sowing is pretty well understood from 
 general experience. What is required here, is, 
 that the ground be well ploughed, finely har 
 rowed, 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-cul 
 ture, I shall compare the two methods of sow 
 ing, 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. 
 
 5(v In relating what 1 did in this respect, 1 
 shall take it for granted, that the reader will 
 understand me as describing what 1 think ought 
 to be done. 
 
 57. When my ridges were laid up, and my 
 
CHAP. If.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 11? 
 
 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 could 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 ma 
 nure so scanty. 
 
 58. The plants, however, made their appear, 
 ance with great regularity ; no fly came to 
 annoy them. The moment they were 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 sum 
 mer before, and, probably, for many summers, 
 they now came forth to demand their share of 
 
118 HUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 that nourishment, produced by the fermenta 
 tion, the dews, and particularly the sun, 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 fur 
 row 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 be- 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 119 
 
 tween 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 what 
 ever soil or climate applied. 
 
 61 . 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 unnecessary. But, why have the ridges so 
 very wide? This question was not new to me, 
 who had to answer it a thousand times in Eng 
 land. It is because you cannot plough deep and 
 clean in a narrower space than four feet ; and, 
 it is the deep and 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 
 
120 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 of any fine large turnip will extend more than 
 six feet from the bulb of the plant. The inter 
 vals 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 inter 
 vals be too wide, if the plants occupy the in 
 terval? 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- 
 powerful sun, instantly perish. Then we re 
 peated the former operation with the one-horse 
 plough. After this nothing was done but to 
 pijll 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA ^AGA CULTURE. 
 
 this process any thing more difficult, more 
 troublesome, more expensive, than in the pro 
 cess 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 thou 
 sand 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 tne ground be at all foul, he is obliged 
 to go in again 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. 
 
 Transplanting. 
 
 65. This is a third mode of cultivating the 
 RUTA BAGA ; and, in certain cases, far prefer 
 able to either of the other two. My large crops 
 at Botley were from roots transplanted. I re 
 sorted 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 
 he obtained in sufficient number, just for a few 
 
122 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 
 instructions possibly can. 
 
 67. It was an accident that led me to the 
 practice. In the summer of 1812, 1 had a piece 
 of Ruta Saga 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 
 20th 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, therefore, 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 123 
 
 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 trans 
 planted two days later than those which had 
 been transplanted in the rows throughout the 
 piece. The cause of this remarkable difference 
 1, 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 par 
 ticularly 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 published 
 not a bad book on agriculture. It is not bad, 
 because it contains many authentic accounts of 
 experiments made by himself; though [ never 
 can think of his book without thinking, at the 
 same time, of the gross and scandalous plagia 
 risms, which he has committed upon TULL. 
 Without mentioning particulars, the " Honour 
 able 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, I hope, 
 
124 'RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 suc 
 ceeding 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 had not been 
 ploughed when the other ground was, exhaled 
 not an ounce! When I read this in Mr. CUR- 
 WEN'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 re 
 cently 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 J read Mr. CURWEN, and 
 I never knew the cause till 1 read the real Father 
 of English Husbandry. 
 ' 70. From this digression I return to the his- 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 
 
 lory, 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, 
 therefore, I prepared a field of five acres, and 
 another of twelve. I made ridges, in the man 
 ner described, for sowing; and, on the 7th of 
 June in the first field, and on the 20th of July 
 in the second field, I planted my plants. I as 
 certained 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 i.n agricultural prize 
 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 afoot 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 13th of July, 
 which, probably, weighed fifty tons an acre. 
 I delayed to have them weighed till a fire hap 
 pened in some of my farm buildings, which pro 
 duced a further delay, and so the thing was not 
 done at all ; but, 1 weighed one waggon load, 
 the turnips of which averaged eleven pounds 
 
126 RtTTA BAGA CULTURE. [>ART t 
 
 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. 
 
 71. I will now give a full account of my trans 
 planting at Hyde Park. In a part of the ground, 
 which was put into ridges and sown, I scat 
 tered the seed along Very thinly upon the top of 
 the ridge. But, however thinly you may at 
 tempt 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 tojlx 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. 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 
 
 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. T6 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 21st to the 28th of August, one Sunday and 
 one day of no planting, having intervened. 
 Every body knows, that this is the very hottest 
 season of the year; and, as it happened, this 
 was, last summer, the very driest also. The 
 weather had been hot and dry from the 10th of 
 August; and so it continued to the 12th of Sep 
 tember. Any gentleman who has kept a 
 journal of last year, upon Long Island, will 
 
RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 no more appearance of a crop 
 upon the ground than there was of a crop on 
 the Turnpike-road. But, on the 2nd of Sep 
 tember, as J have it in my memorandum book, 
 the plants began to show life ; and, before the 
 rain came, on the 12th, 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 in 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) 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 129 
 
 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, 1 did not cover them any 
 more. There they lay abandoned till the 24th 
 of July, on which day 1 began planting Cabbages 
 in my field. I then thought, that I would try 
 the hardiness 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. Bot, 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 
 
 PART I. K 
 
130 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 : my 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 or more. When we have our 
 plants and hands all ready, the ploughman 
 begins, and turns in the ridges ; that is to say, 
 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 pro 
 cess the reader needs only to be told, that, in 
 1816, 1 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. 1 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? 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAG A CULTURE. 
 
 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 keep 
 ing 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 gar 
 dens, and gentlemen s gardens in England, who 
 knew how to plant a cabbage-plant, so I am led 
 to suppose, that very few, comparatively speak 
 ing, 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 cab 
 bage-plants. Never was there an error more 
 general or more complete in all its parts. In 
 stead of rainy weather being the best time, it is 
 
 K2 
 
RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 the very worst time, for this business of trans 
 plantation, 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 expe 
 rience 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 ^one, in such cases, I watered 
 the plants heavily ; but, being called away for 
 some purpose, I left one row unwatered, and it 
 happened, that it so continued without my ob 
 serving 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, intending 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 row 
 were not only larger, but earlier in loaving, than 
 any of the rest of the plot. 
 
 80. 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 re 
 tains its form, aad presents, on every side, an 
 impenetrable substance to the fibres. In short, 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 133 
 
 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, tne 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 Eng 
 land and America, how many thousands and 
 thousands are ivaiting for a shower 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 fermen 
 tations, 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 en 
 joying a similar benefit ? The reason is, that 
 they will produce something without it ; and 
 
134 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 26th of that month, a very kind neigh 
 bour 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 appeared very fine in 
 deed. In the seed bed, from which he had 
 taken his plants, there remained about a hun 
 dred; 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. My beans came off 
 in August, and then the ground was well dug 
 between the rows of cabbages. In September, 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 135 
 
 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 dor 
 mant state. There had been no renewed fermen 
 tations, 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 transplant plants 
 of any sort, I will now speak of the mere act of 
 planting, 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 at 
 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. 
 
136 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I, 
 
 84. The general, and almost universal fault, 
 is, that the planter, when he has ^nt 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 thejibres 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 whimsi 
 cal 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 
 whatever 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. IS? 
 
 1 could not be much with my work-people, I 
 used, in 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 well fixed; but, if the pulll 
 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, 1 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, rag 
 ged, 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 clean 
 liness 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 r to be the helpmates, and not a burden, 
 of their future husbands. 
 
138 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 extremely 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, espe 
 cially 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 farm 
 ing affairs, better than they do. It was this 
 difficulty that made me resort to the employ 
 ment of young women in the most important 
 part of my farming, the providing of immense 
 quantities of cattle-food. But, J do not find 
 this difficulty here, where no workmen are ob- 
 
,-. 
 
 CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 139 
 
 stinate, 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 preferable 
 to either the ridge-sowing method, or the broad 
 cast 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 pa 
 ragraph 40 and paragraph 47, must be prepared 
 early in June, at the latest ; but, in the trans 
 planting method, this work 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 trans 
 planted. 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 
 
140 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 trans- 
 . planting 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 ploughing between the ridges. This is a 
 great consideration, and should always be 
 thought of, when we are talking of the trouble 
 of transplanting. 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 make their appear 
 ance. 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 irregula 
 rities. The seed may not come up, in some 
 places. The plants may, in some places, be 
 destroyed in their infant state. They may, now 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 141 
 
 and then, be cut off with the hoe. The best 
 plants may sometimes be cut up, and the infe 
 rior plants left to grow. And, in the broad 
 cast method, the irregularity and uncertainty 
 must be obvious to every one. None of these 
 injurious consequences can arise in the trans 
 planting 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 ; ju$t 
 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 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 vexations of the 
 Spring months, when bleatings everlastifg din 
 
142 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 the farmer almost out of his senses, and make 
 him ready to knock the brains out of the cla 
 morous 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 suc 
 cessive 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 turn 
 ing back for the sowing, as is directed in para 
 graph 50. Now, here are/owr ploughings. And 
 what is the cost of these ploughings ? My man, 
 a biack man, a native of this Island, ploughs 
 
 js pair of oxen and no driver an acre and 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 143 
 
 a half a day, and his oxen keep their flesh ex 
 tremely 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 plough! ngs, 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, fur 
 nish the moisture sufficient. I once sowed, on 
 ridges, with a BENNETT'S drill, and neither har 
 rowed nor rolled, nor used any means at all of 
 covering the seed ; and yet I had plenty of plants 
 and a very fine crop of turnips. I sowed a 
 piece of white turnips, broad-cast, at Hyde Park, 
 
144 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 movement 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 something 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 vege 
 tate, without coming up ; and then they die. This 
 is the case, in many instances, with more than 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 145 
 
 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 every 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 positiveness 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 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, 
 
 PART. I. L 
 
146 RUTA BAG A CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 ! And yet, people are flock 
 ing to the Western Countries in search of rick 
 land, while thousands of acres of such land as 
 1 occupy are lying waste in Long Island, within 
 three hours drive of the all-consuming and in 
 cessantly 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 transplantation, 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 observation 
 1 ought to have made before. 
 
 98. But, why should not the plants, in this 
 case, succeed some other good crop, as men 
 tioned before ? 1 sowed some early peas (brought 
 from England) on the 2nd of June. I harvested 
 them, quite ripe and hard, on the 31st 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 14? 
 
 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 1 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 com 
 forting 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 after 
 wards turned once or twice, in the usual manner 
 as practised in England. At Hyde Park I had 
 nothing butrakings up about the yard, barn, &c. 
 as described before. What I should do, and 
 what 1 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 
 
 L 2 
 
148 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 the land for 
 half a dollar. I made an experiment last sum 
 mer, 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 accept 
 ing. But, this experiment was upon a small 
 scale ; and, therefore, I will not now speak 
 positively on the subject. 
 
 1 00. I am now preparing to make a perfect 
 trial of these ashes. I have just ploughed up 
 a piece of ground, in whkh, a few years ago, 
 Indian Corn was planted, and produced, as I 
 am assured, only stalks, and those not more 
 thantwofeet 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 neigh 
 bours 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 two hundred 
 English cart-loads, each load holding about 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 149 
 
 forty bushels. J should not suppose, that the 
 burning cost me more than jive 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 1 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 
 unacquainted 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 1 already had the finest in Eng 
 land ; and 1 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 hun 
 dred and forty pounds. This breed has been 
 fashioned by Mr. WOODS of Woodmancut in 
 
150 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 Sussex, who lias 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 ac 
 count 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. Jt 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. 
 
 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. J have made ample ex 
 periments as to this matter ; and I will, as in 
 former cases, first relate what 1 did; and then 
 give my 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 know 
 ing, that, as to American frosts, English expe- 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 151 
 
 rience was only likely to mislead ; for, in Eng 
 land, 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 bot 
 tom ; 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 1 did try it upon too large a scale. 
 
 106. I began with the piece, the first men 
 tioned in paragraph 46 : a part of them were 
 taken up on the 13th 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 con 
 venient 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 cover 
 ing at top, in order to keep out wet. 
 
 107. Thus was a small part of the piece put 
 up. The 14th of December was a Sunday, a 
 
152 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 day that I can find no Gospel precept for de 
 voting 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, J borrowed hands from my neigh 
 bours, who are always ready to assist one an 
 other. 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 appear 
 ance of a hard frost at night. In order, there 
 fore, to expedite the work, I called in the aid 
 of those efficient fellow-labourers, a pair of 
 oxen, 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, 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 153 
 
 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 am 
 preparing to plant some of them for seed. I 
 am now writing on the Wth of April. I send off 
 these turnips to market every week. The tops 
 and tails and offal 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 para 
 graphs 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. 
 
 110. We were now got on to the 17th of 
 December ; and I had cabbages to put up. Sa 
 turday, Sunday, and Monday, the 21st and 
 22nd and 23rd, we had &very hard frost, as the 
 reader, if he live on this island, will well re 
 member. There came a thaw afterwards, and 
 the transplanted turnips were put up like the 
 
154 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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. 
 
 111. This loss arose wholly from my want 
 of sufficient experience. I was anxious to ne 
 glect no necessary precaution ; and I w r as 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 know 
 ledge of the time of the hard weather setting 
 in, I could obtain no knowledge, on which 1 
 could rely, the several accounts being so diffe 
 rent from each other. The general account 
 was, that there would be no very hard weather 
 till after Christmas. I shall know better an 
 other time ! MAJOR CARTWRIGHT says, in 
 speaking of the tricks of English Borough- 
 mongers, at the " Glorious Revolution," that 
 they will never be able to play the same tricks 
 again ; for that nations, like rational individuals, 
 are not deceived twice in the same way. 
 
 1 12. Thus have 1 spoken of the time and man- 
 ner of harvesting, as they took place with me. 
 And, surely, the expense is a mere trifle. Two 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 155 
 
 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 two 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 tur 
 nips completely rotten ; and these were amongst 
 the finest that I ever grew, many of them weigh 
 ing twelve pounds each. Besides, when taken 
 up in dry weather, before the freezings and 
 tha wings 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 
 
156 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 inconveniences and injuries would be avoided 
 by harvesting in a dry day in November, if such 
 a day should, by an accident, be found in Eng 
 land ; 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 dif 
 ficulty in the way of the harvesting of turnips 
 in proper time. I should certainly do it in No 
 vember; for, as we have seen, a little frost does 
 riot 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 
 useless arid inconvenient to take into barns, or 
 out-houses, a very large quantity at a time. 
 Besides, if left uncovered, the very hard frosts 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA .CULTURE. 
 
 will do them harm. To be sure, this is easily 
 prevented, 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 thereabouts, would be wholly 
 unnecessary, besides being troublesome from the 
 great space, which would thus be occupied. 
 
 H 4. 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 corner 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 ex 
 pressly, 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, J shall have 
 written on this subject in vain. 
 
158 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 26th 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 com 
 modity 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. 
 
 116. 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 seven 
 teen acres. I have no doubt 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 prodigious crop of 
 Ruta Baga. This is the case in all the pur 
 suits 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 dis 
 cover causes for his success, other than those 
 proceeding/row himself. But, as I used to tell 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 159 
 
 my neighbours at Botley, " You have had the 
 " same seasons that [ have had. Nothing is so 
 " impartial as weather." As long as this sort 
 of observation, or inquiry, proceeds from a 
 spirit of emulation, it may be treated with great 
 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, how 
 ever, 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 con 
 trary, the greatest satisfaction, at my success; 
 and not the least backwardness, but great for 
 wardness, 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- 
 
160 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 
 upright 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 with politics. The Board of 
 Agriculture, established by Pitt for the pur 
 pose f 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 ray part, have never had any com 
 munication 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 prin 
 ciples 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 161 
 
 Board has published, at the public expense, 
 under the name of Communications, I defy the 
 world to match it as a mass of illiterate, unin 
 telligible, 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 authenticated, and stated in a clear 
 manner. 
 
 118. ARTHUR YOUNG is blind, and never 
 attends the Board. 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 drearn 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 abili 
 ties. A parcel of court-sycophants are the Vice- 
 Presidents. Their committees and correspond 
 ents are a set of justices of the peace, nabobs 
 become country-gentlemen, and parsons of the 
 
 PART I. M 
 
162 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 High. 
 
 wavs." 
 
 120. Happily, politics, in this country, have 
 nothing to do with agriculture ; and here, there 
 fore, 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 improve the estates of the 
 oppressors of my country ; and the same con 
 sideration now restrains me from communi 
 cating 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 complaints, the nation would 
 now be really 'injured by the communications 
 of what, if it were in a healthy state, would do 
 it good, add to its strength, and to all its means 
 of exertion. 
 
CRAP. II.] RUTA BAG A CULTURE. 163 
 
 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 mentioned 
 Mr. CURWEN'S experiment before; or, rather 
 TULL'S ; for he it is, who made all the disco 
 veries 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 to 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 result of numerous experi 
 ments, 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 in 
 sist on it in an Indian corn country ? Who has 
 not seen fields of Indian corn looking, to-day, 
 
 M2 
 
164 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 yellow and sickly, and, in four days hence (the 
 weather being dry all the while), looking green 
 and flourishing ; and this wonderful effect pro 
 duced 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. CUR WEN tells us of a piece of cattle-cab 
 bage. 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 on the Monday, could scarcely believe 
 his eyes when he saw them on the next Satur 
 day, 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 purpose, 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 
 
 * Since the above paragraph was written, I have made * 
 single ox-yoke ; and, I find it answer excellently well. Now, 
 my work is much shortened j for, in forming ridges, two oxen 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAG A CULTURE. 165 
 
 enough, are not so steady as oxen, which are 
 more patient also, arid with which you may 
 send the plough-share down without any of the 
 
 are awkward. They occupy a wide space, and one of \hern 
 is obliged to walk 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 toek from TULL. 
 I showed it to my workman, 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 quarters 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 Wippauce, as it is 
 called in Hampshire. I am but a poor draftsman ; but, if the 
 printer can find any thing to make the representation with, 
 the following draft will clearly show what I have meant to de 
 scribe 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 ought 
 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. 
 
166 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 fretting and unequal pulling, or jerking, that 
 you have to encounter 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 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 wonderful 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 be 
 fore 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, a$ 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE, 167 
 
 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 broad 
 cast, 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 hand- 
 hoeings, they may keep down weeds to be sure, 
 and they raise a trifling portion of exhalation ; 
 but, it is trifling 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 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 
 
168 RUTA BAG A CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 [ 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 acquainted with by perceiving my 
 .Shepherd's dog eating in the field along with the 
 sheep. 1 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, mea 
 sure 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, ex 
 cept such as have been injured, as above-men 
 tioned, by the delay in the harvesting. These 
 damaged roots 1 apply in the following manner. 
 
 ISO. 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 169 
 
 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, 
 parsnip 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 no 
 thing 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) 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 
 wean 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 
 
170 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 are, indeed, not worth having. To have milk, 
 you must have cows, and cows are vast con 
 sumers ! To have cows, you must have female 
 labour, which, 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 lott 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 per 
 mitted to go dry, which never need be, and never 
 
CHAP. II.] RUT A BAGA CULTURE. 1?1 
 
 ought to be the case. 1 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 of the 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 coivs, [ will just ob 
 serve, that in the little publication of Mr. CRAMP, 
 mentioned above, as having been printed by the 
 Board of Agriculture, it was stated and the 
 proof given, that his single cow 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 my 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 hun 
 dred pounds of butter from the 28th of March 
 to the 27th of June. This is a finer country 
 for x cattle than England; and yet, what do 1 
 see! 
 
 133. This difficulty about feeding sow& with 
 
172 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 young pigs and weaning pigs, is one of the 
 greatest hindrances to improvement ; 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. Demand 
 ing but little space for its accommodation ; 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 pro 
 viding 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 re 
 garded as a turnip, as a common turnip, than 
 which nothing can be much less resembling it. 
 The common turnip is a very poor thing. The 
 poorest of all the roots of the bulb kind, cul- 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 
 
 tivated 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, sold 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. 
 
 135. 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. 
 
174 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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. 
 1 cut mine off, while the roots were in the 
 ground, and gave them to fatting cattle upon 
 g.rass land, alternately with Indian corn in the 
 ear ; 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 ofFfresh 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 white 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 valu 
 able indeed ; but the main cattle-crop is the 
 Ruta Baga. Even the white turnip, if well cul 
 tivated, may be of great use ; and, as it admits 
 of being sown later, it may often be very de 
 sirable 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAG A CULTURE. 175 
 
 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, par 
 snips, and Mangel Wurzel, and even finer cab 
 bages, 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, supposing 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 fod 
 der for my four working oxen and three cows, 
 and my sheep and hogs, of which I shall speak 
 presently. 
 
 140. 1 would have twelve acres of Ruta Baga, 
 three acres of early cabbages, an acre of Mangel 
 
176 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART 1. 
 
 Wurzel, an acre of carrots and parsnips, and 
 as many white turnips as would grow between 
 myrows of Indian corn after iny last ploughing 
 of that crop. 
 
 141. With these crops, which would occupy 
 thirty-two acres of ground, 1 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 we call it in 
 Hampshire, or, two hundred and forty pounds 
 each, and a hundred fat ewes. These, altoge 
 ther, 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 labour; for, as to taxes, the 
 amount is not worth naming, especially after 
 the sublime spectacle of 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. Inow, 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 177 
 
 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's 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, 
 
 PART I. N 
 
178 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 re 
 quire 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 60 days of their 
 age, I have rather over-rated their consump 
 tion. 
 
 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 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 179 
 
 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, 1 make ample pro 
 vision. 
 
 147. 1 should want then, to raise five hun 
 dred bushels of Ruta Baga upon each of my 
 twelve acres ; and why should I not do it, see 
 ing 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, there 
 fore, that, with a culture as good as that of In 
 dian corn, any man may, on this island (where 
 corn will grow) have 500 bushels to the acre. 
 
 148. 1 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 12 acres of orchard and the hay- 
 ground, aided by my three acres of early caj> 
 bages, which are now fit to begin cutting, or, ra 
 ther, 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 atleast. 
 I have shown before how advantageously Ruta 
 Baga transplanted would follow these cabbages, 
 all through the months of July and August. But 
 
180 KUTA BAGA .CULTURE. [PART 1. 
 
 what a crop vf Buck-wheat would follow such of 
 the cabbages as came off in July ! 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 cabbages 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 pars 
 nips till Spring, and mix the feeding with car 
 rots 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 occa 
 sional purposes. ^ t 
 
 J 50. Thus all my hay and oats, and wheat and 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 181 
 
 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 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. 
 
 15 J. 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, 
 
182 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 1 ! I should be very sorry to be 
 thought the author of any such advice. 1 have 
 no sort of objection 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 be 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 1 should keep any beyond what 
 might be useful for my house. Hogs are the 
 most profitable stock, if you have a large quan 
 tity 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 propor 
 tion 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 Wur- 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 183 
 
 zel 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, and the harvesting, and pre 
 serving, and application of which, are so easy. 
 
 153. The farm I suppose to be in fair condi 
 tion 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 hun 
 dred 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 
 
184 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 of wheat will, at any time, tame it pretty suffi 
 ciently. 
 
 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 pro 
 duce as much as two other acres, the one acre 
 is preferable, because it requires only half as 
 much fencing 1 and little more than half as much 
 harvesting, as two acres. There is many a ten 
 acres of land near London, that produce more 
 than any common farm of two hundred acres. 
 My garden of three quarters of an acre, pro 
 duced 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 vyould give 
 me even horse-dung at the stable- door, four 
 miles from my land, I would not accept of it. 
 
CHAP. II.] RUTA BAGA CULTURE. 185 
 
 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 em 
 ployed 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 sub 
 ject of Ruta Baga, 1 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 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 clear 
 ness as I am able. In the mean while, 1 shall 
 be glad to afford any opportunity, to any per 
 sons who may think it worth while to come Jo 
 Hyde Park, of seeing how 1 proceed. I have * 
 just now (17th April) planted out my Ruta 
 Baga, Cabbages, Mangel Wurzel, Onions, Par 
 snips, &c. for seed. I shall begin my earth- 
 
 PART I. o 
 
186 RUTA BAGA CULTURE. [PART I. 
 
 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 1 am able, in return 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 Saga, 
 
 AND OF PART I. 
 
 Printed by J. M'Creerjr, 
 Black-Horse-Court, London. 
 
A 
 
 YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 Treating of the Face of the Country, the Climate, the Soil, 
 the Products the Mode of Cultivating the Land, the Prices 
 of Land, of Labour, of Food, of Raiment ; of the Expenses 
 of Hou>ekeeping, and of the usual mariner of Living ; of 
 the Manner*, Customs, and Character of the People ; and 
 of the Government, Laws, and Religion. 
 
 IN THREE PARTS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Containing, III. Experiments as to Cabbages. IV. Earth - 
 burning. V. Transplanting Indian Corn. VI. Swedish 
 Turnips. VII. Potatoes. VIII. Cows, Sheep, Hogs, and 
 Poultry. IX. Prices of Land, Labour, Working Cattle, 
 Husbandry Implements. X. Expenses of Housekeeping. 
 XL Manners, Customs, and Character of the People. 
 XII. Rural Sports. XIII. Paupers and Beggars. 
 XIV. Government, Laws, and Religion. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY AND JONES, 
 PATEKNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1819. 
 
