Litchfield enquirer., 1830-10-28


 gret. pastures in many parts of our land overgrown with noxious growth of shrub- bery and weeds which destroy much of the feed. That all vegetables may be subdued by repeatedly cutting them, is position which does not rest on mere theory more than twenty years experience has removed every doubt. The whole success of this business depends upon cutting them at a proper season. If we would destroy the plant, and prevent Its future growth, we must cut it when the root is most exhaust ed. This is just before the fruit ripens.- They should always be cut after the bloss- oming, and just before the seed is ripe e. nough to vegctate.
 Planting Fuit Trees oa the side ef Kills.
 Dodart first observed that trees pushed their branches parallel to the surface of tho earth. If tree stands on a steep, it pushes it's roots towards the declivity but on both sides it still preserves its branches, parallel to the surface. As there is an att traction between the upper surface of the leaves, and light, l am persuaded (though not equally certain from experimeni) that there is an attraction of the same nature between the under surface of the leaves and the surface of the earth. This 1 consider as the cause of the phenomenon.
 had long observed that the most fruit ful orchards, and the most fertile trees, are those planted on a declivity, and the steep CT it is, though not quite a precipice, the more fertile will they prove.
 It is well known that the spreading Of trees always renders them fruitful. On a plain, however, they incline to shoot up- wards; and, therefore, art is called in by skilful gardeners. and applied in various ways to check their perpendicular, and to promote their lateral growth. But this point, which can be only on plain by art, is ob- tained on declivity by nature. There a tree loses its tendency to shoot upwards, and in order to preserve its branches par- allel with the surface, is constrained to put them in lateral direction.
 Hence an important rule in the choice of orchards and gardens,
 Autxmm.-" The melancholy days have comc-thc saddest of the year''-and at the same time the ssCeeteSt. We feel that the days of Autumn are sweet, because they are fesC-the estimation in which a thing is held is in some measure determin- ed by it's quantity. We know that the desolation of winter is at hand-and shud- der, and turn with fondncss to the mild and melancholy scenes still before us, sur- prised at the feetness of time, and deter mined to enjoy what remains. They are also sweet, inasmuch as to grati(y US with the prolusion o: fruition-with their plen- ty and peace-with the gorgeous and mag nifcient, though death-like glory of their forests and fields, and hills and vaIlies.- The bright yellow of the fading leaf, and the pale hue of the fields, sleep in beautiful contrast with the blue streams that flow a. mid them; aud the dreamy mists that stretch around the horizon, seem waiting for the departing glory of the wilderness, as the clouds around that of the setting sun. They arc the saddest, because all that we have loved in nature. and made familiar to our eyes, SO changes and decays. We are surprised that the wilderness is not as green; and we look at the fields, and decay is written there /; at the flowers, and decay has been there; the last leaf has fallen from the "last rOse," and the wind is busy in the orchard. shaking the mellow apples, and in the corn-feld rat- tlias the brittle husks; the vines have been trodden down, and the fat, yellow cucum- bers lay bare and baking in the sun; the bushes are almost leadess, and here and there dry red currant, like an. old man, tells of generation that has passed away.
 f'rOU. Pat.
 The SabbGth.-There is holy calm a.s. :.. .l.o caerod rasf nf Aha Sahhafh