Evansville daily journal. (Evansville, Ind.) 1863-1866, 1865-12-21
NEW YoRK. June Is, 1865.

= wrote 10 the Ereslueuh VI H>ot .9OSACs1
as follows:
New York, June Is, 1865
Dear Sir: / have the honor to &C
knowledge the reesipt of your letter o.
the 18th instant, in which you invited me
10 deliver an address before your excel
ant Agricultural Society ~,
feel fattered, and 7 think / vii
sme.
Perhaps, meanwhile, brief history
{ my experience as an agriculturalisi
ill be acceptable; and as that history
doubt contains sugges tons of value
the entire agricultural community,
concluded to write you through the
~. leo
have been an honest old farmer for
orne four years.
My farm is in the interior of Maine.
Tnfortunatelymy lands are eleven miles
ON the railroad. Elevn miles is quite
distances to haul immense quantities of
heat, corn, rye and OATS but as /
aven't any to haul, | do not, after all,
lffer much on that account.
My farm is more especially a grass
I'm.
- My neighbors told me so at first, and,
an evidence that they were sincere in
cir opinion, they turned their cows in
it the moment went off " lecturing"
These cows are now quite fat. take
ide in those cows, in fact, and am
ID | own grass farm. .g.Tss.
Two years ago / tried sheep raising.
I bought fifty lambs and turned them
5se on my b.oad anS beautiful acres.
1t was pleasant on bright morning to
stroll leisurely out TO the farm in my
dressing gown, WITH Cigar in my mouth,
and watch these innocaEt little lambs, as
they danced gaiIy DER the hillside.
Watching their saucy capers reminded
ne of caper sauce, and i! occurred to lac
aat should have some very fine eating
when they grew up to BE- muttons. e
My gentle shepherd, Mr.. Eli Perkings,
id, We must have some shepherd
gs" E
\ had no very presise idea as to what
epherd dogs were, bat 1 assumed
lher profound LOOK and said:
"We must, Eli, ! spoke to you about
some time agol an
wrote TO my old friend, Mr.. Dexter
Follett, of Boston, for TWO shepherd
nself, but I-thought he knew about
5pherd dogs. He kindly forsook far
,re important business to accommo-
10 me; and the dogs came forthwith.
ley were splendid ereatGres--snuff
1ored, hazeLeyed, long tailed, and
apely jawed. al aema@
We led them proudly to the field. i
t'Turn them in, Eli, said. s-,-
Iii turned them in uI5s 10
hey were in at once, and killed TWEEN
OF my best lambs in about four min
'es and half ma rg EF
" friend had made some trifing mis-.
- IN the breed of those dogs. These
sgs were not partial to eheep.
Eli Perkins was astonished, and OBJ
rived: - sae -si s.ssyas'a a, a18 {
Wall, did you ever r. aSi %
/ certainly never had. ..s -,
There ware pools of blood on the
sreensward, and fragments of wool and
Jaw lamb chops lay round in confused
heaps. Ii aflT
q The dogs would have been sent TO
sostod that night, had they not rather
uddenly died that afternoon of throat
listemper 1t wasn't a swelling of the
hrort. 1t wasn't diptheria. 1t was
iolent opening Of the throat, extending
rom ear to ear.
Thus closed their life stories Thus
ended their interesting tails.
/ failed as a raiser of lambs As a
4heepist | was not success.
Last Summer Mr.. Perkins said, II
ink we'd better cut some grass this
.ason, sir.
We cut some grass.
To me the new mown hay ia very
,weet and nice. The brilliant George
Arnold sings about it, in beautiful verses,
down in Jersey every Summer; so does
the brilliant Aldrich, at portsmouth, N.
Fl. And yet doubt if either of these
men knows the price of load of hay to
- But new moWn hay is really fine
10. 1t is good for man and beast.
fe hired four honest farmers to assist
and led them gaily to the meadows.
was going to NOW myself.
saw the sturdy peasant go round
ere | dipped my flashing scythe
the tall green grass.
Are you resdy2" said E. Perkins.
am heren
Then follow usr'
followed them.
oIIowed them rather too closely, ev-
tl7, for a white haired old man, who
ediately followed Mr. Perkins, called
us to halt Then, in low, firm
e, he said to his son, who was just
ID of me, "John change places with
/ hain't got long to live anyhow.
der burryin' ground will soon have
. old bones, and it's no matter wheth-
m carried there with leg off and
BILE gashed in the other or notl But
John-you are you.
ne old man changed places with his
A calm smile of resignation lit up
Vrinkled face, as he said, Now, sir,
ready"
What mean you, old man2" / said.
I mean that if you continner to
fish that blade as you have been
fishing it, you'll slash h. out OF
of us before we're an hour olderl
mere was some reason mingled with
white-haired old peasants profanity
sas true that / had twice escaped
hing off his sons legs, and his father
-perhaps, naturally alarmed.
went and sat down under a tree
never knew literary man in M
-, overheard the old man say, "tha
va anything"
Y ! Pc rkins was not as valuable to mi
W a. aasoi, as fancied he might have
en-. Every afternoon he disappeared
I'm the field regularly, and remained
lent acme two hours. He said it wa
. ,adache. He inherited it from hi
oother, His mother was often takei
at way, and suffered great deal
AT the end of the two hours Mr.. Pei
kins would reappear with his head neatl
lone up in a large wet rag and say b
r4lt BETTER.
4 One afternoon it so happened that
oon followed the invalid to the hous'
nd as neared the porch, | heared
female voice energetioally observe, ".yo
topI" 1t was the voice of tha hire
Girl, and she added, I'm boiler for MI
Brownr
$50 no, Marcy" heared the invalid
- Perkins, soothingly say; Mr.. Brow
knows I love you. Mr.. Brown approve
of it." g7ea 500 s.
This was pleasant for Mr.. Brown.
peered cautiously through the kitcf