CC: 
 
 [CntereB at g>tattonet# igwlL] 
 
 I MA1^;FIW vfT 
 
 Jolin M'Crcery, Printer, 
 Black- Horse-Court, London. 
 
CONTENTS OF PART IT. 
 
 Page 
 Dedication . . . ; . 193 
 
 Preface . ;.^'rM^U^m-*V 195 
 
 CHAP. III. Experiments as to Cabbages ..... 203 
 
 IV. Earth-burning 230 
 
 V. Transplanting Indian Corn 242 
 
 VI. Swedish Turnips 252 
 
 VII. Potatoes 276 
 
 VIII. Cows, Sheep, Hogs, and Poultry . . . 303 
 
 IX. Prices of Land, Labour, Working Cattle, 
 
 Husbandry Implements 318 
 
 CHAP. X. Expences of Housekeeping ...... 329 
 
 XI. Manners, Customs, and Character of the 
 
 Pe ple 344 
 
 CHAP. XII. Rural Sports 364 
 
 XIII. Paupers and Beggars 377 
 
 XIV. Government, Laws, and Religion . . . 388 
 
.V.i 
 
 
 
 ... ^ ,IV;..-^ 
 
 _....-. -.' : \/ . . -.5 JIV --* 
 
 . 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 .^ - , il JfX .1/UiO 
 
 /. j- '. ! 
 
 4 . " 
 
;.-_(. 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 :> <>T " ' - Xtfttf'A -. 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. RICHARD HINXMAN 
 
 OF CHILLING IN HAMPSHIRE. 
 
 North Hempstead, Long Island, 
 1 5th Nov. 1818. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 v 
 
 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 natural 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 
 
192 DEDICATION. 
 
 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 suffer 
 ings, on the part of the people, be either paid 
 off or diminished. But, 1 trust, that deliver 
 ance 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 
 1 last had the pleasure to see you and our ex 
 cellent friend Goldsmith, you will rejoice to 
 find, that, throughout the whole of this exten 
 sive 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 certainty, that no prying, 
 greedy Parson will come to eat up a part of 
 the young ones. How long shall we English 
 men suffer our cow-stalls, our styes, our folds 
 and our hen-roosts to be the prey of this prowl 
 ing 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 
 
DEDICATION. J&3 
 
 them my mind has been brought back to the 
 feelings of those days. The certainty, 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 
 
 nix ,/ 
 
 TO THS 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 ^lism J 'ill. guru -.' 
 
 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 pur 
 chaser, be bound up in one volume, or remain 
 in two volumes, I have thought it best to re 
 sume the numbering at the point where I 
 stopped at the close of the First Part. The 
 last paragraph of that Part was 156: I, there 
 fore, now begin with 157. For the same reason 
 I have, in the Second Part, resumed the paging 
 at the point where 1 stopped in the First Part. 
 I left off at page 186; and, I begin with 187. 
 I have, in like manner, resumed the chaptering: 
 so that, when the two volumes are put toge 
 ther, 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. 
 
196 PREFACE TO THE SECOND PART. 
 
 158. Paragraph 1. (Part I.) contains my rea 
 sons for numbering the paragraphs, but, be 
 sides 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 COMMEN 
 TARIES had been numbered, how much valu 
 able 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 am quite 
 careless about the paging: that is to say, so 
 that the whole be comprized within the 134 
 pages, it is of no consequence whether the mat 
 ter 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 suf 
 ficient to convince the reader that I have not, 
 in this case, been actuated by a love of sin- 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND PART. 197 
 
 gularity. We live to learn, and ^ to make im 
 provements, and every improvement must, at 
 first, be a singularity. 
 
 1.59. 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 ii*. 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 ad 
 vantage of numbering the paragraphs has ap 
 peared; with the help of this Index the reader 
 will, I am in hopes, be enabled to overcome, with 
 out any very great trouble, the inconveniences 
 naturally arising from a want of a perfectly good 
 arrangement of the subjects of the work. 
 
 160. As the First Part closes with a pro 
 mise to communicate the result of my experi 
 ments of this present year, I begin the Second 
 
198 PREFACE TO THE SECOND PART. 
 
 Part with a fulfilment of that promise, parti 
 cularly with regard to the procuring of manure 
 by the burning of earth into ashes. 
 
 161. I then proceed with the other matters 
 named in the title ; and the Third Part I shall 
 make to consist of art account of the Western 
 
 ' Countries, furnished in the Notes of Mr. HULME, 
 together with a view of the advantages and 
 disadvantages of preferring, 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 Borough mo ngering op 
 pression and insolence. 
 
 162. Multifariousness is a great fault in a 
 written work of any kind. I feel the consci 
 ousness 6{ 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 to 
 gether 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 hereaf 
 ter. The first is that of Fencing, a subject 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND PART. 199 
 
 which presses itself upon the attention of the 
 American Farmer, but from which he turns 
 with feelings like those, with which a losing 
 tradesman 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 Gardening. This I propose to treat of 
 in a small distinct volume, under some appro 
 priate title ; and, in this volume, to give alpha 
 betically, a description of all the plants, culti 
 vated 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 instructions 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 ex- 
 pe&ce, I shall endeavour to give plain direc 
 tions for the making and managing of a hot- 
 
200 PREFACE TO THE SECOND PAR*. 
 
 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 of July. This is so very simple a mat 
 ter; it 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 com 
 plete success. 
 
 163. Let not my countrymen, who may hap 
 pen 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. 1 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 re 
 strained Mr. CURWEN from even naming TULL, 
 wheu he gave one of TULL'S experiments to the 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND PART. 201 
 
 world as a discovery of his own. Unable to 
 screw himself up to commit a murder, he con 
 tented himself with a robbery ; an instance, he 
 may, indeed, say, of singular moderation and 
 self-denial; especially when we consider of 
 what an assembly he has> with little intermis 
 sion, been an " Honourable Member" for the 
 last thirty years of his life. 
 
 WM. COBBETT. 
 
 North Hempstead, Long Island, 
 15th November, 1818, 
 

 
YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 . 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 EXPERIMENTS, IN 1818, 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 de 
 vote without neglecting matters which I deem 
 of greater importance. I was, indeed, obliged 
 to leave the greater part of rny out-door's busi 
 ness 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 Wurzle 1 did not attempt. I contented 
 myself with a crop of Cabbages and of Ruta 
 Baga and with experiments as to Earth-burn 
 ing and Transplanting Indian Corn. The sum 
 mer, and the fall also, have been remarkably dry 
 in Long Island, much more dry than is usual. 
 
204 CABBAGES. [PART Jl. 
 
 The grass has been very short indeed. A sort 
 of Grass-hopper, or cricket, has eaten up a con 
 siderable part of the grass and of all vege 
 tables, the leaves of which have come since the 
 month of June. I am glad, that this has been 
 the case ; for I now know what a farmer may do 
 ,in the worst of years ; and, when 1 consider 
 what the summer has been, I look at my Cab 
 bages and Ruta Baga with surprize as well as 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 CABBAGES* 
 
 'T 1 / 
 
 166. I had some hogs to keep, and, as my 
 Swedish Turnips (Ruta Baga) would be gone 
 by July, or before, 1 wished them to be suc 
 ceeded by cabbages. I made a hot-bed on the 
 20th 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 1 3th 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, 
 
CHAP, III.] CABBAGES. 205 
 
 grew pretty well. From this bed, they would, 
 if I had had time, been transplanted into ano 
 ther, 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 12th of May before they at 
 tained this height, and 1 then began planting 
 them out in a piece of ground, pretty good, 
 and deeply ploughed by oxen. My cauli 
 flowers, of which there were about three thou 
 sand, 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 steins 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 cal 
 dron, 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. , 
 
 J68. The Cabbages, sown in the bed, con 
 sisted partly of Early Yorks, the seed of 
 which had been sent me along with the Cauli- 
 
206 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 flower seed, from England, and had reached 
 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 produce loaved cab 
 bages 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 perfection later and 
 later. He said, that he never should save cab 
 bage seed himself; but, that it was such 
 chance-work 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 Pennsylvania 
 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 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 207 
 
 so much less time by the plants. The plants 
 very soon shewed, by their appearance, what 
 would be the result ; for, on the 2nd 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 appearance 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 while 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 devasta 
 tions 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 Sep 
 tember 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 
 
 R 
 
208 CABBAGES* [PART II. 
 
 drought of the season. Nevertheless, L have 
 now about two acres of cabbages of the follow 
 ing 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, arid 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 1. Paragraph 136. 
 Then, about mid-December, 1 shall feed with 
 the second class, the t)rum-heads and other 
 late Cabbages. Then, those which are not 
 used before the hard frosts set in, 1 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. Taking 
 them up and replanting them closely in a slop 
 ing 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, 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 209 
 
 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. 1 
 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 thick 
 ly, with leaves raked up in the woods, fling 
 ing 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 pre 
 vented 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 
 
 R 2 
 
210 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 with earth, and those which lay with heads up 
 wards and their roots in the ground were rot 
 ting. But, to this land I could have gone at 
 any time, and have brought away, if the quan 
 tity had been large, a waggon load in ten mi 
 nutes. If they had been covered with snoiv (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 crossways, 
 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 cover 
 ing. And, thus, all the materials for the work 
 are upon the spot. 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 211 
 
 172. In quitting this matter, I may observe, 
 that, to cover cabbages thus, in gardens as well 
 as fields, would, in many cases, 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 cab 
 bage 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 
 wither in this state, or they soon putrefy even 
 here. By adopting the mode of preserving, 
 which I have described above, all these incon 
 veniences 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 tivo men in 
 
S12 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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 afterwards. 
 So far from taking any particular pains about 
 these Savoys, I did not see them planted, arid 
 1 never saw them for more than two months 
 after they were planted. The ground for them 
 was prepared thus : the ground, in each inter 
 val 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 ex 
 cellent. 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 
 
CHAP. III.J CABBAGES. 
 
 the seed did not cost me a quarter of a dollar. 
 Suppose, 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 cab 
 bages. As far as a thing may depend on 
 chance, two chances are better than one. In 
 the summer and fall, cabbages get ripe, and, as 
 1 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 Fe 
 bruary, 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 sort of cabbage young 
 and green. The first he will find sweet, the 
 latter Miter. It is the same with Turnips, and 
 with all roots. There are some apples, wholly 
 uneatable 'till kept a while, 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. 
 
214 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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 gene 
 ral conduct, we should give cabbage of the best 
 quality to cattle, and keep that of the worst 
 quality for ourselves. In London, where taxa 
 tion 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 clogs 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. 
 
. III.] CABBAGES. 
 
 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, ra 
 ther, the givers, of our healthful sports, is ten 
 thousand times more strong, than that of ani 
 mals 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 
 pounds; and these may be fifteen inches asun 
 der 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 cab 
 bages early, the early ones remain so little a 
 
216 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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 cab 
 bages, this year, have been followed by a 
 Second crop of the same, and now (mid-No 
 vember) they are hard and white and we are 
 giving them to the animals. 
 
 . 178. There is a convenience attending cab 
 bages, which 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 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 217 
 
 Wurzel root) if quite ripe, is richer than a white 
 loaved cabbage ; but, it is not more easily pre 
 served, and will not produce a larger crop. 
 Cattle will eat the leaves, but hogs will not, 
 when they can get the leaves of cabbages. Ne 
 vertheless, 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. 
 
 180. As to the time of sowing cabbages, the 
 first sowing should be in a hot-bed, so as to 
 have the 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, in 
 deed, 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 
 long, and Jive wide. They will stand thus to 
 get to a tolerable size without injuring each 
 
218 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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. 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 re 
 moved the second time, it is found to be fur 
 nished 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 look- 
 
GHAP. HI.] CABBAGES. 
 
 ed 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 1 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 attend 
 ing 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 transplanted Swedish Turnips ; and, 
 therefore, as to these matters, the reader has 
 
220 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 seen enough in Part I. There is one observa 
 tion 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 outside 
 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. 
 
 184. The distances at which cabbages ought 
 to stand in the rows must depend on the sorts. 
 The following is nearly about the mark. Early 
 Salisbury afoot; Early York fifteen inches; 
 Early Batter sea 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 be said ; for> we are not here, as 
 in England, confined within four or five de 
 grees of latitude. Here some of us are living 
 in fine, warm weather, while others of us are 
 living amidst snows. It will be better, there- 
 
CHAP. III.] - CABBAGES. . 221 
 
 fore, 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 sow 
 ing 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 1 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 gar- 
 " den 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 gene 
 ration tread in the steps of their fathers, whom 
 they loved, honoured and obeyed. They, take 
 all upon trust. Gladly save themselves the 
 
222 CABBAGES. * [PART II. 
 
 trouble of thinking about things of not imme 
 diate 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 im 
 moralities, 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 digression to say, that I cannot be ex 
 pected 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 Fre- 
 derickton in the Province of New Brunswick, 
 which is in latitude about forty-eight ; and at 
 Wilmington in Delaware State, which is in lati 
 tude about thirly-ni ne. 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 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 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 223 
 
 Island summers and falls, and three English, 
 in every year. , 
 
 187. According to these various circum 
 stances men must form their judgment; but, it 
 may be of some use to state the length of' lime, 
 which is required to bring each sort of cabbage 
 to perfection. The following sorts are, it ap 
 pears to me, all that can, in any case, be neces 
 sary. 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 per 
 fection. The plants are supposed to be of 
 a good size when put out, to have stood suffi 
 ciently 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 . . * , 
 
 Thousand-headed 
 
 Large hollow . . . )^Five months. 
 
 Ox cabbage . . , v 
 
224 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 188. 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 cul 
 tivated, because they are as good as the white 
 of the same size, and because it may be conve 
 nient, 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 itsjirst 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, 1 
 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 cul- 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 225 
 
 tivation of them, in America, will be a work of 
 lime. A proposition 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 novel 
 ties, this proposition of mine has books to con 
 tend against. I read, last fall, in an Ameri 
 can Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 
 " greatly enlarged and improved," some obser 
 vations on the culture of cabbages as cattle- 
 food, which were well calculated to deter a 
 reader of that book from attempting the cul 
 ture. I do not recollect the words; but, the 
 substance was, that this plant could not be cul 
 tivated to advantage by the farmer IN AMERICA. 
 This was the more provoking to me, as I had, 
 
 s 2 
 
226 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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, unim 
 proved, 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, four 
 teen 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 sum 
 mer, 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 far 
 mers 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 al here. What! will not this immense 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 227 
 
 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 proposition 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,- 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 in falds? Is there common 
 sense in supposing, that they will not grow in 
 a piece of land, because it is not called a gar 
 den? 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 
 
228 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 horses; and they never complain 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 apply 
 ing 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 Buckwheat; and, if late cab 
 bages, 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 cab 
 bages 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 recommending 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 
 
CHAP. III.] CABBAGES. 229 
 
 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 &fair trial. 
 
 193. I shall speak again of the use of cab 
 bages, when I come to speak of Hogs and 
 Cows. 
 
 ;,V 
 
230 CABBAGES. (FART ll. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 
 
 EARTH-BURNING, 1818. 
 
 194. IN paragraphs 99, 100, and 101, I spoke 
 of a mode of procuring 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 ex 
 ceeded even thirty tons to the acre. But, upon 
 the part where the ashes were spread, the Buck 
 wheat 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. 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 231 
 
 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 ap 
 plication of them is less expensive. But, in 
 taking to a farm unprovided with the two 
 former ; or under circumstances which make it 
 profitable to add to the land under cultivation, 
 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 over one half of 
 the piece, while he put soaper's ashes over the 
 other part of the piece. I saw the turnips in 
 
232 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 October ; and there was no visible difference in 
 the two parts, whether as to the vigourousness 
 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 ascer 
 tain with precision; but, I shall suppose the 
 quantity to have been very large indeed in pro 
 portion to the surface of the land. Let it be 
 four times the quantity of the soaper's ashes. 
 StilJ, 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. 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 233 
 
 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 three inches, 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 y 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 open 
 ings whence the smoke issues. In the course of 
 a day or two the heap grows large. The burn 
 ing keeps working on the inside, though there 
 never appears any blaze. Thus the field is 
 studded with heaps. After the first fire is got 
 to be of considerable bulk, no straw is wanted 
 
234 CABBAGES. [PART II, 
 
 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, arid 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 a week 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 Ro 
 mans, and it is strongly recommended in the 
 First Georgic of Virgil, in, as Mr. TOLL 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 cen 
 tury, by the French and English, It is im 
 plicitly followed in France to this day ; as it 
 is by the great mass of common farmers in 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 235 
 
 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 philo 
 sophy 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 commerce. 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 Fri 
 day. 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 
 
236 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 complied, and had the pleasure to see, that 
 every pig and lamb did well. He was sur 
 prized when 1 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 be 
 wilder 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. 1 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 detecting 
 the cheatery of priests, the room which it oc 
 cupies 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 per 
 fectly well. Cutting across would make the 
 sward into turfs. 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 237 
 
 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. 1 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. J then put on 
 the driest of the clods that T have ploughed up 
 round about so as to cover all the fire over. 
 The earth thus put in 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 ex 
 tinguished. 
 
238 CABBAGES. [PART II. 
 
 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 com 
 pletely burnt. ^ 
 
 207. Now, this may be done on the skirt of 
 any w6od, 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 ; 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 239 
 
 and, soot is 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 wide, because then a 
 man can fling the earth easily over every part. 
 The mode they pursue in England, where 
 there is no wood, 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 
 takeu, 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. 
 
240 CABBAGES, [PART II. 
 
 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 my own neighbourhood, in 
 Hampshire, peat is burnt in large quantities 
 for the ashes, which are sold, L believe, as high 
 as sixpence sterling a bushel, and carried to a dis 
 tance 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 
 sown 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 fe 
 quite sufficient for the experiment. 
 
CHAP. IV.] CABBAGES. 24i 
 
 212. With respect to earth-ashes, burnt in 
 kilns, keeping in the smoke, 1 have proved their 
 great good effect; but, still, I would recom 
 mend trying them upon a small scale. How 
 ever, 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? 
 
 T 2 
 
242 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. [PART II. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. 
 
 213. I WAS always of opinion, that this 
 would be the best mode, under certain circum 
 stances, 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, mark 
 ing, and manuring. The consequence is, that, 
 as there are so many other things to do, some 
 thing 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 15th 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. 1 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* 
 
AP. V.] TRANSPLANTING INIHAN CORN. 243 
 
 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. JNot 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 sfc much in ridi 
 cule of the project, that lie 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 quan 
 tity of earth-ashes in the deep furrow between 
 the ridges, then turned back the earth over 
 them, a*id then planted the Corn on the ridge, 
 at a foot apart. We pulled up the plants with 
 out 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. first of July in ,the 
 evening ; and, not willing to be laughed at too 
 much, I thought I would pause two or threg 
 
244 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. [PART II; 
 
 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, \ 
 suffered the everlasting gloomy peal that my 
 people rang in my ears to extort from me my 
 ' consent to the pulling up of tlie rest of the 
 plants and throwing them aivay ; 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 in 
 tended to give them to the oxen, from the cha 
 ritable desire, I suppose, of annihilating this 
 proof of his master's folly. He would have 
 pulled up the two rows which we had trans 
 planted ; but I would not consent to that ; for, 
 I was resolved, that they should have a weeks 
 trial. At the end of the week I went out and 
 looked at them. I slipped out at a time when 
 no one was 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 
 
CHAP. V.] TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. 245 
 
 garden to see whether any of the plants, which 
 lay in heaps, were yet alive. 
 
 2J7. 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 glori 
 ously 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. 1 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^ 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 excel 
 lent farmer on excellent land. " Then," said I, 
 " if you are afraid to back your opinion, I do 
 " not mind your laugh." 
 
 218. On the 27th 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 bro 
 ther'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 Cora : " What do you think of my 
 
246 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. [PA RT II. 
 
 " 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 10th of September, Mr. JUDGE 
 LAWRENCE, in company with a young gentle 
 man, 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 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 sur 
 rounding 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 
 
CHAP. V.] TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. 247 
 
 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 ano 
 ther 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 in 
 stance, their conduct did seem worthy of ano 
 ther 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 
 
248 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. [PART IT. 
 
 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-hoing; 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 good deep ploughing, or 
 two at most, leaves the ground as clean as a 
 garden ; that is to s.ay, as a garden ought to be. 
 The sowing of the seed in beds is one day's 
 work (for ten acres) for one man. Hoing the 
 young plants, another day. Transplantiiig,/owr 
 dollars an acre to the very outside. " But 
 " where are the hands to come from to do the 
 " transplanting?" One would think, that, to 
 
CHAP. V.} TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. 
 
 hear this question so often repeated, the people 
 in America were like the Rhodian Militia, 
 described in the beautiful poem of Dryden, 
 61 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- 
 hoing of it, sometimes twice ; the patching 
 after the grubs ; the sucJcering 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 him 
 self; for, observe, nothing is so easily done. 
 There is no fear of dearth. The plants, in soft 
 ground, might almost be poked down like jso 
 many sticks. I did not try it ; but, I am pretty 
 sure, that the roots might be cut all off close, 
 so that the stump were left entire. For, mind, 
 a jfibre, of a stout thing, never grows again 
 
250 TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. [PART II. 
 
 after removal. New ones must come out of 
 netv 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 
 
CHAP. V.] TRANSPLANTING INDIAN CORN. 251 
 
 have put the plants in stale hard ground: that 
 is not my plan. Then they have put them into 
 ground where prosperous neighbours 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 them 
 selves ; 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 
 transplaut such things as Indian Corn ? 
 
252 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART IT. 
 
 . 
 
 ' - >.H ', 
 
 - * "* " 
 
 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 , 
 
 SWEDISH TURNIPS. 
 
 225. UPON this subject 1 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 impro 
 per 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 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 253 
 
 seed being so nearly of the colour of the earth. 
 To guard against this evil, I this year adopted 
 a method which succeeded perfectly. 1 wetted 
 the seed with water a little, I then put some 
 whitening to it, and by rubbing them well toge 
 ther, 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 tur 
 nips 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, 
 therefore, 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. 
 
254 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART -II. 
 
 229. My own crop of Swedish Turnips this 
 year is far inferior to that of last in every re 
 spect. The season has been singularly unfa 
 vourable to all green and root crops. The 
 grass has been barer than it was, I believe, 
 ever known to be ; and, of course, other vege 
 tables 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 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 255 
 
 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 neigh 
 bours have tried the culture, and have far sur 
 passed me in it this year. Their land is better 
 than mine, and they have had no Borough-vil 
 lains and Bank-villains to fight against. Since 
 my Turnips were sown, I have written great 
 part of a Grammar and have sent twenty Re 
 gisters 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 jive on visits. Now, 
 whatever may have been the quality of the writ 
 ings ; 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 slight 
 est degree, is injurious to the mind; whether it 
 
 u 
 
''* **-" *- 
 256 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II> 
 
 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 ill- 
 England. The subject was of great import 
 ance, and the treating it involved much of that 
 sort of reasoning which is the most difficult of 
 execution. That Letter, consisting of thirty- 
 two full pages of print, \ wrote in one day, and 
 that, too, on the llth of July, the hottest day 
 in the year. But, I never could have 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 excel 
 lent effects of sobriety. It is not drunkenness 
 that I cry out against: that is beastly, and be 
 neath 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 per- 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 257 
 
 son 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 remained so firmly at 
 tached to me, and in whose feelings and views, 
 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 [ said before, some of my neigh 
 bours have made the experiment with great 
 success. I mentioned Mr. Dayrea's crop be 
 fore, 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 trans 
 planted some in the driest and hottest weather ; 
 and they were exceedingly fine, notwithstanding 
 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 and a half 
 upon ridges thirty inches apart. They were 
 
 u 2 
 
258 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [p ART II. 
 
 very fine; and, in September, their leaves met 
 across the intervals. On the 21st 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 ob 
 served, 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 work 
 man made such clamorous remonstrances, that, 
 after doing a little piece, Mr. Byrd desisted. 
 These were reasons wholly insufficient to sa 
 tisfy me ; and at the latter, the remonstrances of 
 a workman, I should have ridiculed, without a 
 grain of mercy ; only 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 23rd of 
 this month (November) ; and there I heard two 
 things from him which I communicate with 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 259 
 
 '-'? \'\j..S. 
 
 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 loo 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 
 an account of its being a complete confirmation 
 of a great principle of TULL applied to land in 
 this climate, but on account also of the candour 
 of Mr. BYRD, who, when he had seen the re 
 sult, 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 
 
260 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 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 injuri 
 ous ! Why should it not be as beneficial to 
 Corn as tp Turnips and Cabbages ? 
 
 236. Mr. BYRD transplanted with his super 
 abundant plants, about two acres and a half. 
 These he had not taken up on the 23rd of No 
 vember. 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 ac 
 count of the result of his labours. 
 
 237. This year has shown me, that America 
 is not wholly exempt from that mortal enemy 
 of turnips, ihejly, which mawled some of mine, 
 and which carried off a whole piece for Mr. 
 JUDGE LAWRENCE at Bay-side. Mr. BYRD says, 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 261 
 
 that he thinks, that to soak the seed \\\ fish-oil 
 is of use as a protection. It is very easy 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 ap 
 pearance : the caterpillar; which came about 
 the tenth of October. These eat the lea vest; 
 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 at 
 tacked 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 turnips, and, like the spawn of real 
 Borough mongers, 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 fur 
 row from the rows of turnips, as far as the cater 
 pillars 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 
 
262 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 England could treat the Borough-villains 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, how 
 ever, 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 the 21s/ of September 
 with nearly so much fury as they attacked the 
 rest of the field! 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 her$ 
 add a few remarks on the subject of preserving 
 the roots. In paragraph 106, I described the 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 263 
 
 manner in which 1 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 pyra- 
 midical 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, 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 will be safe with 
 every root that 1 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 per 
 dition, 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. Other 
 wise, 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 
 
264 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 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 Southward, 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 'till 
 June or July. In April (for Long Island); 
 that is to say, when the roots begin to shoot 
 out greens, or, as they will be, yell&ws, when 
 hidden from the light. Let rne stop here a 
 moment, to make a remark which this circum 
 stance 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 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 2t>5 
 
 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 i&ndi especially children. "Well," 
 said JAMES, " now you tell me something: what 
 " is it that makes the grass green." His Lord 
 ship told him it was the sun* " Why," said 
 JAMES, pulling up some grass, " you see it is 
 " white down here" " Aye," replied my Lord, 
 " but that is because the sun cannot get at it" 
 " flow get at 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 sub- 
 " ject of dispute for all the philosophers." Jf 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 re 
 spect which I bear towards him, and of the 
 
266 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 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," 1 shall be able to 
 tell him what it is that makes darkness preserve 
 turnips; and, in the meanwhile, lam quite con. 
 tent 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 barns 
 
 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 degene 
 rated ; 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 
 
fcHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 207 
 
 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 eare of what I had 
 growing, being sure of the real sort from Eng 
 land. However, Mr. BYRD'S were from his own 
 seed, 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 may 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 compared with 
 the value of the object. At any rate, by saving 
 some seed, a man has something to sow ; arid 
 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. 
 
268 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 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 Years 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-Jive rods, that 
 had not been ploughed for nearly thirty years. 
 I ploughed the ground deep, and spread on it 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 269 
 
 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 surface 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 
 very 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 19th of July, 
 when the first sowing 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 remaining 
 rows, early in the morning. The weather was 
 now very dry, and the turnips sown on the 19th 
 
270 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 of July were just coming up. On the 10th of 
 August I transplanted the two other rows at 
 mid-day, and, in consequence of such dry wea 
 ther, 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. 
 
 252. On the 10th 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 cultiva 
 tion for which, Sir, I feel very much indebted 
 to you. This crop, as you will perceive, wants 
 but two bushels and a fraction of jive hundred 
 bushels to the acre ; and I verily believe, that, 
 on this mode of cultivation, an acre of land, 
 which will bring ahundred 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 
 
CHAP. VI.] S.WEDISH TURNIPS. 271 
 
 saw ; so that 1 had no opportunity of trying the 
 use of 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, 1 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, 9th Dec. 1818. 
 
 BEAR SIR, 
 
 259. Your letter has given me very great 
 pleasure. You have really tried the thing: 
 
 x 
 
272 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II. 
 
 you have given it a fair trial. Mr. TULL, wheti 
 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 in 
 teresting your account is. It is 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; 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 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 2?3 
 
 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. 1 
 dare say it will be ready in three weeks. 
 
 263. I conclude this chapter by observing, 
 that a boroughmonger hireling, who was actu 
 ally 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 York, the acknowledgment of the 
 facts relating to which transaction, I saw in the 
 father's own hand-writing; this hireling, when 
 
 he heard of my arrival on Long Island, called 
 it 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, 1 do possess 
 arrows ; 1 make them felt too at a great dis 
 tance, and, J am not certain, that my arrows 
 
 x 2 
 
274 SWEDISH TURNIPS. [PART II, 
 
 are not destined to be the only means of de 
 stroying the Trojan Boroughmongers. 
 
 204. Having introduced a Judge here by 
 name, it may not be amiss to say, for the in 
 formation 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 ex 
 cellent characters and understanding. They re 
 ceive a mere acknowledgment for their services; 
 and they are, in all respects, liberal gentlemen. 
 Those with whom I have the honour to be ac 
 quainted have fine and most beautiful estates ; 
 and 1 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, 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 cele 
 brated Dr. MITCHELL and Mr. CLINTON, the 
 
CHAP. VI.] SWEDISH TURNIPS. 275 
 
 Governor of this state ; but, they made him stay 
 and dine. Here was he, a boy, with his rough, 
 shooting dress on, dining with Judges, Sheriffs, 
 and Generals, and with the Chief Magistrate of 
 a Commonwealth more extensive, more popu 
 lous, and forty times as rich as Scotland ; a 
 Chief Magistrate of very great talents, but in 
 whom empty pride forms no ingredient. Big 
 wigs and long robes and supercilious airs, are 
 necessary only when the object is to deceive 
 and overawe the people. Til engage that to 
 supply Judge Laurence's house that one week 
 required a greater sacrifice of animal life thaa 
 merciful Gibbs's kitchen demands in a year: 
 but, then, our hearty and liberal neighbour 
 never deals in human sacrifices. 
 
276 POTATOES. [PART n, 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 POTATOES. 
 
 ^. :r v -nvr 3r> j^;^:x?/H " 
 
 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 pro 
 per &s food for man, I will, out of respect for 
 public opinion, here state my reasons for think 
 ing that the Potatoe is a root, worse than use 
 less. 
 
 266. When I published some articles upon 
 this subject, in England, 1 was attacked by the 
 Irish writers with as much fury as the New 
 foundlanders 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 at 
 tack 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, 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 
 
 not that 1 was a. fool: that might have Tbeen 
 rational; but, when 1 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 
 d\\ nameless, however; and, with nameless ad 
 versaries I do not like to join battle. Of one 
 thing J am very glad ; and that is, that the 
 Irish do not like to live upon what their accom 
 plished 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 in 
 variably prefer to their "favourite root," not 
 only fowls, gees^, ducks and turkeys, but even 
 the flesh of oxen, pigs and sheep ! 
 
 268. In 1815, I wrote an article, which 1 
 will here insert, because it contains my opinions 
 upon this subject. And when I have done 
 
278 POTATOES. [PART u. 
 
 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. 
 
 T > afttfi -'a 
 
 'To THE EDITOR OF THE AGRICULTURAL MA 
 GAZINE. 
 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 ex- 
 " ample of argument for argument's sake ; as 
 " an agreeable jumble of truth and of mental 
 " rambling." 
 
 270. Now, Sir, 1 do assure you, that I never 
 was more serious in my life, than when I wrote 
 the essay, or, rather, casually made the ob- 
 servati3ns against the cultivation arid 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 argu- 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 279 
 
 ment 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 per 
 mitting 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 per 
 mitting 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 per 
 mitting 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 
 
280 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 pair of compasses out of a drmver r 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 reason and 
 to common sense, that one is naturally led to 
 wonder how it can have been tolerated by a 
 people, amongst whom astronomy, navigation, 
 and chemistry are understood. But, it is the 
 fashion to turn up the eyes, when Paradise 
 Lost is mentioned ; and, if you fail herein you 
 want taste; you want judgment 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 Bard," the case is still more pro 
 voking. 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 comparatively rude con 
 temporaries, had had their full swing ; after 
 hundreds of thousands of pounds had been ex 
 pended 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 
 
CHAP VII.] POTATOES. 281 
 
 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 WIL 
 LIAM, no matter from what motive, though I 
 never could see any harm in his motWe, 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 Shakes- 
 pear's, some plays, a prayer, and a love-letter. 
 The learned men of England, Ireland and Scot 
 land 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 ACTBD. 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 
 
282 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 critical classes of the nation most firmly believ 
 ed the writings to be Shakespear's ; and, 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 na 
 tural 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 fashkm 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 ran 
 cour as if he had written against the buying 
 and selling of seats in Parliament. The learned 
 men ; the sage critics ; the Shakespear-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 hi 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 283 
 
 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 mountebank 
 again. 
 
 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. If 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 his name to? 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 
 
284 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 reply io an attack on the morals and govern 
 ment and learning of the Americans, in the 
 " Quarterly Review," states, as matter of jus 
 tification, that the People of America sigh 
 with delight to see the plays of Shakespear, 
 whom they claim as their countryman; an ho 
 nour, 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 Tear- 
 sheet? 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-a-pie, a prince, who, 
 for justice sake, pursues his uncle and hi smo 
 ther, and who stabs an old gentleman 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-sayers, dream 
 ers ; in incidents out of nature, in scenes most 
 unnecessarily bloody. How they must be de* 
 lighted at the story of Lear putting the ques 
 tion to his daughters of which loved him most, 
 and then dividing his kingdom among them, 
 according to their professions of love; how de 
 lighted to see the fantastical disguise of Edgar, 
 the treading out Gloucester's eyes, and the trick 
 
CHAP. VII.1 POTATOES^ 285 
 
 . 
 
 by which it is pretended he was made to be 
 lieve, that he had actually fallen from the top 
 of the cliff! How they must be delighted to 
 seethe 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 ob 
 servations 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 ; arid, if I were to judge 
 from the high favour in which these two books 
 seem to stand, [ should conclude, that wild and 
 improbable fiction, bad principles of morality 
 and politicks, obscurity in meaning, bombas- 
 tical 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 pota- 
 
2&6 POTATOES. [PART ir. 
 
 toes. 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 an<J bran, suited 
 to the appetite and stomach of pigs, cows, and 
 sheep. But the parliament of the years of wis 
 dom wished to cram the whole down the throat 
 of man, together with the flour of other grain. 
 And what was to become of the pigs, cows, 
 and sheep ? Whence 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! 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 287 
 
 273. That period of wisdom was also the 
 period of the potatoe-mania. Sulk 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, at a birth 
 day dinner given to the foreign ambassadors, 
 used not a morsel of bread, but, instead of it, 
 little potatoe cakes, though he had, I dare say, 
 a plenty of lamb, poultry, pig, &c. All of 
 which had been fatted upon corn or meal, in 
 whole or in part. Yes y Sir, potatoes will do 
 very well along with plenty of animal food, 
 which has been fatted on something letter than 
 potatoes. But, when you and I talk of the use 
 of them, we must consider them in a very dif 
 ferent light. 
 
 274. The notion is, that potatoes are cheaper 
 than wheat^owr. This word cheap is not quite 
 expressive enough, but it will do for our pre? 
 sent 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. 
 
 : 
 
288 , POTATOES. [PART u. 
 
 275. The price of a bushel of fine flour, at 
 Botley, is, at this time, 10s. The weight is 
 56 Ibs. The price of a bushel of potatoes is 2s. 6d. 
 They are just now dug up, and are at the 
 cheapest. A bushel of potatoes which are mea 
 sured 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. arid 
 .sometimes for 2d. a pound ; that is to say, 
 sometimes for IL 7s. 6d. and sometimes for 
 2/. 15s. the five bushels. This is notorious. 
 Every reader knows it. And did you ever 
 hear of a bushel of flour selling for 2/. 15s. 
 Monstrous to think of! And yet the trades 
 man'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 pur 
 pose 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 I 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 289 
 
 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 ap 
 preciate 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 com 
 modities 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 1 
 them a little cheaper. John may have his Peck 
 or Gallon of flour: for that has a fixed and in- 
 discriminating 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 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 rauat . 
 have some potatoes too. On goes the pot, but 
 
 Y 2 
 
290 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 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 thou 
 sand times oftener than with a bread and meat 
 diet. Once a week baking and once a week 
 boiling, is as much as a farm house used to re 
 quire. 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 pota 
 toes, and, at a penny a fire, the amount is more 
 than would purchase four bushels of flour, 
 which 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, ex* 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 
 
 elusive of the etra 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 Sun 
 day, 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 de 
 ducted, it is 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 1 1 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 11 ounces of 
 
202 POTATOES. [PART i;. 
 
 \vater in every pound of potatoes. How far 
 earth and straw may tend to fatten or 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 1 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 G, and you will find him with 50 Ibs. of nu 
 tritious 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 boil 
 ings 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 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 293 
 
 caves. He may pie them in the garden, if he 
 has none; 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 :" ost. 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 ever 
 lasting 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 inac 
 tivity 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 pro 
 portion to its cost, 1 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, i it be more experj-, 
 sive than flour to the labourers the cowitry, 
 
POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 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 far 
 thing for bread, 1 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 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-4-tete broken up by the appli 
 cation 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, 1 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 evry, thing into consi- 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 295 
 
 deration, more than equal to about 30lbs. of 
 flour, you may be of opinion, that the dispro 
 portion 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 po 
 tatoes; as high, I believe, as 10 tons grow 
 upon an acre. 1 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 Jlour, 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 21. an acre ; 
 at present prices. The expense of reaping, 
 
POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 housing, and threshing is, at pf esent prices, 10$, 
 less. The potatoes leave no straw, the wheat 
 leaves straw, stubble, and gleanings for pigs. 
 The straw is worth, at least, 31. an acre, at pre 
 sent 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 T^SSOT, 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, 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 ge 
 neral use to this root, as food for man. How 
 ever, 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 
 
CHAP. VII."] POTATOES. 297 
 
 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 not/ting will fatten on potatoes alone. Car^ 
 rots,, parsnips, cabbages, will, in time, fatten 
 sheep and oxen, and, some of them, pigs ; but, 
 upon potatoes alone, no animal that 1 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, fora long while, set the 
 frosts at defiance. 
 
 284. If, Sir, you do me the honour to read 
 this letter, I shall have taken up a good deal of 
 your time ; but the subject is one of much iui-* 
 portance in rural economy, and therefore, can- 
 
2<)8 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 not 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 prove to me, that I am in error. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 And most humble Servant, 
 WM. COBBETT. 
 
 285. Now, observe, 1 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 Shake- 
 spear 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 with the following comparative estimate re 
 lative to ivheat and potatoes. 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES. 290 
 
 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 
 
 45| pounds of flour to each 
 
 bushel of wheat . . . . 1820 
 
 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, inflow, is . 2,139 
 
 Pounds of Bread. 
 
 Which will make of bread, at the 
 rate of d pounds of bread from 7 
 pounds of flour . . . , , . 2,739| 
 
300 POTATOES. [PART ir. 
 
 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 Potatoes. 
 
 t Ten tons, or . 22,400 
 
 Pounds of Flour. 
 
 Ten pounds of Potatoes contain 
 
 one pound of flpur ..,...,. 2,240 
 
 Pound? of Bread. 
 
 Which would, if it were possible 
 to extract the flour and get it in 
 a dry state, make of bread . . 2,880 
 
 289. Thus., then, the nutritions contents of 
 the Potatoes surpasses that of the wheat but 
 by a few pounds ; but to get at those contents, 
 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 no 
 thing against the cultivation of potatoes in any 
 place, or near any place where .there are people 
 
 to consume them at half a dollar 
 
CHAP. VII.] POTATOES, 301 
 
 a bushel, when wheat is tivo dollars a 
 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. 
 J know a prime Minister 9 who picks his nose and 
 regales himself with the contents. I solemnly 
 declare this to be true. 1 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 no 
 thing 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. T 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 fur 
 ther 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 
 
302 POTATOES. [PART n. 
 
 is the worst of all the green and root crops ; 
 but, of this 1 have said enough before; and, 
 therefore, 1 now dismiss the Potatoe with the 
 hope, that 1 shall never again have to write the 
 word, or to see the thing. 
 
CHAP. "VII I.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 303 
 
 i-i" 
 
 /-.... 
 
 CHAP. Vlil. 
 
 
 
 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 Swedish turnip 
 culture must be to those who keep cow r s 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 coun 
 try, 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, there 
 fore, 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 their 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. 
 
 z / 
 
304 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 294. Sheep. In the First Part I have said 
 how I fed my gheep 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 ex 
 cellent 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 con 
 sumed. 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, he should have had more money 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 305 
 
 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 with 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 to 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, 
 
 z 2 
 
306 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 especially when they follow summer cab 
 bages, be given in greater proportionate quan 
 tities. 
 
 298. As to the bulb of the Swedish turnip,! have 
 said enough, in the First Part, as food for hogs ; 
 and I should not have mentioned 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 
 Yiot more than about four hundred years since 
 the Londoners were wholly supplied with cab 
 bages, 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 fa 
 thers. The communication with England did 
 not bring out good English farmers. Books 
 made little impression unaccompanied with ac- 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 307 
 
 tual experiments on the spot. It was reserved 
 for the Boroughmongers, armed with gags, 
 halters, and axes, to drive from England expe 
 rience 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 whe 
 ther hogs would eat Swedish turnips saw some 
 turnips tossed down on the grass to the hogs, 
 which were eating sweet little loaved cabbages. 
 However, they eat the turnips too before they 
 left off. The second, who came on the after 
 noon 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 was 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 
 
308 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 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 surprising, 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 give 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 r 
 making a diet far superior to that of the fami 
 lies 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. Some 
 times 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 per 
 severed in, there might, it appears to me, be a 
 great improvement made even in it; for, the 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 309 
 
 labour of milking and of the subsequent opera 
 tions, 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 pos 
 sibility of waste. There would be 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 improve 
 ment ; 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 under 
 standings of pigs : and, for their encourage 
 ment, I beg leave to refer them to DANIEL'S 
 RURAL 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 
 
. <'';? - v \f'"': 
 
 310 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 men now alive. Judge, then, how easily a pig 
 might be taught to milk a cow, and what a 
 (t saving of labour" this would produce ! 
 
 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 sice 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 agricul- 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 311 
 
 ture, 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 grouping 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 re 
 quire (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 
 
312 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART U. 
 
 swill for two years? When a hog is only 15 or 
 16 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 ani 
 mal ? 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 nutri 
 tious as the old. Steer-beef is not nearly so good 
 as ox-beef. Young wether 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 dp 
 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 stuif without the aid of the hog ; 
 but, with that aid, they make them all exceed- 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 315 
 
 ingly 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. 1 like the eating far better 
 than the smelling system ; but when we are 
 talking about farming for gain, we ought to in 
 quire how any given weight of meat can be ob 
 tained 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 upoa 
 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. 
 
314 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 307. For these reasons, if [ were settled as a 
 farmer, I would let ray 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 1 will add, that, in keeping hogs in a grow- 
 ing state, we must never forget their lodging! 
 A few 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 T shiver at the thought, the place is not good 
 enough for my hogs. Tt 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 
 
CHAP. VIII.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 315 
 
 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 when they have done their 
 best, they lie clown. 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 on 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 there 
 fore, 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, inarched away very hastily to 
 her pigs, roused them up in a great bustle, and 
 
316 COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. [PART If. 
 
 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 1 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 
 birth. 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 are an inch or two high a good 
 large flock ^f turkeys will destroy an acre in 
 half a day, in four feet rows. Ducks and 
 geese will do 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 
 
CHAP. VII|.] COWS, SHEEP, HOGS, &C. 317 
 
 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. 
 
318 PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, [PART II. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 f 
 
 PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, FOOD AND RAIMENT. 
 
 310. LAND is of various prices, of course. 
 But, as I am, in this Chapter, addressing my 
 self 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. 
 
 311. It is my intention, however, to speak only 
 of farming land. This, 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, any where 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 
 
CHAP. IX.] FOOD AND RAIMENT. 319 
 
 into fields with posts and rails, the wood-land 
 being in the proportion of one to ten of the ara 
 ble 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, is worth 
 sixty dollars an acre, or thirteen pounds sterling; 
 of course, a farm of a hundred acres would cost 
 one thousand three hundred pounds. The rich 
 4ands 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 New Jersey, in Pennsylvania, 
 every where the price differs with the circum 
 stances 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 in England. 
 Even in Pennsylvania, and amongst the Qua 
 kers too, there is a sort of out-of-doors sloven 
 liness, which is never hardly seen in England. 
 You see bits of wood, timber, boards, chips, 
 lying about, here and there, and pigs and cattle 
 
 2 A 
 
320 PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, [PART II, 
 
 trampling about in a sort of confusion, which 
 would make an English farmer fret himself to 
 death; but which is here seen with great pla- 
 cidness. The out-buildings, except the barns, 
 and except in the finest counties of Pennsyl 
 vania, 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-Jiouse, 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 
 
CHAP, IX.] FOOD AND RAIMENT. 321 
 
 .that a farmer pays; and, sometimes, they far 
 exceed the wages. 
 
 314. It is, too, of importance to know, what 
 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 lest that I ever saw. They mow four 
 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 la 
 bour, 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 w r ell as man 
 can live. And, secondly, they have been edu 
 cated 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 be 
 loved friend, Mr. JAMES PAUL, used, at the 
 age of nearly sixty to go at the head of his 
 mowws, though his fine farm was his own, and 
 
 2 A 2 
 
PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, [PART II. 
 
 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 
 " 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 per 
 formed 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 
 
OHAP, IX ] FOOD AND RAIMENT. 323 
 
 cultivation they are very awkward at. The 
 gardens are ploughed in general. An American 
 labourer uses a spade in a very awkward man 
 ner. 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. Hanking, 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 Hampshire and Sussex, An ax is their tool, 
 and with that tool, at cutting down 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 neigh 
 bour of mine tells a story of an Irishman, who 
 promised he could do any thing, and whom, there 
 fore, 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. 
 
PRICES OF XAND, LABOUR, f [PART II. 
 
 318. 80 that our men, who come from Eng 
 land, 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 en 
 couraged by no hope of fair-play. My LORD 
 COGHRANE said, in his place in parliament, that 
 it would be so ; and so it was. Poor C ASHMAN, 
 that brave Irishman, with his dying breath, ac 
 cused the government and the merchants of 
 England of withholding from him his pittance of 
 prize money ! Ought not such a vile, robbing, 
 ftmrderous system to be destroyed ? 
 
 319. Of the same active, hardy, and brave 
 stuff, too, was composed 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 
 
CHAP. IX.] FOOD AND RAIMENT. 325 
 
 Alliance, and the slavery of the whole civilized 
 world. This is the stuff that gives as English 
 men an asylum ; that gives us time to breathe; 
 that enables us to deal our tyrants blows, 
 which, without 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 whole 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 re 
 moves so great a cause of disagreement. The 
 American labourers, like the tavern-keepers, 
 ai*e never servile, but always civiL Neither 
 boobishness nor meanness mark their character* 
 They never creep audfawn, 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: 
 
PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, [PART II. 
 
 Their pride w r ould restrain them if their plenty 
 did not; and, thus would it be with all la 
 bourers, 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 became 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 farmerSj 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 mor 
 tifications, that they would, to a certainty, hang 
 themselves in a month. 
 
 r 322. There are some, and even many, farmers, 
 who do not work themselves in the fields. But, 
 they all attend to the thing, and are all equally 
 civil to their working people. They manage 
 their affairs very judiciously. Little talking. 
 Orders plainly given in few words, ^nd in a 
 decided tone. This is their only secret. 
 
 323. The cattle and implements used in hus- 
 
CHAP. IX.] FOOD AND RAIMENT. 82? 
 
 bandry 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 lighfc 
 ness of the waggons and carts, the lightness and 
 toughness of the wood 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 well: 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 hospi 
 tality, and save a great parcel of money too. 
 Jf he have the Jack-Daw taste for heaping lit 
 tle round things together 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, 
 
828 PRICES OF LAND, LABOUR, &C. [PART Hi 
 
 his gardqn-looking fields, and his neat home- 
 steads, would have visitors from far and near ; 
 and, while every one would admire and praise, 
 no soul would envy him his possessions. Mr. 
 GATE& would soon have all these things. The 
 hedges only want planting ; and he would feel 
 so comfortably to know that the Botley Parson 
 fcould never again poke his nose into his sheep- 
 fold 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 taxa 
 tion will soon relieve men of their fears of dying 
 in poverty, and will, thereby, restore to Eng* 
 land the." hospitality" for which she was once 
 famed, but which now really exists no where 
 but in America, 
 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 329 
 
 CHAP. 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 know 
 ing*' 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 pro/its 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. 1 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 ; 
 
330 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART II. 
 
 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, what sort of so 
 ciety 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 beef, muttoq, 
 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 T 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 fai and three pounds and ten 
 ounces of suet. We cut a pound of solid fat 
 from each breast; and, after that it was too 
 
',' --'-', ^ ; .^ '.'.-' >. 
 
 -1 Adk 
 
 CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING 331 
 
 fat to be pleasant to eat. My flock being small, 
 forty, or thereabouts, of some neighbours join 
 ed 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, 1 am sure I do not know. 
 If any Englishman should be afraid that he 
 will find 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 
 tivo thousand, two hundred, and some odd pounds 9 
 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 per 
 mit; and he sold the ox in that condition. ! 
 need hardly say that the owner was a Quaker. 
 New Jersey frad the honour of producing this 
 ox, and the owner's name was JOB TYLER. 
 329. That there must be good bread in Ame 
 rica 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 
 
332 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART Ik 
 
 that England can produce. And, having now 
 provided the two principal articles, I will sup 
 pose, 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, in 
 deed, no better cheese need be wished for than 
 what is now made in this country. The ave 
 rage price is about seven pence a pound (English 
 money), which is much lower than even mid 
 dling 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, J state 
 distinctly, that as good cheese as I ever tasted, 
 if not the best, was of American produce, J 
 know the article well. Bread and cheese din 
 ners have been the dinners of a good fourth of 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OP HOUSE-KEEPING. 333 
 
 iny 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 Che 
 shire in Massachusetts ; he knows at least a 
 hundred persons himself that make it equally 
 good. And, indeed, why should it not be thu$ 
 in a country where the pasture is so rich; 
 where the sun warms every thing into sweet 
 ness ; 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 sweet 
 ness 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 gene 
 rally 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, 
 
334 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART II. 
 
 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 a fourth or fifth of the English price. The 
 English people, who pay enormously to keep 
 possession of the East and West Indies, pur 
 chase the produce even of the English posses 
 sions at a price double of that which the Ame 
 ricans give for that very produce ! What a hel 
 lish 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 extravagance to burn wax can 
 dles 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 ivhere 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 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 335 
 
 clams, In short, the variety and abundance 
 are such that [ 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 hun 
 dreds 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/a^'/^ 
 in New York on the meat arid fish flung out of 
 the houses. I shall be told, that it is only in 
 hot weather, that the shambles are left thus gar 
 nished. Very true; but, are the shambles of 
 any other country thus garnished in hot weather? 
 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 
 
 2B 
 
336 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART II. 
 
 year fa? four pence halfpenny (English) a bushel, 
 to boil for little pigs. Besides these, strawber 
 ries 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 (Eng 
 lish) 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 bar- 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 337 
 
 rel ; 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 Eng 
 land. French wine a sixth part of the English 
 price. Brandy and Rum about the same in 
 proportion ; 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 arid tear off your suspected handkerchief. 
 Here SJGNOR WAITHMAN, or any body in that 
 line, might have sold French gloves and shawls 
 without being tempted to quit the field of poli 
 tics as a compromise with the government ; and 
 
 2 B2 
 
338 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING, [PART II. 
 
 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 impor 
 tation. The ivoods 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-villains 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 &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 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 339 
 
 at a month's warning. 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 ser 
 vant, 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/row tyranny at home, 
 were naturally shy of calling other men their 
 slaves; and, therefore, "for more grace" as 
 Master Matthew says in the play* they called 
 their slaves servants. But, though I doubt not 
 
340 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART II. 
 
 that this device was quite efficient in quieting 
 their own consciences, it gave rise to the notion, 
 that slave and servant meant one and the same 
 thing, a conclusion perfectly natural and di 
 rectly 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 re 
 conciled to it by the conduct of some of their 
 superiors in life, who, without the smallest ap 
 parent reluctance, call themselves " Public 
 Servants," in imitation, 1 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 observ 
 ed, that " Public Servant" really means master. 
 Be the cause what it may, however, they con 
 tinue 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 bit 
 terness 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 incon 
 venience far greater than this, People in gene 
 ral are so comfortably situated, that very few, 
 and then only of those who are pushed hard, will 
 become domestics to any body. So that, gene.- 
 
CHAP. X.] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 341 
 
 rally speaking, Domestics of both sexes are far 
 from good. They are honest; but they are not 
 obedient. They are careless. Wanting fre 
 quently 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 coun 
 try, if it could be supplied with nice, clean, 
 dutiful English maid servants ! As to the mm, it 
 does not much signify ; but, for the want of the 
 maids, nothing but the absence of grinding taxa 
 tion 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, youjind 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 
 
342 EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. [PART II. 
 
 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 Boroughmon- 
 gers.- No one comes to forbid you to open or 
 shut up a window. No insolent set of Com 
 missioners 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 an 
 appeal from themselves to another set, deriving 
 their authority from the same source, and hav 
 ing 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 Ser 
 vants? 
 
 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 hot have it in their power 
 to treat others as slaves, it becomes a man of 
 
CHAP. X;] EXPENCES OF HOUSE-KEEPING. 343 
 
 fortune, proposing to emigrate to America, to 
 consider soberly, whether he, or his wife, be of 
 this taste; and, if the result of his considera 
 tion be in the affirmative, his best way will be 
 to continue to live under the Borough mongers, 
 or, which I would rather recommend, hang 
 himself at once. 
 
 . ... 
 
 " 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 
344 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II 
 
 [, 
 
 CHAP. Xi. 
 
 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 -Ameri- 
 cains; and, indeed, what are they else? Of the 
 manners and customs somewhat peculiar to 
 America I have said so much, here arid 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 child 
 ren, I will endeavour to describe the society 
 that he will find here. To give general descrip 
 tions 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 pub 
 lic-spirited gentleman of moderate fortune, in 
 Lancashire, who, with a large family, now ba 
 lances whether he shall come, or stay. 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 345 
 
 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, ob 
 serves, 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 preten 
 sions to superiority of blood make their ap 
 pearance 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 must beget a general 
 
346 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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 fasci 
 nating a nature, that men should love it for its 
 own sake. 
 
 347. The boasting of wealth, and the endea 
 vouring 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 unaccompanied with some degree of 
 envy of more successful neighbours, and which 
 has its foundation first in a dread of future want, 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 347 
 
 and next in a desire to obtain distinction by 
 means of wealth; this anxious eagerness, so un- 
 amiable 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 univer 
 sal 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 man 
 ner 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 
 
348 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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, riot to forget a 
 garden of three quarters of an acre and the but 
 ter 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. Not at all. 
 He has only one hundred and Jifty 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 two hundred tveight. 
 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 can- 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 349 
 
 not 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 in- 
 " habitant is at his Liberty fully to use and en- 
 " JY whatever his Farm produceth, the Fruits 
 " of the Earth, the Increase of his Flock, and 
 " the like: All the Improvements 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 in- 
 " jured, 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 
 
350 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 " that in great Store: They are also well pro* 
 " vided with all other Sorts of Household 
 " Goods, and necessary Implements for Hus- 
 " bandry : Every one, according to his Rank, 
 " hath all Things ivhich conduce to make Life 
 " easy and happy. They are not sued at Law 
 " but before the Ordinary Judges, where they 
 *' are treated with Mercy and Justice, accord- 
 " ing to the Laws of the Land ; neither are 
 " they impleaded in Point of Property, or ai- 
 " raigned for any Capital Crime, how heinous 
 " soever, but before the King's Judges, and ac- 
 " cording to the Laws of the Land. These are 
 " the Advantages consequent from that Politi* 
 " cal Mixt Government which obtains in Eng- 
 
 " land- " 
 
 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 " 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 w r ere not, like 
 their successors, the Boroughrnongers, taxing, 
 plundering tyrants. Their quarrels with their 
 subjects were about mere ivords: with the 
 
/ 4 ' ?' 
 
 CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 351 
 
 Borough mongers 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 ap 
 point Commissioners to seize what they choose. 
 There is, in fact, no law of property left. The 
 Bishop-begotten and hell-born system of Fund 
 ing has stripped England of every vestige of 
 what was her ancient character. Her hospi 
 tality along with her freedom have crossed the 
 Atlantic ; and here they are to shame our ruf 
 fian 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 re 
 ceived 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 
 
352 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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 govern 
 ment: 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 superintendance of industrious and accom 
 plished house- wifes, or their daughters, who all 
 read a great deal, and in whom that gentle 
 treatment from parents arid 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 Cormvall, which 
 contains, *to my thinking, the prettiest women 
 in our country. However, young or old, bloom 
 ing or fading, well or ill, rich or poor, they still 
 preserve their good humour. 
 
GHAP. XI.J CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 353 
 
 " But, since, alas ! frail beauty must decay, 
 
 " CurlM, 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 flights 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 power of selection. They are all well- 
 
354 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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 pos 
 sessions, 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 in 
 deed, 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 wailing ; 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 355 
 
 the ardent friendship ; the deadly enmity; the 
 *love that makes people Mil 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 Eng 
 lish, 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, 1 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 they are ours; because they belong to 
 us and we to them, and because we must 
 resemble each other. There are some Americans 
 that 1 like full as well as I do any man in Eng 
 land; but, if, nation against nation, 1 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 con 
 cerns of England. Why should they? BOLTON 
 
 F R cannot hire spies to entrap them. 
 
 As matter of curiosity, they may contem 
 plate such works as those of FLETCHER ; but, 
 they cannot feel much upon tjie subject; and 
 
356 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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 lack, to 
 the last moment. It has presented itself several 
 times ; but 1 have turned from the thought, as 
 men do from thinking of any mortal disease 
 that is at work in their frame. It is not cove- 
 tousness ; it is not niggardliness ; it is not in 
 sincerity ; it is not enviousness ; it is not cow 
 ardice, above all things: it is DRINKING. 
 Aye, and that too, amongst but too many men, 
 who, one would think, would loath it. You 
 ran 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 re 
 putation that are found, especially 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 non 
 sense and smut, which last is a sure mark of a 
 silly and, pretty generally, even of abase mind. 
 But, they tipple; and the infernal spirits they 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 357 
 
 tipple too ! The scenes that I witnessed at 
 Harrisburgh I shall never forget. I almost 
 wished (God forgive me !) that there were Bo- 
 roughmongers here to tax these drinkers: they 
 would soon reduce them to a moderate dose. 
 Any nation that feels itself uneasy with its ful 
 ness 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 and 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 odious- 
 ness of the vice would be 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 numer 
 ous songs, some in very elegant and witty lan 
 guage, from the pens of debauched men of 
 talents, drinking is said to be necessary, in cer 
 tain 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, 
 
358 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 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 Harris- 
 burgh there were several as fine young men as 
 I ever saw. Well-dressed, well educated, po 
 lite, and every thing but sober. What 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 w r ere so unfortu 
 nate 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 ivomen 
 of any figure in life do by no means give into 
 the practice ; but, abhor it as much as well- 
 bred women in Erigland, who, in general, no 
 more think of drinking strong liquors, than they 
 do of drinking poison. 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 359 
 
 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, pro 
 vided both had plenty of good food/ And, be 
 sides, 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 se 
 verely 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 knew, 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 stretched 
 
360 MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 *. v *""*-.<''"' ' ' ' 
 
 by my front gate, against the public highway ; 
 and, if he had followed the example of NOAH, 
 he would not have endeavoured to excuse him 
 self 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 be 
 longed to, many of whom served in the Ame 
 rican 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 them 
 selves, I know riot; 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 Pennsyl 
 vania, 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 co 
 lour 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 
 proportion of ardent spirits, equal, in Portugal 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 361 
 
 wine, to a fifth of the wine ; 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 mo 
 thers give their children Port wine to strengthen 
 them! 1 never like your wine-physicians, though 
 they are great favourites with but too many pa 
 tients. 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 probation," 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 
 
MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND [PART II. 
 
 '"fii '., ... 
 
 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 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 
 
CHAP. XI.] CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 363 
 
 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 ? 
 
 
364 RURAL SPORTS. [ART II. 
 
 CHAP. 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 per 
 sons, 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 per 
 sons, is nonsense. 
 
 370. Others, in their mitigated hostility to the 
 sports of the field, say, that it is wanton cruelty 
 to shoot or hunt; and that we kill animals from 
 the farm-yard only because their flesh is neces 
 sary to our own 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 ail 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 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 365 
 
 weak position of the two former, and still re 
 solved 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 per 
 formed 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 lo wings, whinings, and bleatings ; ob 
 serve 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, at least, may 
 be easy and soft. Witness all this with your 
 own eyes; and tty^p go weeping to bed, at the 
 
366 RURAL SPORTS. [PART II. 
 
 possibility of a hare having been terribly fright 
 ened 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, sentimental eaters of flesh: and 
 here I propose the terms of a lasting com 
 promise 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 na 
 tural death, of which, I am sure, your compas 
 sionate 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, flsh, 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) with what has been cruelly 
 taken from a fowl; and that,.ia order to cover 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 367 
 
 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 1 
 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 ofjlax. 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 sports 
 men 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 con- 
 
 2 D 
 
308 RURAL SPORTS. [PART II. 
 
 gregate 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 effeminate. Besides, the scenes 
 of rural sport are necessarily at a distance from 
 cities and towns. This is another great consi 
 deration ; for though great talents are wanted 
 to be employed in the hives of men, they are 
 very rarely acquired in these hives : the sur 
 rounding objects are too numerous, too near 
 the eye, too frequently under it, and too arti 
 ficial. 
 
 374. For these reasons I have always encou 
 raged 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 
 looks and prints relating to these matters. 
 They have drawn horses, dogs, and game them 
 selves. These things, in which they took so 
 deep an interest, not only engaged their atten 
 tion and wholly kept them from all taste for, 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 369 
 
 and even all knowledge of, cards and other 
 senseless amusements ; but, they led them to 
 read and write 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 con 
 cerns. 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 Englishmen, 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 encourage 
 ment to write again, was a very clear answer 
 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 
 2 D 2 
 
370 RURAL SPORTS. [PART II. 
 
 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 secre 
 taries. I have dictated scores of registers to 
 them, which have^owe to the press without my 
 ever looking at them. I dictated registers to 
 them at the age of thirteen, and even of tivelve. 
 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 build 
 ings 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 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 edu 
 cation, and one that any man may pursue, if he 
 will, with similar effects. I remembered, too, 
 that 1 myself had had a sportsman-education. 
 Iran after the hare-hounds at the age of nine or 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 371 
 
 ten. I have many and many a day left the 
 rooks to dig up the wheat and peas, while 1 
 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 my 
 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 fol 
 low 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 
 
372 RURAL SPORTS. [PART II. 
 
 is only one remove from the Indian hunting. 
 I never saw, that 1 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 Qua 
 ker that I ever heard of, and who was grand 
 father of the famous General Brown. Tn short, 
 there is none of what we call hunting ; or, so 
 little, that no man can expect to meet with it. 
 
 378. No coursing. I never saw a greyhound 
 here. Indeed, there are no hares that have the 
 same manners that ours have, or any thing like 
 their fleetness. 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 phea 
 sants 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 ; but, mix, like common fowls. The in 
 tercourse between the males and females is 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 373 
 
 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 par- 
 tridges are not quails; because quails are gre 
 garious. They keep in flocks, like rooks (called 
 crows in America), or like larks, or starlings; 
 of which the reader will remember a remark 
 able 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 couve, 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 
 
374 RURAL SPORTS. [PART tr. 
 
 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 outward ; 
 and are, in short, in all their manners, precisely 
 the same as the English partridge, with this 
 exception, that they will sometimes 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, 
 though 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 
 
CHAP. XII.] RURAL SPORTS. 375 
 
 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 2lst of November. So 
 that here are jive months of this sport ; and 
 pheasants and partridges are shot from Sep 
 tember to April. 
 
 383. The snipes are called English snipes, 
 which they resemble 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. 
 
376 RURAL SPORTS. [PARTII. 
 
 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. Peo 
 ple 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 tres 
 pass 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. 
 
CHAP. XIII.] PAUPERS. 377 
 
 CHAP. 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 lite 
 rally true ; for the poverty that is here has, al 
 most the whole of it, come from Europe; but, 
 the means of keeping the poor arise here updn 
 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 Ame 
 rica 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 num 
 ber of persons relieved by poor rates, the greater 
 part of them are Europeans, who have come 
 hither, at different periods and under circum 
 stances of distress, different, of course, in de- 
 
378 PAUPERS. [PART n. 
 
 gree. There is, besides, a class of persons 
 here of a description very peculiar ; namely ; 
 the free negroes. Whatever may have been the 
 motives, which Jed to their emancipation, it is 
 very certain, that it has saddled the white peo 
 ple with a charge. These negroes are a dis 
 orderly, improvident set of beings; and, the 
 paupers, in the country, consist almost wholly 
 of them. Take out the foreigners and the ne 
 groes, and you will find, that the paupers of 
 JVew 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 pau 
 per under them means a man that is able and 
 willing to work, and who does work 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 de 
 pendents, that he is actually starving and faint 
 ing at his work. This is what is meant by a 
 
CHAP. XIII.] , PAUPERS. 379 
 
 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 ! 
 
 393. 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 beg 
 gars 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 
 
380 PAUPERS. [PART ir, 
 
 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 tremb 
 ling voice, with " pray bestow your charity, 
 " for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake have compas- 
 " sion on a poor soul ;" and, if you toss a half 
 penny into his ragged hat, he exclaims in an 
 extacy, " God Almighty bless your honour!" 
 though you, perhaps, be but a shoe-black your 
 self. 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 pre 
 cise sum ; and never sinks below silver. In 
 short, there is no begging, properly so called. 
 There is nothing that resembles English beg 
 ging even in the most distant degree. 
 
 394, I have now been here twenty months, and 
 [ 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 J could help him to a quarter 
 of a dollar ; for, it is surprising how apt scho 
 lars they are. " Yes," said I, " if you will 
 
CHAP. XIII.] PAUPERS. 381 
 
 " 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 dol 
 lar a day, and pork for the tenth part of a dol 
 lar 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 Ame- 
 " rica besides myself, if you be not hanged be- 
 " fore this day week, and come here again, I 
 " will help you to a quarter of a dollar." He 
 carne, and 1 kept my word. The second beg 
 gar 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 some 
 what of reserve, as if Jie thought the person to 
 whom he was 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 Secre 
 tary of State of His Majesty the King of Sar 
 dinia, duly signed and countersigned, and seal 
 ed 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 authenticated by the Mayor and 
 a Notary Public, with all due formality. All 
 
382 PAUPERS. [PART n. 
 
 the time these papers were opening, I was 
 wondering what this gentleman could be. 1 
 read, and stared, and read again. I was 
 struck not less by the novelty than the auda 
 city of the thing. " So then," said I, breaking 
 silence, " your sovereign, after taxing you to 
 " your ruin, has been graciously pleased to 
 u give you credentials to show, that he autho- 
 " rizes 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 aright to shew, if 1 can, why I 
 " ought not to give." He then, in order to pre 
 vent 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?' 
 " Ah ! par lieu" said he, snatching up his 
 " credentials, "je vois que vous &tes un avare" 
 
CHAP;. XIII.] PAUPERS. 383 
 
 Ah ! 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 Bo- 
 roughmongers, 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 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 ad 
 versity- 
 
 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 my 
 
 2E 
 
384 PAUPERS. [PART n. 
 
 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? 1 
 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 ex 
 pected 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 din 
 ners : 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 fe 
 male, all hate a government, under which every 
 one enjoys his earnings, and no more, Low, 
 
CHAP. XIII.] PAUPERS. 385 
 
 poor and miserable as they may be, their prin- 
 ple is precisely the same as that of Borough- 
 mongers 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, ivithout 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 utmost to establish. 
 
 398. Of the goers back was a Mr. ON SLOW 
 WAKEFORD, who was a coach-maker, some 
 years, in Philadelphia, and who, having, from 
 nothing hardly to begin with, made a comfort 
 able 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 happy 
 2 E2 
 
386 PAUPERS. [PART n. 
 
 " state of England. The money that I have 
 " paid in taxes here, ivould have kept me like a 
 " gentleman there. Why," added he, " if a la- 
 " bouring man here were seen having in his 
 "possession, the fowls and other things that 
 " labourers in Philadelphia carry home from 
 " market, he would be stopped 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." 1 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 be 
 fore the magistrate the next day, and not re 
 leased until he had produced witnesses to prove 
 that he had not stolen a thing, which was 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, 1 dare say, alive. 
 He is a very worthy man. He lives at CHI- 
 CHESTER. I appeal to him for the truth of the 
 anecdote relating to him. As to the butter 
 
CHAP. XIII.] PAUPERS. 387 
 
 story, I cannot name the precise date; but, I 
 seriously declare the fact to have been as 1 
 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. 
 
388 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 CHAP. 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, with 
 out 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 dis- 
 " tinction" 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, 1 will just 
 give a sketch (for it can be nothing more) of the 
 Government and Laws of this country. 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 389 
 
 402. The country is divided into States. 
 Each of these States has its own separate go 
 vernment, 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 Represen 
 tatives, all which together are called the Con 
 gress. 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 Represen 
 tatives. 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 ap 
 pears 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. 
 
 405. This may serve to show how little Mr. 
 
390 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 JERRY BENTHAM, the new Mentor of the West 
 minster Telemachus, knows about the political 
 part of the American governments. Jerry, 
 whose great, and, indeed, only argument, in 
 support of annual parliaments 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 ex 
 perience. 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 adminis 
 trator of penance, that is to say, Beggar-Whip- 
 per General, is a very proper person to be 
 toasted by those, who have plotted and con 
 spired against Major Cartwright. Mr. Broug 
 ham praises Jerry : that is enough ! 
 406. In the four New England States, the 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 391 
 
 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 constitu 
 tion 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 him- 
 " self 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 per- 
 " formed 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 pre- 
 " scribed, be an elector." 
 
 407. And then, the proof of bad moral cha- 
 
392 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 racter, is, " a conviction of bribery, forgery, 
 " perjury, duelling, fraudulent bankruptcy, 
 " theft, or other offences, for which an in- 
 " famous punishment is inflicted." "By forgery 
 is not, of course, contemplated puff-out forgery ; 
 for that, as an act of resistance of oppression, is 
 fully justifiable : it is not only not an immoral, 
 but it is a meritorious act. The forgery here 
 meant is forgery committed against 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 disqualifi 
 cations ; but, what a nest of villains it would 
 exclude in England ! White men are mention 
 ed, 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 per 
 fectly just; for, Connecticut is not to be the 
 receptacle of those, whom other States may 
 choose 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) pre 
 cisely what we reformers in England ask as to 
 only one branch out of the three. Whoever 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION, 393 
 
 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. Who 
 ever is enrolled in the militia, though he have 
 no freehold and pay no tax, has a vote. So 
 that nothing but beggars, paupers, and crimi 
 nals, can easily be excluded ; and, you will 
 observe, if you please, Messieurs Borough- 
 mongers, 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 delibe 
 rate 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 Yan- 
 key 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 tranquillity, and without any party 
 spirit or delusion, the plan of us " wild and 
 "mad" Reformers of Old England. Please 
 God, J will, before T go home, perform a pil 
 grimage into this State ! 
 
394 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II, 
 
 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 them. 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 uni 
 versal suffrage, he came down to general suffrage : 
 this was only nonsense; but, universal INTE 
 RESTS is downright borough-mongering. Well 
 may he despair of doing any good in the House 
 of Commons ! - " Universal interests' is the Vir 
 ginian 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 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 repre 
 sentation, 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 Eng- 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 395 
 
 land, and honestly call a part of them his pro 
 perty, and then he will not add the meanest to 
 the most dastardly apostacy. 
 
 410. The right of suffrage in America is, how 
 ever, upon the whole, sufficient to guard the peo 
 ple 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 controul. Besides, in England, Ire 
 land, and Scotland, there is an established 
 Church ; a richly endowed and powerful hier 
 archy ; and this, which is really & 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, 1st. 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 ; 4th, that there are 
 
396 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 no proud and insolent grasping Borough- 
 mongers, 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 Smithfield, bought and sold, or hired 
 out ; 6th, that the Members of Congress do not 
 sell their votes at so much a vote ; 7th, 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 knows 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 Com 
 mon Law of England is the Common Laiv of 
 America. These States were formerly Colonies 
 of England. Our Boroughmongers wished to 
 tax them without their own consent. But, the Co 
 lonies, standing upon the ancient Laws of Eng 
 land, which say that no man shall be taxed with 
 out his own consent, resisted the Boroughmon 
 gers of that day ; overcame them in war ; cast 
 off all dependence, and became free and inde 
 pendent States. But, the great man, who con- 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 397 
 
 ducted that Revolution, as well as the people 
 in general, were too wise to cast off the excel 
 lent laws of their forefathers. They, therefore, 
 declared, that the Common Laiv of England 
 should remain, being subject to such modifica 
 tions as might be necessary in the new circum 
 stances in which the peopie 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 writ 
 ten 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 per 
 suade 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, accord 
 ingly, when the present Royal Family were 
 placed upon the throne, there was a solemn 
 declaration by the Parliament in these words : 
 
308 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART Ii r 
 
 " The Laws' of England are the Birthright of 
 " the People of England." The Boroughmon- 
 gers, by giving new powers to Justices of the 
 Peace and Judges, setting aside the trial by 
 Jury in many cases, both of property and per 
 son, 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. 
 
 413. The Americans have taken special care 
 to prevent the like encroachments on their 
 rights : so that, while they have Courts of Jus 
 tice, Juries, Judges, Sheriffs, and the rest, as 
 we have ; while they have all the good part of 
 the Laws now in force in England, they have 
 none of the bad. They have none of that Sta- 
 tute 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 Ame 
 rica, when they come to settle their new go 
 vernments, 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 Esta 
 blished Church, or, to pass any law to give to 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 399 
 
 -' ' * ' % ' ' v /'; .f'-' ' . : ^,"7'/ 
 
 any body the power of imprisoning men other 
 wise 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. Such is the effect of that con 
 fidence, which a good and just government has 
 in the people whom it governs ! 
 
 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 of 
 fence 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 ivords, 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 
 
 2F 
 
400 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 "... ...' * 
 
 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 Legis 
 lature of that State will repair this act of injus 
 tice and tyranny remains yet to be seen. 
 
 116. 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 prefer 
 ring 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 publishing 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 ! 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 401 
 
 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 
 publication 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, profli 
 gacy, fraud, hypocrisy, debauchery, drunken 
 ness : 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 and 
 folly,. and to strengthen and promote virtue and 
 wisdom ; and these, and these only, are the uses 
 of the press. I know it has been said, for 1 
 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 pub 
 lisher would be despised for his tittle-tattle; 
 
 2 F 2 
 
402 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 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 adhe 
 rence 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 wicked 
 ness 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 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 403 
 
 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 discussion, 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 hand 
 ling 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 squan 
 dering 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 trans 
 porting, a new species of peace officers, a new 
 species of Justices of the Peace, troops em 
 ployed regularly in aid of the magistrate, and 
 at last, spies and blood-money bands, all pro 
 claim a real revolution in the nature of the go 
 vernment. If the press had continued free, 
 these sad effects of a waste of the public money 
 
404 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 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 th 
 exposure would have occasioned ; and, if the 
 parliament had not checked the waste and pu 
 nished 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 account- 
 " able, 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 la>v 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 scanda 
 lous and malicious. Unless these things be 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 405 
 
 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 thfc 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 falsehoods; and, 
 even in such cases, they are generally punished 
 by the public contempt. The press is, there 
 fore, taken altogether, what the magistrate always 
 ought to be: "a terror to evil doers, and a re* 
 " ward to those who do well." 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 
 
406 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 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 imme 
 diately to my old neighbours of Botley, and 
 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, ft is a state of such blessed 
 ness, 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 win 
 dows, 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 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 407 
 
 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, with 
 out any dread of the interloping and insolent 
 interference of a tax-gatherer or spy of any de 
 scription. Lastly, when he dies, he can be 
 queath 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, gran 
 tees, 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 lega 
 cies. 
 
408 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II, 
 
 424. But, you will ask, " are there no taxes 
 " in America ?" Yes ; and taxes, or public con 
 tributions of some sort, there must be in every 
 civilized state ; otherwise government could not 
 exist, and without government there could be 
 no security for property or persons. 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 scaven 
 gers 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 em 
 ployed 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 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 in 
 tegrity 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 purposes of go 
 vernment. The army 9 if it can be so called, 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 409 
 
 costs but a mere trifle. * It consists of a few 
 men, who are absolutely necessary to keep 
 forts from crumbling down, and guns from rot 
 ting with rust. The navy is an object of care, 
 and its support and increase a cause of consi 
 derable expence. But the government, 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 prepa 
 rations. The government could not stand a 
 week, if it were hated by the people ; nor, in 
 deed, 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 se 
 cret services of any kind. Hence the cheapness 
 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 Ws. 
 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, insurance, wharfage, storage, to pay. 
 
410 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 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 2s. 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 ty 
 rants will not suffer us to use it, until we have 
 paid them 15s. 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 1 5s. 
 a bushel for them to bestow on themselves, on 
 their families and dependants, 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 Eng 
 land. Glass, for instance, we buy for half the 
 price that you buy it. The reason is, that you 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 411 
 
 are compelled to pay a heavy tax, which is not 
 paid by us for that same glass. It is the same 
 as to almost every thing that comes from Eng 
 land. You are compelled to pay the Borough- 
 mongers 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, [f 
 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. Fanners sometimes sell soap and can 
 dles ; but they never buy any. A labouring 
 man, or a mechanic, buys a sheep now and 
 then. Three or four days' works 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 be 
 fore 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 
 
412 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 believe, that Englishmen would submit to such 
 atrocious, such degrading tyranny. 
 
 427. I have had living with me an English- 
 man y 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 Tovery 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 spy 
 ing of tax-gatherers. We may wear hair-pow 
 der 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 pub 
 lic, that is to say, the people's, money. There 
 are no such men here. Those who receive 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 413 
 
 public money here, do something for it* They 
 earn it. They are no richer than other people. 
 The Judges here are 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 bow to. They will 
 bow to nothing else. And, they bow with re 
 verence 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 some 
 times 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 al 
 most wish them to be farmers in England, f 
 said to a neighbour the other day, in half an 
 ger : " I wish your farm were at Botley. There 
 
414 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 " is a fellow there, who would soon let you 
 " knowj 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 hen's 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 circum 
 stance of his grandfather being an Englishman, 
 as, indeed, most of the Americans are, who 
 are descended from Englishmen: to this neigh 
 bour 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 in 
 vited him to come to my house, and told him, 
 that 1 would show him the acts which the Bo 
 rough-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 Eng- 
 " land really come to this! Is the land of our 
 " forefathers brought to this state of abject 
 
CHAP..XIV.] AND .RELIGION. 415 
 
 ." 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. " ft 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 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 neigh 
 bourhood of Harrisburgh in Pennsylvania, I 
 saw some hop-planters. They grow prodigious 
 quantities of hops. They are obliged to put 
 their hills so wide a part, that they can have 
 
 2 G 
 
416 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PAKT II. 
 
 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 plough 
 ing in the year. When I told them about the 
 price of hops in England and about the diffi 
 culty of raising them, they were greatly sur 
 prised; 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 gardeH 
 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 gather 
 ing, one of the spies called Excisemen called on 
 Chalcraft and asked him why he did not enter 
 his hops. Chalcraft did not understand ; but, 
 answered, he meant to take them in shortly, 
 though he did not think they were yet quite 
 ripe. u Aye," said the Exciseman, " but I 
 " mean, when do you mean to enter them at 
 "the excise office? 39 Chalcraft did not know 
 (not living in a hop-country,) that he had already 
 incurred a penalty for not reporting to the ty 
 rants 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 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 417 
 
 of God without paying money to the Borough- 
 mongers 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, T 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 Di- 
 " vine Providence to place them in that state." 
 But, here is a striking instance of the falsehood 
 and blasphemy of this Doctrine; for, provi 
 dence had sent Chalcraft the hops, and he had 
 put poles to them. Providence had brought 
 the hops to perfection ; but then came the Bo- 
 roughmongers and the Parson to take from 
 this poor man this boon of a benevolent Maker; 
 What, did God order a tax with all its vexa 
 tious 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 so 
 lemnly 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 
 2 o 2 
 
418 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 things ? Had it pleased God to do this ? What 
 impunity, what blasphemy, then, to ascribe to 
 Providence the manifold sufferings occasioned 
 by the Borougbmongers' taxes and Parson's 
 tithes ! 
 
 431. But, ray 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!' 7 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 
 iu danger. They mean, that they are in dan- 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION.-3 419 
 
 ger of being* compelled to work for their bread. 
 This is what they mean. You remember, that, 
 at our last meeting; at Winchester, they pro 
 posed 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 con 
 gregation. And, if he think that it is not ne 
 cessary for him to belong to any congregation, 
 he pays nothing at all. And, the consequence 
 is, that all is harmony and good neighbour 
 hood. Here are not disputes about religion; 
 or, if there be, they make no noise. Here is 
 
420 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART H. 
 
 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 thece 
 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 has 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 inpst about them have the 
 least right to complain ; but, for my present 
 purpose, it is sufficient to shew, that they have 
 nothing to do with religion. 
 
 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 pos 
 sibly suppose, that their wickedness and mi 
 sery 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 com 
 mon 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 a|*y one, 
 they do not proceed from fear or hope, but 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 421 
 
 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 Boroughmongers, in answer to state 
 ments like these, say that this is a thinly in 
 habited 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 inhabi 
 tants, 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 
 

 422 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 never is there seen in the streets what is 
 called in England, a girl of the ioivn; and, 
 what is still more, never is there seen in those 
 streets a beggar. I wish yon, my old neigh 
 bours, could see this city of New York. Ports 
 mouth and Gosport, taken together, are mise 
 rable 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 pro 
 duce 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 inso 
 lence, 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 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 govern 
 ment: 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 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 423 
 
 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 per 
 formed 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 bril 
 liancy; and they enjoy " Catholic Emancipa- 
 " tion" without any petitioning or any wrang 
 ling. 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 crowd 
 ing in and out of them ; the same play-houses ; 
 the same men, same dress, same language : he 
 will miss by day only the nobility and the beg 
 gars, and by night only the street- walkers and 
 pickpockets. These are to be found only 
 where there is an established clergy, upheld by 
 
424 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART 11. 
 
 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 dan 
 ger. 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 
 deal more. Why give the five millions a year 
 then, to Parsons and their wives 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 circum 
 stance 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 
 
HAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 425 
 
 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 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 precept, 
 disregard that conduct. Because, for instance, 
 a man, though a very indifferent Christian, may 
 be a most able soldier, seaman, physician, law 
 yer, 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 ob 
 served in the teacher belongs to the same de 
 partment of life as the precept which he is deli 
 vering, if the one differ from the other we can 
 not believe the teacher to be sincere, unless he, 
 while he enforces his precept upon us, acknow 
 ledge his own misconduct. Suppose me, for 
 
426 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II, 
 
 instance, to be a great liar, as great a liar, if 
 possible, as STEWART of the COURIER, who 
 has said that 1 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 1 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 con 
 clude, that if he thought what he said, he would 
 not be such a liar himself. I should rely upon 
 the parson generally, or J should not. If I did, 
 1 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 re 
 ligion ; if it be not all a mere matter of form, it 
 must always be of the greatest consequence, 
 that the example of the teacher correspond with 
 his teaching. And the most likely way to in 
 sure 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 con 
 sequence of his perseverance in a line of good 
 conduct. 
 
 441. And thus it is with the clergy in Ame* 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 427 
 
 rica, who are duly and amply rewarded for 
 their diligence, arid 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 congregation. 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, with 
 out deserving to be burnt alive, take the liberty 
 to differ; especially since the world has con 
 stantly before its eyes a society, who excel in 
 all the Christian virtues, who practise that 
 simplicity which others teach, who, in the great 
 work of charity, really and truly hide from the 
 left hand 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; so we are apt to look upon the priest 
 as being religious, and especially when we call 
 
420 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 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 
 ahove the tops of the chimneys; which, perhaps, 
 was making their possessions rather too ethe- 
 real; but, since our law calls them " spiritual 
 "persons;" since they profess, that "their king- 
 " dom 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 be 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 ob 
 vious 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 congre 
 gation or parish. It is as good to them to be 
 hated by their parishioners as to be loved by 
 them. They very frequently never even see their 
 parish more than once in four or five years. 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 429 
 
 They solemnly declare at the altar, that they 
 believe themselves called by the Holy Ghost to 
 take on them the cure of souls; they get pos 
 session 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 annoy 
 ance which their curate gives. 
 
 443. As to their general character and con 
 duct; 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 Boroughrnongers. 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 leading men at Pitt Clubs a!! over 
 the country ; they were the foremost to defend 
 the peculation of Melville. In short, there 
 
430 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 has been no public man guilty of an infamous 
 act, 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. 
 
 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 Win 
 chester, when they brought forward their lying 
 address to the Regent. You saw them on that 
 day, and so did I ; and in them 1 saw a band 
 of more complete blackguards than I ever be 
 fore 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. 1 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 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 431 
 
 "person" hiccup. There were about twenty 
 of them mounted upon a large table in the 
 room; and there they jumped, stamped, hal 
 looed, roared, thumped with canes and um 
 brellas, 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 J 
 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 1 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 there 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 parson, who 
 had his mouth within a foot of Lord Coch- 
 rane's ear, all the time his Lordship was speak- 
 
 2 u 
 
432 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, [PART II. 
 
 ing, and who kept on saying : " You lie ! you 
 " lie! yow lie! you lie!" as loud as he could 
 utter the words. 
 
 445. BAKER, the Botley Parson, was ex 
 tremely 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" 
 
 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 pub 
 lic 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 an 
 other 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 
 game sort of people as they are here ; but, what 
 a difference in the Clergyman ! What a differ- 
 
CHAP. XIV.] AND RELIGION. 433 
 
 ence 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 onjlcsh 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 no Magpies in 
 America ; but, it will please you still more to 
 hear, that no men that resemble them are par 
 sons here. 1 have sometimes 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 bsks; so does the Parson. 
 The Magpie devours alike the young animals 
 and the eggs ; so does the Parson. The Mag 
 pie's clack is everlastingly going ; so is the 
 
434 GOVERNMENT, LAWS, &C. [PART II. 
 
 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 greedi 
 ness, 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 th ir Parsons, and getting the 
 people to receive them and cherish them as the 
 Bulwark of religion. 
 
 END OF PART II. 
 
 
 
 J*hn M'Creery, Priuter, Black Horse Court, London. 
 
YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 Treating of the Face of the Country, the Climate, the Soil, 
 the Products, the Mode of Cultivating the Land, the Prices 
 of Land, of Labour, of Food, of Raiment ; of the Expenses 
 of Housekeeping, and of the usual manner of Living; of 
 the Manners, Customs, and Character of the People ; and 
 of the Government, Laws, and Religion. 
 
 IN THREE PARTS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM CQBBETT. 
 PART III. 
 
 Containing, Mr. Hulme's Introduction to his Journal 
 Mr. Hulme's Journal, made during a Tour in the Western 
 Countries of America, in which Tour he visited Mr. Birk- 
 beck's Settlement Mr. Cobbett's Letters to Mr. Birkbeck, 
 remonstrating with that Gentleman on the numerous delu 
 sions, contained in his two publications, entitled " Notes on 
 a Journey in America" and " Letters from Illinois" Post 
 script, being the detail of an experiment made in the culti 
 vation of the Ruta Baga Second Postscript, a Refutation 
 of Fearon's Falsehoods. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1819. 
 
5A 
 
 iMU 
 
 
 at Stationers' 
 
 >fW3 
 
 John M'Creery, Printer, 
 Black-Horse-Court, London. 
 
CONTENTS OF PART III. 
 
 Page 
 Dedication . . . ; ,,.,,. 439 
 
 Preface ,;; A >*.-. 441 
 
 Mr. Hulme's Introduction to his Journal ..... 443 
 Mr Hulme's Journal, made during a Tour in the Western 
 Countries of America, in which Tour he visited Mr. 
 
 Birkbeck's Settlement 456 
 
 Mr. Cobbett's Letters to Mr. Birkbeck, remonstrating 
 with that Gentleman on the numerous delusions, con 
 tained in his two publications, entitled " Notes on a 
 Journey in America" and "Letters from Illinois" . 520 
 Postscript, being the detail of an experiment made in the 
 
 cultivation of the Ruta Baga 594 
 
 Second Postscript, a Refutation of Fearon's Falsehoods . 598 
 

 . 
 
 
 . 
 
 
439 
 
 DEDICATION -wtnA -[ 
 To TIMOTHY BROWN, ESQ. 
 
 OF PECKHAM LODGE, SURREY. 
 
 North Hempstead, 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 in 
 duced 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 inhabited globe. Here they can 
 not sell blood: they can only collect informa 
 tion and calumniate the people of both coun 
 tries. These vermin our friend firks out (as 
 the Hampshire people call it); and they hate 
 him as rats hate a terrier. 
 
440 DEDICATION. 
 
 Amongst his other labours, he has perform 
 ed a very laborious journey to the Western 
 Countries, and has been as far as the Colony of 
 our friend BIRR BECK. This journey has pro 
 duced a JOURNAL ; and this Journal, along 
 with the rest of the volume, 1 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 Eng 
 lishmen flogged, in the heart of England, under 
 a guard 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 core of my heart ; and when J act as 
 if J 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. 
 
441 
 
 PREFACE TO PART III. 
 
 / i 
 
 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 point 
 ed attention of all those Englishmen, who, hav 
 ing something 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. I could not go to the Western Coun 
 tries ; 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." There 
 fore, when MR. HULME proposed to make a 
 Western Tour, I was very much pleased, see 
 ing that, of all the men I knew, he was the 
 
442 PREFACE TO PART III. 
 
 most likely to bring us back an impartial ac 
 count of what he should see. His great know 
 ledge of farming as well as of manufacturing af 
 fairs ; his capacity of estimating local advan 
 tages 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 perse 
 verance with which he pursues all his inqui 
 ries ; the urbanity of his manners, which opens 
 to him all the sources of information : his inflex 
 ible 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 I 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 peru 
 sal of Englishmen ; and, therefore, he must not 
 be surprised if he find a little bickering in a 
 group so much of a family cast. 
 
 WM. COBBETT. 
 
 North Hempstead, 
 1QM December, 1818. 
 

 YEAR'S RESIDENCE, 
 
 - 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL, 
 
 Philadelphia, 30th Sept. 1818. 
 
 853. IT seems necessary, by way of Intro 
 duction 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, 1 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 gene 
 rally about 40 apprentices. By this business, 
 pursued with incessant application, I had ac- 
 
 2K 
 
444 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 quired, 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 suffi 
 cient 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 
 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 pen 
 sioned Lords and Ladies, Soldiers to shoot at 
 us, Parsons to persecute us, and Fundholders, 
 who had lent their money to be applied to pur 
 poses of enslaving us. This view of the matter 
 was sufficient to induce the father of nine child 
 ren 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 pro 
 ducing my emigration to America. 
 
, -tNTRODUCTIO-N TO THE JOURNAL. 445 
 
 856. In the year 1811 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 hor 
 rid system FLETCHER of Bolton was one of the 
 principal actors, or, rather, organizers and pro 
 moters. At this time I endeavoured to detect 
 the machinations of these dealers in human 
 blood ; and, 1 narrowly escaped being sacrificed 
 myself on the testimony of two men, who had 
 their pardon offered them on condition of thei 
 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 counteract the 
 works of FLETCHER and his associates. The 
 DOCTOR published a pamphlet on the subject, 
 in 1812, which every Englishman should read. 
 1, as far as 1 was able, co-operated with him. 
 We went to London, laid the real facts before 
 several members of the two houses of Parlia- 
 
 2 K 2 
 
446 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 ment; and, in some degree, checked the pro 
 gress of the dealers in blood. I had an inter 
 view with Lord Holland, and told him, that, if 
 he would pledge himself to cause the secret- 
 service money to be kept in London, 1 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 1 
 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 despis 
 ed for their meanness and ignorance. I saw, in 
 them, a mass of debauched and worthless beings, 
 having at their command an army to compel the 
 oeople to surrender to them the fruits of their 
 industry; and, in addition, a body existing un 
 der the garb of religion, almost as despicable in 
 point of character, and still more malignant. 
 
 85). I could not have died in peace, leaving 
 my children the slaves of such a set of beings; 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 447 
 
 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 nu 
 merous 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, 1 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 govern 
 ment 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 cheerful 
 ness 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 citi 
 zens. I saw no placemen and pensioners, riding 
 the people under foot. I saw no greedy Priest 
 hood, fattening on the fruits of labour in which 
 they had never participated, and which fruits 
 
448 INf RODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 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, 1 return 
 ed 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 Ame 
 rica 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 free- 
 " dom 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 
 CARTTVRIGHT. 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. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 449 
 
 In the meeting of Delegates, I thought we went 
 too far in reposing confidence in 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 CART- 
 \v RIGHT opened a letter from SIR FRANCIS, 
 which had come from Leicestershire. I thought 
 the kind-hearted old Major would have dropped 
 upon the floor ! 1 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 iny part, I was not much disap 
 pointed. 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 country 
 men will finally destroy the tyrants who oppress 
 them ; but, I am very sure, that, before they 
 
450 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 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 effect 
 ing a Reform. 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 compelled 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, 1 made preparations for 
 the departure of myself and family, and when 
 all was ready, I bid an everlasting adieu to Bo- 
 roughmongers, Sinecure placemen and place- 
 women, pensioned Lords and Ladies, Standing 
 Armies in time of peace, and (rejoice, oh ! my 
 children !) to a hireling, tithe-devouring Priest 
 hood. 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 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 offspring protection from the tyrants of my na 
 tive country. There J should have been in 
 constant anxiety about my family. Here I am 
 in none at all. Here I am in fear of no spies, 
 no false ivitnesses, 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. 
 
 864. In the year 1816 my travelling in Ame 
 rica 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, 1 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 
 
452 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 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, studiefd 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 ac 
 quire I have endeavoured to communicate to 
 others. It was not my object to give flowery 
 descriptions. 1 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 ana perfectly impartial in my 
 feelings, and am, therefore, likely to be impar 
 tial in my words. My good wishes extend to 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 453 
 
 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 Ma 
 nufacture; 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 encouragement and promotion 
 would be greatly beneficial to America, and 
 because it would provide a happy Asylum for 
 my native oppressed and distressed country 
 men, 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 plun 
 der and despotism at home, and all over the 
 world. 
 
 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 
 
454 INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 
 
 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, and 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 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL. 455 
 
 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 So 
 ciety. 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. 
 

 THE JOURNAL. 
 
 
 872. PITTSBURGH, June 3. Arrived 
 here with a friend as travelling companion, by 
 the mail stage from Philadelphia, after a jour 
 ney 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 proprietors ; the road excel 
 lent: smooth as the smoothest in England, and 
 hard as, those made by the cruel corvies 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. Chambersburgh 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 457 
 
 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 T 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 capi 
 tal old English horses, overcome every thing. 
 We were rather singularly fortunate in not 
 breaking down or upsetting ; T 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, how 
 ever, 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, wilfe very little 
 appearance of uneven-ness or of barrenness all 
 the way to Pittsburgh; the evidence of good 
 
458 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 land in the crops, and the country beautified by 
 a various mixture of woods and fields. 
 
 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, how 
 ever, 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 ! I am sorry to say 1 observed 
 (or, rather, felt,} this too often. Always good 
 eating and drinking, but not always good 
 sleeping. 
 
 874. June 4th and 5th. Took a view of 
 Pittsburgh. It is situated between the mouths 
 of the rivers Allegany and Monongahela, 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. Bake well, to whom we were intro 
 duced by letter, and who very obligingly satis 
 fied our curiosity to see every thing of impor 
 tance. 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 
 
PART III.] . JOURNAL. 459 
 
 side of a steep bill, 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 expecta 
 tions, 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 taken advantage of by skilful and 
 industrious artizans and mechanics from all 
 parts of the world. There is scarcely a deno 
 mination 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 sorts, 
 which 1 examined with the most attention, are 
 admirable. 
 
 876. Price of flour, from 4 to 5 dollars a 
 barrel; butter, 14 cents per Ib. ; other provi 
 sions in proportion and mechanic's and good 
 labourer's wages 1 dollar, arid ship-builder's 
 1 dollar and a half, a day. 
 
 877. June 6th. Leave Pittsburgh, and set 
 out in a thing called an ark, which we buy for 
 
 2 L 
 
460 JOURNAL. [PART 111. 
 
 the purpose, down the Ohio. We have, be 
 sides, 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, espe 
 cially 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 
 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 
 tiling 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 dif 
 ferent directions in its course, for about 200 
 miles. There is a curious contrast between the 
 waters which form this river: that of the AJIe- 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 461 
 
 gany is clear and transparent, that of the Mo- 
 nongahela 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, over 
 hanging with fine timber. 
 
 880. June 7th. 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, 1 dollar a day. 
 Fine coals here, and at Steubenville. 
 
 882. June 9th. 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 
 
 2L 2 
 
462 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 which they very cheerfully assist us. Much 
 diverted to see the nimbleness with which they 
 go on shore sometimes 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 [ 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 10th. Pass several fine coal mines> 
 which, like those at Pittsburgh, Steubenville, 
 Wheeling and other places, are not 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 463 
 
 hills on its banks seem to be the separations. 
 Altogether, nothing can be more beautiful. 
 
 885. June llth. 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 fish 
 ing. Fish of this sort will sometimes weigh 
 30 Ibs. each. a pa 
 
 886. June 12^. 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 13th. 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 companion. 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 come 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 
 
464 JOURNAL. [PART HI. 
 
 an action against him, but was cast and had to 
 pay costs. 
 
 888. June 14tk and 15th. 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 plea 
 sure 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 la 
 dies, I have yet come across, thank God, no 
 respectable people. 
 
 889. Cincinnati is a very fine town, and ele 
 gantly (not only in the American acceptation 
 of the word) situated on the banks of the river, 
 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 465 
 
 next to Pittsburgh, of the towns on the Ohio, 
 in point of manufactures. 
 
 890. We sold our ark, and its produce form 
 ed a deduction from 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 ;r 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 more 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 1 6th. Left Cincinnati for Louis 
 ville with seven other persons, in a skiff about 
 20 feet long and 5 feet wide. 
 
 892. June 11 th. Stopped at VEVAY, a very 
 neat and beautiful place, about 70 miles above 
 the falls of the Ohio. Our visit here was prin 
 cipally 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 hav 
 ing 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 
 
46(5 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 there. They plant the vines in rows, attached 
 to stakes like espaliers, and they plough be 
 tween 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 al 
 ways warm, 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 ! 
 
 893. June 18th. Arrived at Lousville, Ken 
 tucky. The town is situated at the commence 
 ment 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 467 
 
 direction at this part, to Shippingport, about 
 2 miles lower down. Perceiving- stagnant wa 
 ters 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, 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 extremi 
 ty 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 im 
 porting are lodged; and is, indeed, a great 
 shipper, though at a thousand miles from the 
 sea. 
 
468 . JOUHNAL, [PART HI. 
 
 896. June 20lh. Left the good and com 
 fortable house of Mr. Berthoud, very much, 
 pleased with him and his amiable wife and fa 
 mily, though [ differed with him a little in po 
 litics. Haying 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, 1 
 could not agree with him in applauding the 
 Boroughmongers of England for re-subjugating 
 the people of France, and restoring the Bour 
 bons, the Pope, and the Inquisition. 
 
 897. Stop at New Albany, 2 miles below 
 Shippingport, till the evening. A Mr. Pax ton, 
 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 2 Is/. Floating down the river, 
 without any thing in particular occurring. 
 
 899. June Z2nd. 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 
 
V 
 
 PART III.] JOURNAL* 469 
 
 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 chil 
 dren, 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 23rd. See great quantities of tur 
 key-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 24th. Left Evansville. This little 
 place is rapidly increasing, and promises to be 
 a town of considerable trade. It is situated at 
 a spot which seems likely to become a port for 
 shipping to Princeton and a pretty large dis 
 trict of Indiana. I find that the land specula 
 tors have made entry of the most eligible 
 
470 JOURNAL. [PART iti. 
 
 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 %5th. Arrived at Princeton, In 
 diana, 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 26th. At Princeton, endeavour 
 ing to purchase horses, as w r e 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 sus 
 pected to be stolen. They told us they had 
 been almost all the way from Albany, to Shaw- 
 nee town after them, a distance of about 150 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 471 
 
 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 1, 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 27th.-~ 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 28A. Left Princeton, and set out 
 to see Mr. Birkbeck'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 un 
 der it all, and we waded through it as well as 
 
472 JOURNAL, [PART in. 
 
 we could. It is, in fact, nothing but a bed of 
 very soft and rich land, and only wants drain 
 ing to be made productive. We soon after came 
 to the banks of the great Wabash, which is 
 here about half a mile broad, and as the ferry 
 boat was crossing over with us I amused myself 
 by washing my dirty boots. Before we mounted 
 again we happened 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 vei'y 
 simple draining to carry off the water all the 
 year round. Our horses were very much tor 
 mented 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 ar 
 rived there about sun-set, and met with a wel 
 come which amply repaid us for our day's toil. 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 473 
 
 We found that gentleman with his two sons 
 perfectly healthy and in high spirits : his daugh 
 ters were at Henderson (a town in Kentucky, 
 on the Ohio) on a visit. At present his habita 
 tion 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 shel 
 ter 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 child 
 ren and their children's children of what their 
 ancestor has done for their sake. 
 
 908. Few settlers had as yet joined Mr. Birk- 
 beck ; 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 W abash ; 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 
 
474 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 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 prepara 
 tions. He had done nothing in the cultivating 
 way but make a good garden, which supplies 
 him with the only things that he cannot pur 
 chase, and, at present, perhaps, with more eco 
 nomy than he could grow them. He is within 
 twenty miles of Harmony, in Indiana, where 
 he gets his flour and all 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 grow 
 ing, before he grows them, than to get the crops 
 first. I have heard it observed that any Ameri 
 can settler, even without a dollar in his pocket, 
 would have had something growing 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 sum 
 mering upon wild iiesh (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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 475 
 
 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 1 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 answer* 
 
476 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 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 Ken 
 tucky, and by some parts of Pennsylvania. Some 
 of these, however, he may yet find. Good wa 
 ter he has, at any rate. He showed me a well 
 25 feet deep, bored partly through hard sub 
 stances near the bottom, that was nearly over 
 flowing with water of excellent quality. 
 
 912. July 1st. Left Mr. Birkbeck's for Har 
 mony, 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 
 \ve 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 con 
 duct 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 mis 
 take 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 477 
 
 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 com 
 field ; rode round it, and came to Johnson's 
 Ferry, a place where a Bayou (Boyau) 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 wet, 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 tim 
 ber ; we thanked him, and pushed on our horses 
 with eager curiosity to see this far-famed Har 
 monist Society. 
 
 2 M 2 
 
47S JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 9J3. Oil 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 beau 
 tiful corn to be at once convinced of all I had 
 heard of the industry of this society .of Ger 
 mans, and 1 found, on proceeding a little far 
 ther, that the progress they had made exceeded 
 all my idea of it. 
 
 014. 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 pro 
 bably, the climate here is more favourable. Hav 
 ing refreshed ourselves at the Tavern, where we 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 479 
 
 found every thing we wanted for ourselves and 
 our horses, and all very clean and nice, besides 
 many goo>d things we did not expect, such as 
 beer, porter, and even wine, all made within the 
 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 per 
 formance, 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 Meet 
 ing, except that there was not a single little 
 child in the place. Here they were kept by 
 
480 JOURNAL. [PART ni* 
 
 their Pastor a couple of hours, after which 
 they returned home to bed. This is the quan 
 tum 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 arid dis 
 creet, whom the Pastor selects as a sort of as 
 sistants 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 all their dungeons 
 and gags. 
 
 917. Jtily 3Lnd. Early in the morning, took a 
 look at the manufacturing establishment, accom 
 panied by our Tavern-keeper. 1 find great at 
 tention 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 ma- 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 
 
 chine 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 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 Wurtemberg 
 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 Reli- 
 " gion ; and, finding no toleration for his in- 
 " spired doctrines, or for those who adopted 
 " them, he determined with his followers to go 
 
48$ JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 " to that part of the earth where they were 
 ' free to worship God according to the dictates 
 64 of their conscience." In other words (I sup 
 pose), he had long- beheld and experienced the 
 slavery and misery of his country, and, feeling 
 ia his conscience that he was born more for a 
 ruler than for a slave, found himself imperiously 
 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 num 
 ber of proselytes, amounting to seven or eight 
 hundred persons, among whom were a suf 
 ficiency 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL, 
 
 the discontent that might arise from want and 
 fatigue in traversing it at once. When they 
 were all arrived, Rapp constituted them into 
 one body, having every thing in common, and 
 called the settlement Harmony. This consti 
 tution 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 asso 
 ciated, 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 re 
 duced 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 substance 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 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 
 
484 JOURNAL. [PART in- 
 
 during the time of their greatest labours. How 
 ever, 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 
 ami 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 warehouses for their several species of 
 goods ; constructed distilleries, mills for grind 
 ing, 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 Philadel 
 phia goods to the country, and nearly 100 
 good dwelling-houses of wood, a large stone-' 
 biiilt tavern, and, as a proof of superabun 
 dance, 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 485 
 
 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 ever- 
 lastingly-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 ? 
 But, 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 spi 
 ritual affairs are managed in the same way, and 
 upon the same principles, only both are more 
 flourishing. Rapp has here brought his disci 
 ples 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 say, 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 interrup 
 tion from other classes of Christians is effec 
 tually guarded against by an endless barricado 
 of \yoods on the other side. Bringing the means 
 
 * A more detailed account of this society, up to the year 
 I, will be found in Mi;. Mellish's Travels, vol. 2, 
 
4#6 JOURNAL. [ PART "! 
 
 and experience acquired at their first establish 
 ment, they have of course gone on improving 
 and increasing (not in population) at a much 
 greater rate. One of their greatest improve 
 ments, 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 consump 
 tion, and to retail to the people of the country. 
 I believe they advance, too, in the way of orna 
 ments and superfluities, for the dwelling-house 
 they have now built their pastor, more resem 
 bles 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 manu 
 facturing establishment, and the mercantile 
 affairs and public accounts are all managed by 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 487 
 
 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 cer 
 tain 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 im 
 material, 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 com 
 bined : this congregation of far-seeing, ingenious, 
 crafty, and bold, and of ignorant, simple, su 
 perstitious, and obedient, Germans, has shown 
 what may be done. But, their example, 1 be 
 lieve, 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 ridi 
 cule 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 
 
488 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 of their religious creed (" restraining clause" a 
 Chancery Lawyer would call it) requires re 
 strictions on the propagation of the species ; it 
 orders such regulations as are necessary to 
 prevent children coming but once in a cer 
 tain 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 sta- 
 " tute" 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 number within, 
 while more are sure not to come in from with 
 out ; and, 1 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 Harmonites, 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 489 
 
 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 incor 
 porated 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 3rd. At Princeton all day. This 
 is a pretty considerable 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 manufactures to do for them. Pay 
 
490 JOURNAL. [PART m. 
 
 1 dollar for a set of old shoes to my horse, half 
 the price of new ones. 
 
 025. July 4th. 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 pos 
 session 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 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', 
 a good tavern ; 35 miles. On our way, pass 
 French Lick, a strong spring of water impreg 
 nated with salt and sulphur, and called Lick 
 from its being resorted to by cattle for the salt; 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 491 
 
 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 
 bein roosted upon lately by an enormous mul 
 titude of pigeons. A novel sight for us, unac 
 customed to the abundance of the back-woods! 
 No tavern but this, nor house of any descrip 
 tion, 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 hor 
 ses ; 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 
 
 2N 
 
492 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 " has so long perplexed philosophers, divines 
 " and physicians, is now set at rest!" She pro 
 ceeded to vent her rage with great vehemence 
 against hireling priests and the trade of preach 
 ing 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 everlast 
 ing 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 Ken 
 tucky 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 9th. Dine at Mr. Overton's ta 
 vern, on our way to Frankfort; pay half a 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 493 
 
 dollar each for an excellent dinner, with as 
 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 overtaken 
 by two ladies on horse-back, and have their 
 agreeabje company for a mile or two. On 
 their turning off from our road we were very 
 reluctantly obliged to refuse an obliging invita 
 tion 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 gentleman 
 from my own native town of Bolton, in Lanca 
 shire. 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 Frankfort, ap 
 parently a thriving town, on the side of the 
 rough Kentucky 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 govern 
 ments 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 
 
 2N 2 
 
494 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 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 Wth. Leave Frankfort, and come 
 through a district of fine land, very well wa 
 tered, 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 residence, situated 
 near the centre of a very fine farm, which is 
 just cleared and is coming into excellent culti 
 vation. I approve of Mr. Clay's method very 
 much, especially in laying down pasture. He 
 clears away all the brush or underwood, leav* 
 ing 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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 495 
 
 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 Boroughmongers ! God grant that 
 no privileged batch ever rise up in America, 
 for then down come the mechanics, are har 
 nessed themselves, and half ridden to death. 
 
 932. July llth. 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, and 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, how 
 ever, 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 
 
\ 
 
 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 his face equal to a London Alderman. The 
 people here are pretty generally like that por-v 
 tion of the people of England who get porridge 
 enough to eat; stout, fat, and ruddy, 
 
 933. July I2tk. Hotter than yesterday ; 
 thermometer at 91 degrees. 
 
 934. July 13th. Leave Lexington ; stop at 
 Paris, 22 miles. A fine country all the way ; 
 good soil, plenty of limestone and no musqui- 
 toes. 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, how 
 ever, 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. Timber-lake'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 work 
 manship and articles of consumption, as they 
 are here at present. 
 
PART III.] 
 
 JOURNAL, 
 
 497 
 
 Journeymen saddlers' price 
 for drawing on men's sad 
 dles 
 
 Dolls. 
 *1 
 
 Cents. 
 
 25 to 
 
 Dolls. 
 
 2 
 
 Cent* 
 
 50 
 
 Journeymen blacksmiths, 
 per day ... 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 25 
 
 per month. 
 
 25 
 
 
 30 
 
 
 Journeymen hatters (casters) 
 Ditto Torutn 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 25 
 
 
 
 Ditto for finishing, per month 
 and found 
 
 30 
 
 
 
 
 
 Journeymen shoe-makers 
 (coarse) ...... 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 
 Ditto fine . . . . 
 
 1 
 
 25 
 
 
 
 Ditto, for boots . . . 
 Journeymen tailors, by the 
 coat ....... 
 
 3 
 5 
 
 25 
 
 - 
 
 
 Stone-masons or bricklay 
 ers, per day .... 
 Carpenters, per day, arid 
 found 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 . - 
 
 1 
 
 50 
 
 Salary for a clerk, per an 
 num 
 
 200 
 
 
 500 
 
 
 Beef, per 100 Ibs. . . . 
 Flour, per barrel . . . . 
 
 6 
 6 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 936. July 14/A. Hot again; 90 degrees. 
 
 * Or, 5* 7|d. to Us 3d. sterling. At the present rate of 
 exchange, a dollar is equivalent to 4s. 6d. sterling, and a cent 
 is the hundredth part of a dollar. 
 
498 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 Arrive at Blue Licks, close by the fine Lick 
 ing 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 Scots 
 man ; 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. 
 
 037. July \5tk. To Maysville, or Lime 
 stone, 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 Ame 
 rica. 
 
 938. July Wth.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 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 409 
 
 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, 
 6k cents, and butter 20 cents per Ib. 
 
 939. July llth. 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. 
 
 940. July 18^. Come to Chillicothe, the 
 country improving and more even as we pro 
 ceed. See some very rich lands on passing 
 Paint Creek, and on approaching the Scioto 
 river; these, like all the bottom lands, having 
 
500 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 a coat of sediment from their river in addition 
 to the original 'soil, are by far the richest. 
 Chillicothe is a handsome town, regularly laid 
 out, but, stands upon a flat. 1 hate the very 
 sight of a level street, unless there be every 
 thing necessary tQ carry off all filth and water. 
 The air is very fine, so far as it is not contami 
 nated 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 Wth. 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. 
 
 942. July 20th. 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 Go 
 vernor pointed out 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, 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 501 
 
 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 manu 
 factures, and was glad to find he is well con 
 vinced of the necessity of, or at least of the 
 great benefit that would result from, the gene 
 ral establishment of them in the United States. 
 He has frequently recommended it in his public 
 capacity, he informed me, and I hope he will ad 
 vocate 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 go 
 vernment of England, and, of course, it has 
 his full share of hatred. 
 
 944. July %\st. Leave Chillicothe. A fine, 
 healthy country and very rich land all the way 
 to New Lancaster, 34 miles from Chillicothe, 
 and 38 from Zanesville. 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. 
 
502 JOURNAL. [PART m. 
 
 945. Nothing remarkable, that I can see, as 
 to the locality of this town of New Lancaster ; 
 but, the name, alas ! it brought to my recol 
 lection the horrid deeds done at Old Lancaster, 
 the county town of my native county! 1 
 
 thought of Colonel F r, and his conduct 
 
 towards my poor, unfortunate townsman, Gal 
 lant ! 1 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 mon 
 sters! 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 1 am in safety from the fangs of the 
 monsters, who oppress and grind my country 
 men. The thought of these oppressions, how- 
 eve^ I carry about with me; and I cannot help 
 its sometimes bursting forth into words. 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 503 
 
 946. July 22nd. Arrive 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 1 2 feet, where it is 600 feet wide ; the 
 creek, too, falls in by a fine cascade. What 
 a power for machinery ! 1 should think that as 
 much effect might be produced by the power 
 here afforded as by the united manual labour 
 of all the inhabitants of the state. The naviga 
 tion 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 
 
 * For a more particular account of this place, as well, in 
 deed, as of most of the other towns I have visited, see Mr. 
 Mellish's Travels, vol. ii. 
 
504 JOURNAL. [PART m 
 
 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 
 1 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 peo 
 ple of Ohio to keep their flour at home, instead 
 of exporting it, at their own expence, to sup 
 port those abroad who are industrious enough 
 to send them back coats, knives, and cups and 
 saucers. 
 
 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. 
 
 949. July 24^. 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 foun 
 dery, 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. 
 
PART III.] 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 505 
 
 Flour (superfine), per barrel 
 
 of 196 Ibs. from ... 
 Beef, per 100 Ibs. . . . 
 
 Pork (prime), per 100 Ibs. 
 Salt, per bushel of 50 Ibs. 
 Potatoes, per bushel . . 
 Turnips, ditto ....... 
 
 Wheat, do. of 60 Ibs. to 66 
 
 Ibs 
 
 Indian Corn, ditto, shelled 
 
 Oats, ditto 
 
 Rye, ditto 
 
 Barley ditto , 
 
 Turkeys, of from 12 Ibs. to 
 
 20 Ibs. each 
 
 Fowls 
 
 Live Hogs, per 100 Ibs. live 
 
 weight 
 
 Cows (the best) .... 
 Yoke of Oxen, ditto . . 
 
 Sheep 
 
 Hay, per ton, delivered 
 Straw, fetch it and have it. 
 Manure, ditto, ditto. 
 Coals, per bushel, delivered 
 Butter, per Ib. avoirdupois 
 Cheese, ditto, ditto . . . 
 
 Loaf Sugar 
 
 Raw ditto 
 
 Dolls. 
 
 Cents. 
 
 Dolls 
 
 5 
 
 .to 
 
 5 
 
 4 
 
 . 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 50 - 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 25 
 
 
 . 
 
 25 - 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 
 . 
 
 75 
 
 
 . 
 
 33f- 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 25 - 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 50 
 
 
 ; 
 
 75 
 
 
 3 
 
 12^ 
 
 5 
 
 18 
 
 . 
 
 25 
 
 50 
 
 . 
 
 75 
 
 2 
 
 50 
 
 
 9 
 
 . - 
 
 10 
 
 
 8 
 
 
 - 
 
 121- 
 
 
 
 : 
 
 50 
 
 
 
 
 31} 
 
 
506 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 [PART in. 
 
 Domestic Raw ditto . . 
 
 Dolls. 
 
 Cents. 
 
 181 
 
 Dolts. 
 
 Merino Woo], per Ib. avoir 
 dupois, washed . . . 
 Three-quarter Merino ditto 
 Common Wool .... 
 
 1 
 
 75 
 50 
 
 
 Bricks, per 1000, delivered 
 Lime, per bushel, ditto . . 
 Sand, in abundance on the 
 
 6 
 
 . to 
 181 
 
 7 
 
 banks of the river. 
 
 
 
 
 Glass is sold in boxes, con 
 
 
 
 
 taining 100 square feet; 
 of the common size there 
 
 
 
 
 are 180 panes in a box, 
 when the price is . . 
 The price rises in propor 
 tion to the size of the 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 
 panes. 
 Oak planks, J inch thick, 
 per 100 square feet, at 
 the saw-mill 
 
 1 
 
 50 
 
 
 Poplar, the same. 
 White Lead, per 100 Ibs. 
 delivered 
 
 17 
 
 
 
 Red ditto 
 
 17 
 
 
 
 Litharge ....... 
 
 15 
 
 
 
 Pig Lead 
 
 9 
 
 50 
 
 
 Swedish Iron (the best, in 
 bars) 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 Juniatta, ditto, ditto . . . 
 
 14 
 
 t 
 
 
 Ceutft. 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL 
 
 Mr. Dillon's ditto, ditto . 
 Castings at Mr. Dillon's 
 Foundery, per ton . . 
 Ditto, for machinery, ditto, 
 per Ib 
 
 Dolls. 
 
 12 
 
 120 
 
 Cents 
 
 50 
 8 
 
 Do.ll 
 
 507 
 
 Cento. 
 
 Potash, per ton .... 
 Pearl Ashes, ditto . . . 
 Stone masons and brick 
 layers, per day, and 
 board and lodging . . 
 Plasterers, by the square 
 yard, they finding them 
 selves in board and lodg 
 ing and in lime, sand, 
 laths and everything they 
 use ....... 
 
 180 
 200 
 
 50 
 
 
 
 Carpenters, by the day, who 
 find themselves and bring 
 their tools 
 
 1 
 
 25 
 
 
 
 Blacksmiths, by the month, 
 and found in board, lodg 
 ing and tools . . . uoi 
 Millwrights, per day, find 
 ing themselves .... 
 
 30 
 i 
 
 . to 
 
 40 
 n 
 
 - 
 
 Tailors, per week, finding 
 themselves and working 
 14 or 15 hours a day . *r,.<-S 
 Shoemakers, the same. 
 2 o 
 
 7 
 
 . - 
 
 A 
 
 9 
 
 
508 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 [PART in, 
 
 4 to 
 
 100 
 
 10 
 
 J20 
 
 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 Bal 
 timore to Zanesville . . 
 Ditto for ditto by steam 
 boat from New Orleans to 
 Shippingport, and thence 
 by boats, to Zanesville, 
 
 about 
 
 Peaches, as fine as can 
 grow, per bushel j. 4'^ 
 
 Apples and Pears proportionably cheaper; some 
 times given away, in the country. 
 
 Dolls, Cents Dolls. Cents. 
 
 50 
 
 Prices are much about the same at 
 Steubenville ; if any difference, rather lower. 
 If bought in a quantity, some of the arti 
 cles 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. 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 509 
 
 952. July 25tfA. Leave Zanesville for Pitts- 
 burg, keeping to the United States road ; stop 
 at Cambridge, 25 miles. During the first eight 
 miles we met 10 waggons, loaded with emi 
 grants. 
 
 953. July zetk. Stop at Mr. Broadshaw's, a 
 very good house on the road, 25 miles from Cam 
 bridge. This general government 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 dis 
 tance (though I think it would that, too), if a 
 view had been had to the labour of travelling 
 over these everlasting unevennesses. 
 
 954. July 27th. 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 him 
 self and his whole family. A dreadful catas 
 trophe, but, certainly, one not out of the man's 
 power to have foreseen and prevented ; it sur 
 prizes me that the people will stick up their 
 houses so near the water's edge. Cross Wheel 
 ing 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. 
 
 2o2 
 
 - 
 
510 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 955. July 28th. Went with a Mr. Graham, 
 a Quaker of this 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 gra 
 vel 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 like 
 wise 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, 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 511 
 
 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 la 
 bour. Here is a country for the ingenious pau 
 pers 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 Bo- 
 roughmongers brought out again; when they 
 were in the height of their impudence their 
 myrmidons used to din in our ears, " Old Eng- 
 " land 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 be 
 ware, lest something worse than the Red Sea 
 overwhelm them! Like Pharaoh and his Bo- 
 roughmongers 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 Wheel 
 ing, which is to go, they say, 1800 miles up the 
 Missouri river. The wheels are made to work 
 
512 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 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 sug 
 gest a plan which has occurred to me, arid 
 which, 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 bot 
 tom 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 plank partition, and put a 
 spur to the upright post. The partition should 
 be water-tight. I would then load the fore 
 part of the boat, thus partitioned off, with lum 
 ber 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 ap- 
 
 * Trees tumbled head-long and fixed in the river, 
 t The same as a planter, only waving up and down. 
 
PART HI.] JOURNAL. 513 
 
 pears to me that the other part would be se 
 cured against all intrusion. 
 
 957. July 29^. -From Wheeling, through 
 Charlston, changing sides of the river again to 
 Steubenviile. My eyes were delighted at Charls 
 ton 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 Steubenviile, 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; 1 am sorry 
 they do not retail them at Philadelphia; 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. Wil 
 son, the editor of the Steubenviile 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 
 
514 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 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 1 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 ac 
 customed to it on the Atlantic side, or in Eng 
 land, will not be totally disappointed. 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 according 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' daugh 
 ters and sons from 20 miles round, an English 
 man (particularly if a young one) might very 
 well think his travels to be all a dream, and that 
 he was still in a Boroughmonger country. Al 
 most 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 
 prejtty sight, but, to see the dollars thus danced 
 out of the country into the hands of the Bo 
 roughmongers, to the tune of national airs, is a 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 515 
 
 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 30th. From Steubenville, crossing 
 the Ohio for the last time, and travelling through 
 a slip of Virginia and a handsome part of Penn 
 sylvania, to Pittsburgh. 
 
 961. August 1st. 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- w r orks on Great Lever, 
 near Bolton, in Lancashire. 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, f recommended him to ob 
 serve the latter part of the good Quaker Lady's 
 sermon which we heard at New Albany. 
 
 963. August 3rd. 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 
 
516 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 country. Take the same route and the same 
 stage as on setting out from Philadelphia. 
 
 964. August 4^, bth, and 6th. These three 
 days traversing the romantic Allegany Moun 
 tains ; 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 Chambers- 
 burgh, the beginning of a fine country. 
 
 965. August 7th. Travelled over the fine lime 
 stone 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. Huhne had got from the English Govern 
 ment, for the invention of some machine, and 
 that now, having got rich under their patronage, 
 he was going about this country doing the said 
 Government all the mischief he could, and en 
 deavouring to promote the interests of this 
 country. After letting him go on till I was 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 517 
 
 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 go* 
 " vernment ; all he has got he has gained by 
 " his own industry and economy, and, so far 
 " from receiving a fortune from that vile go- 
 " vernment, 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 8fA.Return to Philadelphia, 
 after a journey of 72 days. My expences for 
 this journey, including every thing, not except 
 ing the loss sustained by the purchase and sale 
 of my horse, amount to 270 dollars and 70 
 cents. 
 
518 JOURNAL. [PART in. 
 
 967. As it is now about a twelvemonth since 
 I have been settled in Philadelphia, or set fool 
 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, in 
 clusive. Dolls . cents. 
 
 House-rent . '&&*- .U 1 ^ O 1 ^*. 600 
 
 Fuel. . 137 
 
 Schooling (at day-schools) 
 for my children viz.; for Dolls . 
 Thomas, 14 years of age 40 
 Peter and John, ages of 
 
 12 and 10, 48 
 
 Sarah, 6 years of age, . 18106 
 
 Boarding of all my family at Mrs. 
 Anthony's Hotel for about a 
 week, on our arrival ... 80 
 
 Expences of house-keeping (my 
 family fourteen in number, in 
 cluding two servants) with 
 every other out-going not enu 
 merated above, travelling, inci 
 dents, two newspapers a day, 
 &c.&c. . .- 2076 66 
 
 Taxes, not a cent 
 
 Priest, not a cent 00 
 
 Total 2999 66 
 
PART III.] JOURNAL. 519 
 
 968. " What! 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 denomi 
 nation who 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 1 do, it 
 certainly shall be a Society having a Chairman 
 in place of a Parson, md 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 Par 
 son ? 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 OP THE JOURNAL. 
 
520 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 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 im 
 position 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 enthusiastic 
 minds, when bent on grand territorial acquisi 
 tions. 
 
 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 521 
 
 my opinion, calculated to produce great disap 
 pointment, 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, calculated to 
 deceive and decoy. You do indeed describe 
 difficulties and hardships : but, then, you over- 
 come them all with so much ease and gaiety, 
 that you make them disregarded by your Eng 
 lish 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 hardships 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 cross 
 ings of the rivers ; but, there are the beautiful 
 meadows and rich lands at last; there is the 
 
522 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 fine freehold domain at the end! There are the 
 giants and the enchanters to encounter; the 
 slashings and the rib-roastings 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 ten 
 dency 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 1 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 con 
 viction 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 Eng 
 lish Farmers possessing each two or three 
 thousand pounds sterling. And, before we 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 
 
 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! 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, 1 
 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 ac 
 quaintances, of contracted sphere of movement, 
 do not, to use Mr. GEORGE FLOWER'S expres 
 sion, " 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 ar 
 dently wished you success. 
 
 975. It is nothing, my dear Sir, to say, as you 
 do, in the Preface to the Letters from the Illi 
 nois, that, " as little would I encourage the- 
 
524 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 " 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 
 f< an elastic spirit, or to be borne, if incurable, 
 " with cheerful patience. But the peevish emi- 
 " grant is perpetually comparing the comforts 
 4f he has quitted, but never could enjoy, with 
 " the privations of his new allotment. He over- 
 u looks 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 as- 
 " sociates, 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, con 
 sidering who were the objects of the censure. 
 Nor do you appear to me to afford, in this in 
 stance, 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 wail- 
 
It!.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 25 
 
 . ' <' H 
 
 ings 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 consciousness 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 hun 
 dred, 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 circulat 
 ing 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 con 
 solation. As they now are, their change is, and 
 must be, for the worse; and, as to the future, 
 besides the uncertainty attendant, every where, 
 on that which is to come, they ought.. to be ex- 
 
526 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 cused, 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 impossible for any man 
 of tolerable information to believe, that the pre 
 sent tyranny of the seat-owners can last another 
 two years. 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 emi 
 gration of many is said to be, that they think a 
 convulsion inevitable. Why should such per 
 sons 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 in 
 stead 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 527 
 
 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 acknowledge, that Eng 
 land " 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 poli- 
 " tics." I may ask you, by the way, what noble 
 institutions she has, which are not of apolitical 
 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 1 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 wo 
 men and children through scenes of hardship 
 
528 LETTER W (PART in. 
 
 and distress not easily described, and that too, 
 to live like gipsies at the end of their journey, 
 for, at }east, 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 comfort of 
 an American back-woods-man to overcome? 
 Why should they do this? The undertaking is 
 hardly reconeileable to reason in aa Atlantic 
 American Farmer who has half a dozen sons, 
 all brought up to use the axe, the saw, the 
 chisel and the hamrner from their infancy, and 
 every one of whom is ploughman, carpenter, 
 wheelwright and butcher, and can work from 
 sun-rise 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, mor 
 tals? 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 
 Telations 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKfeECK, ESQ. 529 
 
 American farmer mends his plough, his wag 
 gon, 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 re 
 lations 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 complain 
 ings and upbraidings; and every unhappiness will 
 be traced directly to him who has been, however 
 unintentionally, the cause of the unhappy per 
 son's removal. The very foundation of your 
 plan necessarily contained the seeds of discon 
 tent and ill-will. A colony all from the same 
 country was the very worst project that could 
 have been fallen upon. You took upon your 
 self 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 my asking 
 
530 $a5 <-;: LETTER TO 'm [PART in/ 
 
 what you .were going to do in that wild conn- 
 try, 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 num- 
 'Vber." But, perhaps, I was wrong: for AARON 
 was of great assistance to the leader of the Is 
 raelites. 
 
 982. As if the inevitable effects of disappoint 
 ment 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 disagreement, there is but one single in 
 stance 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 ban 
 tering. I am quite serious. It is impossible 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 531 
 
 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 al 
 ways 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 celi 
 bacy, 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 breed 
 ing and rearing of children, and, second, unre* 
 mitted 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 
 
534 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 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 cow 
 slips ! Oh, God ! What delusion ! And that a 
 man of sense; a man of superior understanding 
 and talent ; a man of honesty, honour, huma 
 nity, 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 ex 
 tensive. 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 535 
 
 settlers that I particularly knew were Connec 
 ticut men. Men with families of sons. Men 
 able to do as much in a day at the works neces 
 sary 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 be 
 fore you will see such beautiful Corn-fields as 
 I saw there. Yet nothing but the danger and 
 disgrace which attended their return to Con 
 necticut 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 go 
 vernment which required neither tax nor service 
 from them ; they were as happy as people could 
 be as to 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 sau 
 sages and sweet-meats, 'by wheel-barrow loads ; 
 
534 LETTER TO '[PART III. 
 
 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 cow 
 slips ! Oh, God ! What delusion ! And that a 
 man of sense; a man of superior understanding 
 and talent; a man of honesty, honour, huma 
 nity, 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 ex 
 tensive. 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 535 
 
 settlers that I particularly knew were Connec 
 ticut men. Men with families of sons. Men 
 able to, do as much in a day at the works neces 
 sary 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 be 
 fore you will see such beautiful Corn-fields as 
 I saw there. Yet nothing but the danger and 
 disgrace which attended their return to Con 
 necticut 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 go 
 vernment which required neither tax nor service 
 from them; they were as happy as people could 
 be as to 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 sau 
 sages and sweet-meats, 'by wheel-barrow loads ; 
 
536 LETTER TO [PART 111. 
 
 for, though \ve were by no means shy, their 
 hospitality 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 Far 
 mer's family in the Illinois ? 
 
 087, 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 youi* 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 no 
 body to envy you any thing that yon tnight 
 acquire. Where you would find society as 
 food, in all respects, as that which you had 
 left behind you. Where you would find neigh 
 bours ready prepared for you fer more generous 
 and hospitable than those in England eah be f 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 537 
 
 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 Montgomery Coun- 
 " ty ; 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 neigh- 
 " bours as good and as cordial as those that 
 " you leave in England." 
 
 088. 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 overflowing with abundance ; comfort, 
 ease, and, if you chose, elegance, would hare 
 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 American* 
 have no mutton fit to eat, and regard it only as* 
 & thing fit for dogs. In this island every farmer 
 
538 LETTER TO [PART Ilk 
 
 has sheep. I kill fatter lamb than 1 ever saw 
 in England, and the fattest mutton I ever saw, 
 was in company with Mr. Harline, in Philadel 
 phia 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 Jive 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 
 suppose, that this farm is worth three hundred 
 dollars an acre: that is, forty-five thousand 
 dollars ; or about, tivelve or thirteen thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 991. Now, then, let us take a look at your* 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKtiECK, ESQ. 539 1 
 
 ,. 
 
 estimate of the expences of sitting down in the 
 prairies. 
 
 Copy from my Memorandum Hook. 
 
 992. Estimate of money required for the com 
 fortable establishment 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: DoU ar S . 
 
 Second instalment, August, 1819, 720 
 Third ditto ,* ? V*;. August, 1820, 720 
 Fourth ditto . . August, 1821, 720 
 
 2,160 
 
 Dwelling-house and appurtenances . . 4,500 
 Other buildings . . * '^mq.l . . 1,500 
 4680 rods of fencing, viz. 3400 on the 
 prairie, and 1280 round the wood 
 land 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 implements . . v~^P ! '. v ; . . . 270 
 Housekeeping untit the land supplies 
 
 us l [ -^ ..... 1,000 
 
 .ibiihj-.-tep -fciv, s 
 
 Carried over . .. 13,100 
 2 Q 
 
540 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 Dollars. 
 
 Brought over . . . .13,100 
 Shepherd one year's wages, herdsmen 
 
 one year, and sundry other labourers 1,000 
 One cabinet-maker, one wheei-wright, 
 one year, making furniture and imple 
 ments, 300 dollars each . ;f ^^ ^/ 
 Sundry articles of furniture, ironmon 
 gery, pottery, glass, &c. . . I *.-:* v'> 
 
 Sundries, fruit trees, &c 100 
 
 First instalment already paid ^11^ ,tr S 7 ^0 
 Five horses on hand, worth .*v^s-Wi^ 300 
 Expence of freight and carriage of linen, 
 
 bedding, books, clothing, &c . . . 1,000 
 Value of articles brought from England 4,500 
 Voyage and journey . . . .^^ 
 
 Doll. 23,820 
 
 23,820 dollars = 5,359 sterling. 
 Allow about 600 dollars more 
 for seed and corn . >. 
 
 o5,500 
 
 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 541 
 
 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 corne 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 per 
 son to cross the Atlantic states in search of 
 2Q 2 
 
542 *' LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 safety, tranquillity aiid gain in the Illinois, is, 
 to my rnind, little short of madness. Yet, to 
 this mad enterprize is he allured by your cap 
 tivating 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 de 
 ceit upon yourself, and then upon others. All 
 the disadvantages you state; but, then, you ac 
 company the statement by telling us how quick 
 ly and how easily they will be overcome. Salt, 
 Mr. HULME finds, even at ZANESVILLE, at two 
 dollars and a half a bushel 7 - but, you tell us, 
 that it soon will be at three quarters of a dollar. 
 And thus it goes all through. 
 
 995. 1 am happy, however, that you have 
 given us figures in your account of what an 
 English farmer may do ivith 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 emi 
 grated to the West in search of fine estates. 
 They, able workmen, exemplary livers, have re 
 turned to labour in their native States amongst 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 543 
 
 '*&?%/ : *;%;; i 
 
 their relations and old neighbours; but, what are 
 our poor ruined countrymen to do, when they 
 become pennyless ? If I could root my coun 
 try from my heart, common humanity would 
 urge me to make an humble attempt to dissi 
 pate the charming delusions, which have, with 
 out 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 un 
 derstanding and integrity. 
 
 996. The statement, to which I allude, stands 
 as follows, in your tenth Letter from the Illi 
 nois. 
 
 997. A capital of 2000Z. sterling, (8,889 dol 
 lars,) may be invested on a section of such land, 
 in the following manner, viz. Dollars. 
 Purchase of the land, 640 acres, at 2 
 
 dollars per acre . . . . . . c *l <H 1280 
 
 House and buildings, exceedingly con 
 venient and comfortable, may be built 
 for .vfli^igi^ 1500 
 
 A rail fence round the woods, JOOO rods, 
 
 at 25 cents per rod . t s\ r S iJ . . 250 
 
 About 1800 rods of ditch and bank, to 
 
 divide the arable land into 10 fields . 600 
 
 Planting 1800 rods of live fence . . . 150 
 
 Carried over 3780 
 
544 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 Dollars. 
 
 Brought over . . . 3780 
 Fruit trees for orchard, &c. & jh-^&lisf ivix 100 
 Horses and other live stock . . ;. " . 1500 
 
 Implements and furniture 1000 
 
 Provision for one year, and sundry inci 
 dental charges . . ... . ,. . 1000 
 
 Sundry articles of linen, books, apparel, 
 implements, &c. brought from Eng 
 land 1000 
 
 Carriage of ditto, suppose 2000 Ibs. at 10 
 
 dollars per cwt. . . ^i-'i *-*% .... . 200 
 Voyage and travelling expences of one 
 person, suppose i^r ;^^i 309 
 
 8889 
 
 Note. The first instalment on the 
 land is 320 dollars, therefore 960 dol 
 lars of the purchase money remain in 
 hand to be applied to the expences of 
 cultivation, in addition to the sums above 
 stated. 
 
 Expenditure of fast Year. 
 
 Breaking up 100 acres, 2 dollars per 
 
 acre 200 
 
 Indian corn for seed, 5 barrels, (a barrel 
 is five bushels) 10 
 
 Planting ditto 25 
 
 Carried over . 235 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 545 
 
 Dollars. 
 
 Brought over . ". 235 
 
 Horse-hoeing ditto, one dollar per acre . 100 
 
 Harvesting ditto, l dollar per acre . . 150 
 Ploughing the same land for wheat, 1 
 
 dollar per acre . ? -.. ." '"'.**' V -^ : /.?;i .' 100 
 
 Seed wheat, sowing and harrowing . ./ 175 
 
 Incidental expences .... r ... 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 
 la^bie^t^ .Wi^pM \ 
 
 Expenditure of second Year. 
 Breaking up 100 acres for Indian corn, 
 
 with expences on that crop . . . . 485 
 Harvesting and threshing wheat, 100 
 
 acres . . r%^ ?ito^{k;if ^ 350 
 Ploughing 100 acres for wheat, seed, &c. 275 
 Incidents * 5 , 290 
 
 Produce of second Year. 1400 
 
 100 acres Indian corn, 10 bar 
 rels per acre, 2 dollars per 
 barrel 2000 
 
 100 acres wheat, 20 bushels per 
 acre, 75 dollars per barrel . . 15003500 
 
 Net produce 2100 
 
346 .033 >: LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 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 '. v , > .' . . . . 100 
 
 *OI1 ' W < ''-T' ""' ''*L ' ' 
 
 Horse hoeing, harvesting, &c. ditto ' v, f 285 
 Harvesting and threshing 1 00 acres wheat 350 
 Dung-carting 100 acres for wheat, after 
 
 second crop of Indian corn . ^,grj^ 200 
 Ploughing 200 acres wheat, seed, &COTH 1 v 550 
 Incidents .V t L >r, . , , , ? ,. k ;; 330 
 
 00 \\.-to* 
 
 Produce of third Year. 
 
 200 acres of Indian corn, 10 bar 
 rels per arre, 2 dollars per bar 
 
 rel .- .^ : ;.- vr^P^iflS- 80 ." 4000 
 100 acres wheat, 20 bushels per 
 
 acre, 75 dollars per barrel . . 1500 5500 
 
 { 'gaki^u- 
 17^;. Net produce 3200 
 
 Expenditure of fourth Year, 
 
 As the third .-^ P 1 . < f Q oc > '*$>& ,,, a ?1 ;)fi 2SOO 
 Harvesting and threshing 100 acres morb 
 
 wheat . ... . . . ;; v^H:^" 350 
 
 Additional incidents . l^. . . 50 
 
 &1K . ? \ViiLJ _ 
 
 2700 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 547 
 
 *& I m^ ^*&&i 
 
 Produce of fourth Year. Dollars. 
 200 acres Indian corn, as above . 4000 
 200 acres wheat ...... 3000-^-7000 
 
 ' i <'l } ; '. Ml i 
 
 Net produce 4300 
 Summary. 
 
 
 EXPENCES. PRODUCE. 
 
 First year 
 Second ..; 
 Third . n',, 
 
 Dollars. 
 
 K>*fc4>; * 100 / ^ 
 
 ,V S .*,.U 140Q . ^ 
 ,v (H *^,.-. 2300 - <i 
 
 Dollars. 
 
 2000 
 3500 
 5500 ;i g^|| 
 7000 
 
 Fourth v . 
 
 \\';u^i r >T l i;/^700 . ; -)i, 
 
 18000 
 House-keeping and 
 
 other expences for 
 
 four years I 1 M 4000 ^1,400 
 
 Net proceeds per annum ^ i .^? v :. ( -7 9 7^1650 
 Increasing value of land by cultivation 
 
 and settlements, half a dollar per ann. 
 
 on 640 acres 1 .^ ^r "I 1 x f f ^ iw . *f? ^f? 320 
 
 -- 
 
 Annual clear profit 1970 
 
 998. " Twenty more: kill J em! Twenty 
 " more: kill them too!*' No: t will not com 
 pare 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 
 
548 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 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 demerits. 
 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, if 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 ^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-house 
 ought to be, will, if it be thirty-six feet front, 
 thirty-fourfeet 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. Why, a Long 
 Island carpenter, and the house to be built 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 549 
 
 within 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 
 shingles 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, 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 cow 
 slips, 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 prac 
 tice 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 
 
550 LETTER TO [PART 
 
 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. 
 
 1001. Thus, then, the question is settled that 
 building must be cheaper here than in the Illi 
 nois. 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 \>e farm-buildings and a//, in the 
 1500 dollars' worth! A barn, 40 feet by 30, 
 with floor, and with stables in the sides, cannot 
 be /built for J 500 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! 
 
 1002. Now, you know, my dear Sir, that this 
 is said in the face of all America. Farmers are 
 my readers. They all understand these mat 
 ters. They are not only good, but impartial 
 judges; and J call upon you to contradict, or 
 even question, my statements, if you can. 
 
 1003. Do my eyes deceive me? Or do I really 
 *ee one hundred and fifty dollars put down as 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 551 
 
 the ex pence 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? 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 au 
 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 
 
552 LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 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 admira 
 tion of the Edinburgh Reviewers, whose know 
 ledge 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 tramp 
 ing away towards an imaginary, across a real 
 land of milk and honey, I cannot lay down the 
 pen, till 1 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 ex 
 pand, as it were, to correspond with the extent 
 of the horijzon 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; no marking; and only a horse- 
 hoeing, during the summer, at a dollar an acre. 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 553 
 
 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 hun 
 dred 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 in 
 comings. However, here are four hundred 
 dollars. 
 
 1007. In goes the plough for wheat? "In 
 " him again ! Twenty more !" But, this is in Oc 
 tober, mind. Is the Corn off? It maybe; but, 
 where are the four hundred waggon 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 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 
 
554 LETTER TO [p ART I II. 
 
 men and twenty horses may husk the Corn, cut 
 and cart the stalks, plough and so wand harrow 
 for the wheat; twenty two-legged and twenty 
 four-legged animals may do the work in the pro 
 per 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 accord 
 ing 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 dol 
 lars 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 1 500 dollars ! But, the third year, our poor 
 simpleton is to have 200 acres of corn ! " Twenty 
 "more: kill 'emt" Another 570 dollars for 
 Cribs ! 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 555 
 
 J010. However, crops now come tumbling 
 on him so fast, that he must struggle hard not to 
 be stifled with his own superabundance. 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 cop 
 pice \t\ stalks, will, with the dunging for the 
 wheat, require, at \e&$t, 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 ex 
 ample of patience, so worthy of imitation, and 
 so seldom imitated. 
 
 1011. 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, 
 aad make RAPP march at their head, for, never 
 
 2 R 
 
556 '~.CB3 , LETTER TO [PART III. 
 
 will he by any other means get in the crop ; 
 and, even then, if he pay fair wages, he will 
 lose by it. 
 
 1012. After the crop is in and the seed sown, 
 in the fall, what is to become of Simpleton's 
 men till Com 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 ad 
 vising others to bring labourers from England, 
 one would think you, for your own part, able, 
 liHe CADMUS, to make men start up out of the 
 earth. How would one ever have thought it 
 ppssible for infatuation like this to seize hold of 
 a mind like yours ? * 
 
 1013. When I read in your Illinois Letters, 
 tb&t you had prepa/ted horses, ploughs, and 
 other things, for putting in a hundred acres of 
 Corn in the Springy 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, in 
 stead of 'fifty \ upon an acre. I saw your confu 
 sion, and participated in your mortification. 
 
^ 
 
 ^RT* 111.}' MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 
 
 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 
 groiving ! 
 
 1014. Thus it is to reckon one's chickens be 
 fore they are hatched : and thus the Transalle- 
 ganian dream vanishes. You have been de 
 ceived. A warm heart, a lively imagination, 
 and I know not what caprice about republi 
 canism, have led you into sanguine expectations 
 and wrong conclusions. Come, now ! 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 can- 
 dtuir, I can, however, hardly hope wholly to 
 escape your anger for having so decidedly con 
 demned your publications ; but, I do hope, that 
 you will not be so unjust as to impute my con 
 duct to any base self-interested motive. I have 
 nd private interest, [ can have no such interest 
 in endeavouring to check the mad torrent to 
 wards the West. I own nothing in these States, 
 and never shall ; and whether English Farmers 
 pufcn on into misery and ruin, or stop herein 
 happiness and prosperity, to irie ? as far as private 
 
 2R2 
 
558 LETTER II. TO [PART Hi- 
 
 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 surpassed by those of no nation in the 
 world ; her wise, j ust, and merciful laws form the 
 basis of that freedom which we here enjoy, she has 
 been fertile beyond all rivalship in men of learn 
 ing 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 benevo 
 lence : 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 
 commons. 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 
 
T m 
 
 PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 559 
 
 people, I would gladly see the whole fabric torn 
 to atoms, and trust to chance for something bet 
 ter, 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 oppres 
 sion; 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 mo 
 tive. 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 
 
 
 
 LETTER ii. TO [PART m. 
 
 MORRIS BIRKBEGK, ESQ. 
 
 OF ENGLISH PRAIRIE, ILLINOIS TERRITORY. 
 
 ' 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 North Hempstead, Long Island* 
 1 5th Dec. 18 IS. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 T016. BEING, wt^n I wrote my former Letter 
 to you, in great haste to conclude, in order that 
 my son William might take i( 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 faith 
 fully; 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- 
 
PART III.J MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 
 
 cumstances. The settlers, who have gone from 
 the New England States, have, in general, been 
 able men with families of stout sons. The con 
 tracted 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 Yan 
 kees? But, mind, 1 talk of a, family of Yan 
 kee sons ; and, besides, I have no scruple to say, 
 that one of these will do as much work in the 
 clearing and fencing of a farm, and in the erec 
 tion of buildings, as four or Jive 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 I ham seen new set 
 tlements formed. 1 have seen lands cleared. I 
 have seen crowds of people coming and squat 
 ting down in woods or little islands, and by the 
 sides of rivers. 1 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 
 
562 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 were just &$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 be 
 lieve, that, after your statement about your in 
 tended 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, if 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 groiv ! 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 shew 
 ing that Corn is not much more than one third 
 of our price, how monstrous, if you gain at all, 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 563 
 
 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, in 
 deed, 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 
 [sland 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'can- 
 not last long ; and, accordingly, I see, that you 
 mean to dung for wheat 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 bear 
 ing crops without a manure, or, with new-cul 
 ture and constant ploughing, is a romance. 
 This I told you in London ; and this you have 
 found to be true. 
 
 1020. It is of little consequence what wild 
 schemes are formed 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 
 
LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 pounds, appears to me to admit of no other 
 apology than an unequivocal acknowledgment, 
 that the inviter is mad. Yet yonrjfifteentk Let 
 ter from the Illinois really contains such an in 
 vitation. This letter is manifestly addressed to 
 an imaginary person. It is clear that the cor 
 respondent 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 liberty to in 
 sert the whole of this letter; and will then en 
 deavour to show the misery which it is calcu 
 lated to produce, not only amongst English 
 people, but amongst Americans who may 
 chance to read it, and who are now living hap 
 pily in the Atlantic States. The letter is dated, 
 24th of February, 1818, and the following are 
 its words : 
 
 1021. " Dear Sir, When a man gives atlvice 
 " to his friends, on affairs of great importance 
 " to their interest, he takes on himself a load of 
 ** responsibility, from which I have always 
 " shrunk, and generally withdrawn. My ex- 
 "ample is very much at their service, either for 
 " imitation or warning, as the case may be. 1 
 * ' must, however, in writing to you, step a little 
 u over this line of caution, having more than 
 " once been instrumental in helping you, not 
 "<m# of your difficulties, but from one scene of 
 
PART ni,j MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 505 
 
 *' 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 
 " pf your prospects: if things have turned out 
 " better, 1 shall be rejoiced to hear it, and you 
 44 will not need the Advice 1 am preparing for 
 44 you. But, if vexation and disappointments 
 " 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 
 44 think that will be the most delightful sensa- 
 " tioii you ever experienced ; for, you will re- 
 " ceive it multiplied, as it were, by the number 
 44 of your family as your troubles now are* It 
 "is not, however, a sort of independence that 
 44 will excuse you from labour, or afford you 
 44 many luxuries, that is, costly luxuries. I 
 44 will state to you what I have learned, from, a 
 " good deal of observation and inquiry, and a 
 44 little experience; then you will form your 
 44 own judgment. In the first place> the voyag;e. 
 li That will cost you, t$ Baltimore or Philadel- 
 
566 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 " phia, provided you take it, as no doubt you 
 " would, in the cheapest way, twelve guineas 
 " each, for a birth, fire, and water, for yourself 
 f and wife, and half price, or less, for your 
 " children, besides provisions, which you will 
 " furnish. Then the journey. Over the moun- 
 " tains to Pittsburgh, down the Ohio to Shaw- 
 '" nee 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 de- 
 " pendence 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 en- 
 " ter 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 your pains with the means of dis- 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBEGK, ESQ. 567 
 
 " charging the other three-fourths as they be- 
 " come 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 ex- 
 " penses, will require the remaining two hund- 
 " red and ten dollars. This beginning, humble 
 " as it appears, is affluence and splendour, com- 
 " pared with the original outfit of settlers in 
 " general. Yet no man remains in poverty, who 
 " possesses even moderate industry and eco- 
 " nomy, 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. 
 u 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 
 
t? f R H. TO 
 
 " your arrival. Change of climate and situa- 
 " tion 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, 
 " provided 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. r 
 
 1 022. 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 la 
 bourers. The words " Dear Sir " indicate that 
 you are speaking to a friend, or, at least, to an 
 intimate acquaintance; 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 
 vifarifter! 
 
 1 023^ 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. 
 
PART III,] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 569 
 
 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? They are to have built for 50 
 dollars a house " EXTREMELY COM- 
 " PORTABLE 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 ga 
 ther 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 cor- 
 " ners, 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 logs, stands like a bastion at one end; 
 " the roof is well covered with four hundred 
 " ' 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 pro- 
 " perly, the ' through, 9 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 
 
570 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 " dollars. 1 have since added ten dollars to the 
 " cost, for the luxury of a floor arid ceiling of 
 " sawn boards, and it is now a comfortable ha- 
 " bitation." 
 
 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 
 u 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 convenient 
 " and comfortable " hole ! And yet, my dear 
 Sir, you find fault of the want of cleanliness in 
 the Americans! You have not seen "tAe Ame- 
 " ricans" You have not seen the nice, clean, 
 neat houses of the farmers in this Island, in 
 New England, in the Quaker counties of Penn 
 sylvania. You have seen nothing but the 
 smoke-dried Ultra-montanians ; and your pro 
 ject seems to be to make the deluded English 
 who may follow you rivals in the attainment of 
 the tawny colour. What is this family to do 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 571 
 
 in their 50 dollar den? 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 evert 
 a bedstead, and with 130 dollars gone in land 
 and h ou se. 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 hdrses 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 had 
 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 esc- 
 pences. 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 m 
 
 2 s 
 
572 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 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 repub 
 licans have a washing tub? Perhaps, indeed, 
 it will become unnecessary in a short time ; for, 
 the lice will have eaten up the linen; and, be 
 sides, 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 ar 
 rive 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 ! 
 110 ! Grass and Acorns and Roots ; and, God 
 be praisedj you have plenty of water in your 
 wells, though, perhaps, the family, with all 
 their " independence" must be compelled to 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 573 
 
 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 repro 
 bation, 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 Eng 
 land. And I most solemnly declare, that I 
 would sooner live the life of a gypsy in Eng^- 
 land, 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 1 could buy a good 
 form 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 time, seen more than 
 you had seen, when you wrote your " Letters 
 " from the Illinois." You would not, 1 am 
 convinced, write such letters now. Butj lest 
 you should not do it, it is right that somebody 
 should counteract their delusive effects; .and 
 and this I endeavour to do as much for the sake 
 
 2s 2 
 
LETTER II. TO DM |>ART III. 
 
 of this country as for that of my own country 
 men. For a good while I remained silent, 
 hoping that few 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 mad 
 ness, 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; IJuLME visited you with the most 
 friendly feelings. He agrees with you perfectly 
 as to notions about forms of government. He 
 ivished to give a good account of your proceed 
 ings. 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 far 
 mers. 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 mar 
 kets: they have them all here. What should 
 
PAtfT III.] MORRIS BIRKBKCK, ESQ. 575 
 
 they run rambling about a nation-making for ? 
 What have they to do about extending domi 
 nion 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 in 
 formed 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 Edin 
 burgh Reviewers, a set of the meanest poli 
 ticians that ever touched pen arid paper. Upon 
 any great question, they never have been 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 not 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 
 
LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 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 pro 
 duce 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 Mis 
 sissippi 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 attach 
 ment to your adopted country, and I am sure 
 you are sincere; but, still I may be allowed to 
 doubt, whether you would cheerfully wear 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 577 
 
 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 At 
 lantic People to feel little eagerness in promot 
 ing 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, 1 think it would have 
 been good policy in the Congress not to dis 
 pose 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, 1 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 whatever 
 will save his bones labour. The water, the 
 
578 LETTER II. TO [PART III* 
 
 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, in 
 deed, 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 inva 
 luable 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 consi 
 deration, 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 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BTRKBECK, ESQ. 579 
 
 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 obliged 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 re 
 solved 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. I 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 hon\e. I was 
 never bothered with sending to the mill. My 
 ears were never after dinned with complaints 
 about bad flour and heavy bread. It was the 
 prettiest, most convenient, and most valuable 
 
580 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 thing I had upon my farm. It was, 1 think, 
 put up in 1816, and this was one of the plea 
 sures, from Which the Borough-villains (God 
 confound them !) drove me in 1817. I think it 
 cost me about a hundred pounds. I forget, 
 whether 1 had sold any flour from it to the 
 Bakers. But, independent of that, it was very 
 valuable. I think we ground and dressed 
 about forty bushels of wheat in a day ; and, we 
 used to 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 convenience. 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, we sometimes got bad Jlour 
 from good wheat ; an accident that never hap 
 pened 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 gentle 
 man, a farmer born and bred, who rents my 
 farm in my absence, sells no wheat; that he 
 
PART III.] MORRIS B1RKBECK, ESQ. 581 
 
 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 si 
 tuated in the midst of mills. So that, you may 
 be sure, that the thing answers, or it would 
 not be carried on. If it were not attended with 
 gam, 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 forscite; it occupies a 
 very small space; it is independent 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 con 
 venient than a windmill. A windmill is neces 
 sarily 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. 
 
582 LETTER II. TO [PAfcT 
 
 My project is merely a neat, close barn, stand 
 ing 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. 
 *1 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 1 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, however, 
 ould 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 farmer in a 
 large way, I would soon 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. 1 shall be glad if this piece of informa 
 tion should be of use to any body, and particu- 
 
PART HI.} MORRIS BTRKBECK, ESQ. 585 
 
 larly 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 in 
 formation about the construction. I know 
 there was a hopper and stones, and that the 
 thjng made a clinking noise like the water-mills. 
 1 know that the whole affair occupied but a 
 small space. My 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 writr 
 ing, 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 sti 
 pulating 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 bar 
 gain he very faithfully fulfilled. The price 
 was I think severity 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 conveni 
 ently, in one pf; my waggons. 
 
584 LETTER II, TO [PART III. 
 
 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 barns and other out-houses 
 with shingles 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 in 
 conveniences 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 
 
PART III J MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 585 
 
 work ! Let me digress here, for a moment, to 
 ask you if you have got a sow-spay er? We have 
 no such man here. What a loss arises from 
 this ! What 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 Eng 
 land. Any clown of a fellow follows this call 
 ing, which is hardly two degrees above rat- 
 catching and mole-catching: and yet there is 
 no such person here, where swine are so numer 
 ous, and where so many millions are fatted for 
 exportation! It is very strange. 
 
 1042. To return to the thatching: Straw id 
 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 
 
08<3 LETTER II. TO [PART III, 
 
 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 ge 
 nerally 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 ap 
 plicability of this plant to garden-uses i 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 
 cari buy as good a broom at New York for 
 eight pence sterling as you can buy in London 
 tor five shillings sterling, and the freight cannot 
 exceed two-pence or three-pence, if sent with 
 out handles. I bought a clothes-brush, an 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 587 
 
 English clothes-brush, the other day for three 
 shillings sterling. It was made of a farthings 
 worth of alder wood and of half a farthings 
 worth of Broom-Corn. An excellent brush. 
 Better than bristles. 1 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 would not. But, if well 
 managed, it would produce a prodigious crop 
 of materials for reed-hedges and thatch. It is of 
 a substance (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 Surry, or Kent, or Hampshire, a man might 
 raise upon an acre a crop worth several hundred 
 pounds. The very stout stalks, if properly har 
 vested and applied, would last nearly as long 
 as the best hurdle rods. What beautiful screens 
 they would make in gardens and pleasure 
 
 2 T 
 
588 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 grounds ! Ten feet long, and straight as a gun 
 stick ! I shall send some of the seed to Eng 
 land this year, and cause a trial to be made ; 
 and I will, in my Gardening Book, give full in 
 structions 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 re 
 pay this country for the protection which it has 
 given me against our indemnified tyrants. "Cob- 
 " bett'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 forgotten, or 
 only remembered when my " trash" shall. 
 
 1044. This is a rambling sort of Letter. 1 
 now come back to the Broom-Corn for thatch. 
 Sow it in roivs about five feet asunder; or, ra 
 ther, on ridges, a foot wide at the top, with an 
 interval of jive 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 sum 
 mer. This will make the plants grow tall, 
 while their closeness to each other will make 
 them small in thickness of stem or stalk. It 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 589 
 
 will bring them to about the thickness of fine 
 large reeds in England, and to about twice the 
 length ; and, 1 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 1 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 
 convenient 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, 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 Bo 
 rough-villains would tax it, as their rapacious 
 system does EVEN THE SEEDS OF 
 TREES ; yet, a small quantity of seed would 
 suffice. 
 
 2x2 
 
590 LETTER II. TO [PART III* 
 
 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 gar 
 dens, 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, [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 ; arid, 
 if it fall short of that, it will certainly surpass 
 reeds for thatching and screening purposes, for 
 sheep-yards, and for various other uses. How 
 ever, 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. 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 591 
 
 1046. I am happy to tell you, that Ellenbo- 
 roug/t and Gibbs have retired! Ill health is 
 the pretence. I never yet knew ill health in 
 duce such fellows to loosen their grasp of the 
 public purse. But, be it so : then I feel plea 
 sure on that account. To all the other pangs 
 of body and mind let them add that of know 
 ing, 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 resentment 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 re 
 dress for oppression : it is, in short, to pass a 
 sentence of never-ending slavery on all man 
 kind. Some Local Militia men ; young fellows 
 
592 LETTER II. TO [PART III. 
 
 who had been compelled to become soldiers, 
 and who had no knowledge of military disci 
 pline ; who had, by the Act of Parliament, been 
 promised a guinea each before they marched ; 
 who had refused to march because the guinea 
 had not been wholly paid them; some of these 
 young men, these mere boys, had, for this mu 
 tiny, as it was called, been flogged at Ely in 
 Cambridgeshire, under a guard of German 
 bayonets and sabres. At this I expressed my 
 indignation in the strongest terms; and, for doing 
 this, I was put for two years into a jail along 
 with men convicted of unnatural crimes, rob 
 bery, 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 ex 
 pire, bonds for the peace and good behaviour for 
 seven years! The seven years are not yet ex 
 pired. 1 will endeavour to be of " good be- 
 " haviour " for the short space that is to come ; 
 and, 1 am sure, I have behaved well for the 
 past; for never were seven years of such effi 
 cient exertion seen in the life of any individual. 
 1047. The tyrants are hard pushed now. 
 The JBan/c 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 ! 
 
PART III.] MORRIS BIRKBECK, ESQ. 593 
 
 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 car 
 ried on by them. I see they have had Baring, 
 of Loan-notoriety at the Holy Alliance-Con 
 gress. He has been stipulating for a supply of 
 paper-money. They should have got my con 
 sent to let the paper-money remain ; for, / can 
 destroy it whenever I please. All sorts of pro 
 jects are on foot. " Inimitable Notes ;" paying 
 in specie by weight of metal. Oh ! the wond 
 rous 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 will 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. 
 
594 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 ; 
 
 RUTA BAGA; OR, SWEDISH TURNIP. 
 
 To the Editor of the New York Evening Post. 
 
 Hyde Park, Long- Island, 
 3d 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 
 remember, 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, 1 think, 
 convince every one, that I kept, in all my state 
 ments, below the mark. Here we have an 
 average weight of roots of six pounds and a 
 half. 
 
PART III.] POSTSCRIPT. 595 
 
 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 cultiva 
 tion 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 
 Years Residence, which will be published at 
 New York, in a few days, given a very full ac 
 count of this matter. 
 
 I am, Sir, your most humble 
 
 And most obedient servant, 
 
 WM. COBBETT. 
 
 New York, Dec. 30, 1818. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 1052. I TAKE the liberty of sending to you 
 the following experiments 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, 1 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 Mo- 
 reau township, Orange county, was thoroughly 
 
596 POSTSCRIPT. [PART in. 
 
 cleared of stones, and dug up twelve inches 
 deep, on the 10th of June last; it was then co 
 vered by a mixture of ten bushels of charcoal 
 dust and twenty bushels of black swamp mould, 
 which was well harrowed in. About the 9th 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 10th of 
 August. On the 15th of August a table-spoon 
 ful of ashes was put round every turnip, which 
 operation was repeated on the 20th of Septem 
 ber. 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 pene 
 trated about twelve inches into the ground, al 
 though 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 pro 
 duced twenty-Jive bushels of turnips, each turnip 
 weighing from four to nine pounds. This, you 
 
PART III.] POSTSCRIPT. 597 
 
 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. 
 
 William Cobbett, Esq. 
 
 Hyde Park t Long Island. 
 
598 
 
 SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 <f> 
 
 FEARON'S FALSEHOODS. 
 
 To the Editor of the National Advocate. 
 
 Hyde Park, Jan. 9th t 1819. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 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 prepared to send it home as part of a Re 
 gister, of which I send one every week. Your 
 paper enabled rne to make an addition to the 
 article; and, in the few words below, 1 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 ac 
 count of what he calls his visit to me. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 And most humble servant, 
 
 WM.COBBETT. 
 
PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 599 
 
 1057. There is, I am told, one FEARON, \vho 
 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 1 find about him in my journal: 
 " A Mr. FEARON 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 excel- 
 " lent 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 posi- 
 " tion. It came out that he had been with 
 " BUCHANAN, Castlereagh's consul at New 
 " York ; but it is 190 ridiculous ; such a thing 
 
600 SECOND POSTSCRIPT. [PART III. 
 
 " 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 22d August, 1817. I remember that 
 he asked me some very silly questions about 
 the prices of land, cattle, and other things, 
 srhich 1 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 enterprize. 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 dissolute 
 young Englishmen, whose laziness and extra 
 vagance had put them in a state to make them 
 uneasy, and to make them unnoticed by re 
 spectable 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 
 
PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 601 
 
 or their characters ; and how can such a man 
 be a judge of the effects of their institutions, 
 civil, political, or religious? 
 
 1061. I have no doubt, however, that the re- 
 views&nd newspapers, in the pay of the Borough- 
 mongers, 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, who is, by this time, in Lon 
 don, 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. 
 
 1 063. 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 follow 
 ing words : 
 
602 SECOND POSTSCRIPT. [PART III. 
 
 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 awk- 
 " wardness of feeling on my part, calling upon 
 " an entire stranger, produced in my mind feel- 
 " ings of though tfulness and melancholy. I 
 " would fain almost have returned without en- 
 " tering 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 per- 
 " son in her situation; she pressed me to walk 
 " in, being quite certain that I was her country- 
 " man ; and she was so delighted to see an Eng- 
 " lishman, instead of those nasty guessing Yan- 
 " kees. 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 previously 
 " in the occupation of Americans) I was con- 
 
PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 603 
 
 " ducted to a front parlour, which contained 
 " but a single chair and several trunks of sea- 
 " clothes. Mr. Gobbett'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 circum- 
 " stances 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. Hirkbeck's settling in the western coun- 
 " try. This being the first time I had seen this 
 " well-known character, I viewed him with no 
 " ordinary degree of interest. A print by Bar- 
 " tolozzi, 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 prais- 
 
 2 v 
 
604 SECOND POSTSCRIPT. [PART III. 
 
 " ing himself, and evidently believes that he is 
 " eventually destined to be the Atlas of the Bri- 
 " tish nation. His faculty of relating anec- 
 " dotes 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 wo- 
 " man' 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 coun 
 tryman 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, 
 
PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 605 
 
 where he staid till he went away. I had no 
 talk with him. 1 could not know what condi 
 tion 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 tvorJc. 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. 
 
(100 SECOND POSTSCRIPT. [PART III. 
 
 It is large, and very sound and commodious. 
 The avenues of trees before it the most beauti 
 ful 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 ; and not 
 a single draw-back. A hearty, unostentatious 
 welcome from me and my sons. A breakfast 
 such, probably, as the fellow 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 re 
 newing their visits whenever they get but a lit 
 tle encouragement. He, in another part of the 
 extracts that I have seen, complains of the re 
 serve of the American ladies. ; No " social in- 
 " lercourse" he says, between the sexes. That 
 is to say, he could find none ! Ill 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 
 
PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 607 
 
 own acts ; but is it not monstrous to suppose, 
 that 1 should praise myself, and show that I be 
 lieved myself destined to be the Atlas of the 
 British nation, in my conversation of a few mi 
 nutes 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, why 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 fret 
 quarter? The black woman's hut, indeed, he 
 might force himself into with impunity ; six 
 pence 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. 
 

 INDEX TO PART I. 
 
 APPLES exchanged for turnips, March Slst. 
 
 Fall-Pipin, description of, Oct. 7th. 
 
 Buckwheat, time for sowing, July 23rd. Time for cutting, 
 Oct. 6th. 
 
 Barns, very fine in Pennsylvania, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Beans, kidney, green, in market, Oct. llth. 
 
 Board of Agriculture, par. 117. 
 
 Birkbeck, Mr. par. 16, Jan. 21st, Feb. 23rd, March llth. 
 
 Burdett, Sir F. March 12th, par. 98. 
 
 Candles, home made, remarks on, Dec. 25th. 
 
 Climate, May 5th, 1817, to April 24th, 1818. 
 
 Corporations, as law-givers, Feb. 28th. 
 
 Curwen, Mr. par. 68, 69, 121, 123. 
 
 Cartwright, Major, par. 111. 
 
 Cramp/ Mr. par. 117, 132. 
 
 Castlereagh, par. 120. 
 
 Disciples, ears of corn that they plucked, June 3rd. 
 
 Dress whereby to judge of the weather, June 16th, July 
 10th, Sept. 18th 28th, Oct. llth 22nd, Nov. llth, 
 March 21st. 
 
 Dews, equal to showers, July 29th, Jan. 13th. 
 
 England, neatness of its inhabitants, par. 18. Wetness of the 
 climate, July 24th. Population of, shifted, and not aug 
 mented, by the Funding System, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Fences on Long Island, par. 16. 
 
 Flies and musquitoes, bred by filth, June 19th, July 14. 
 
 Fowls ought to be kept warm, Jan. 4th, March 15th. 
 
 Farms, description of, on Long Island, par. 22. 
 
 houses in Pennsylvania, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Fruits, dried, March 31st. 
 
 Flowers, want of, in America, par. 22. 
 
 Fortescue, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Freeman tie, Mr. Nicholas, March 1st. 
 
 Gauntlet, Mr. W., his pigs, par. 101. 
 
 Harvest earlier than in England, par. 19. Description of, 
 July 24th. 
 
INDEX. 609 
 
 Hops grows well in America, Feb. 7th. 
 
 Hedges not found in America, March llth. 
 
 Health, par. 23. 
 
 Hagar, prayer of, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Harrisburg, description of, living at, Jan. 25th 27th. 
 
 Hulme, Mr., Feb. 15th 20th. 
 
 Hinxman, Mr. Richard, March 1st. 
 
 Hardwicke, Lord, par. 119. 
 
 Indian corn described, June 3rd. 
 
 Locusts that John the Baptist lived on, June 3rd. 
 
 Long Island, description of, par. 12 to 15. Its nearness to 
 
 the sea an advantage in summer, June 14th. 
 Lancaster, description of, Jan. 22nd, Feb. 12th 16th. 
 Livingstone, Mr. Chancellor, par. 25, 97. 
 
 Mangel Wurzel, an indifferent root, par. 28. 
 
 Moses, July 24th. 
 
 Maseres, Mr. Baron, Dec. 16th. 
 
 M'Kean, Judge, Jan. 10th. 
 
 M'Allister, Mr., Jan. 28th. 
 
 Malthus, Parson, Feb. 16th. 
 
 New Jersey, in comparison to Pennsylvania, March llth. 
 
 Newbold, Mr., March llth. 
 
 Oliver, the spy, March 2nd. 
 
 Ploughing, principles of, par. 121 to 125. 
 
 Peas, fit to gather June 18th. Ripe in 40 days. Green, in 
 market, Oct. llth. 
 
 Puddings of apple, July 9th, August 23rd. 
 
 Philadelphia, remarks on, Jan. 15lh. 
 
 Paul, James, ? T -. * i n^ i i 
 
 Thomas, j Jan ' I6tb > March 9th ' 
 
 Penn, William, Feb. 16th. 
 
 Pendrill, Mr., March 1st. 
 
 Perry, Mr. James, par. 21. 
 
 Pitt, par. 11 7. 
 
 Quakers, hospitality of, March 10th. Bad gardeners, March 
 llth. 
 
 River Delaware, Jan. 13th, Feb. 20th. 
 
 Susquehannah, Jan. 25th, Feb. 1st. 
 
 Radish, very large, Oct. 28th. 
 
 Ruta Baga, description of the plant, par. 25 to 30. Mode 
 of saving and of preserving the seed, par. 31 to 36. 
 Time of sowing, par. 37 to 44. Quality and prepara 
 tion of the seed, par. 45 to 49. Manner of sowing, par. 
 50 to 55. After-culture, par. 56 to 64. Transplanting, 
 par. 65 to 103. Time and manner of harvesting, par. 104 
 to 114. Quality of the crop, par. 115 to 156. 
 
6JO INDEX* 
 
 Roscoe, Mr., March 26th. 
 
 Rousseau, March 26th. 
 
 Stones, a barometer, August 7th. 
 
 Singing-birds, none in America, par. 22. 
 
 Shoes need never be nailed, March 31st. 
 
 Scavengers substituted by hogs, Feb. 28th. 
 
 Stock, prices of, May 20th, Dec. 15th. 
 
 --- of provisions at breaking up of winter, par. 
 
 Sever ne, Mr., March 1st. 
 
 Stevens, Mr., March 2nd. 
 
 boats, pa, 12. 
 
 Threshing, mode of, July 24th. 
 
 Travelling, author's, March llth to 13th. 
 
 Trenton, laziness of the young men, March 1 1 th. 
 
 Taverns, Slaymaker's, living at, Feb. 12th. 
 
 - charges very reasonable, March llth. 
 
 Taylor, Mr. Antony, March llth. 
 
 Tull, par. 60, 68, 121, 124. 
 
 Vegetation, how vigorous, July 29th. Continues very late, 
 
 Nov. 16th. State of it in April, par. 21. 
 Vere, March 1st. 
 
 Woodcocks, time of coming, July 26th. 
 Western countries, folly of going to, par. 96. The people 
 
 dirty, Jan. 21st. 
 
 Winter of America preferable to that of England, Mar. 31 st. 
 -' ---- does not set in till the ponds are fulL 
 
 Dec. 14th. 
 
 Woods of America, beautiful, par. 15. 
 Woods, Mr., par. 101. 
 Yankee family, migration of, March 12th. 
 Yoke, single, for oxen, (plate of it), par. 124, 
 Young, Arthur, Sept. 9th. par. 117, 118. 
 
 Printed by J. M'Creery, 
 Black-Horse-Court, Fleet-Street, London. 
 
. , 
 
, .