The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1884-03-12

mutton to the square mile to sell than any
other state in the Union" Supposing that
the Messenger has not used "round numbers
for the sake of convenience in this item,
what then? One swallow, or two, or hundred,
do not make the summer. We can give our
contemporary an item relating to real, solid,
practical improvement in Vermont farming
that Is worth dozen instances Of the fancy
COW, sheep or fast-horse kind of prosperity. An
enterprising, Woodworking, keen-witted farmer
among the hills in this county, eight years ago
built model barn at an expense of $4,000.
The produce of his farm would not half fill 1t,
and he was regarded by his neighbors as fit
subject for the lunatic asylum. He went dill
gently and intelligently to work to increase
the productive capacity Of his acres. By dint
of hard work, hard thinking and original in
vestigation, the judicious use of fertilizers and
improved tools and methods, the farm has
turned the tables on the barn. and the neigh
bors have learned that she laughs best who
laughs last" This farmer has bought, some of
them as low rs So an acre, abandoned hill
farms, and now owns some fifteen hundred acres
of land. The older ones of his family Of boys
have been West and have come home to stay.
But these cases are too much like the big
pumpkins and the big squashes at the fairs to
be the occasion of very encouraging view
of the situation" THE WAToHMAN believes
in Vermont, and believes that the instances of
successful farming instead of being the rare
exception should and may be the rule. 1t be-
lieves in propagating the true doctrine of in
tellgent, thinking farming so that the farmers
who went West or became discouraged, and en-
abled our friend to " absorb" their acres at
nominal sum, may be encouraged to stick to
them, may become instructed in the ways Of
skilled and remunerative farming. The "pur-
pose" of THE WATcHMAN, in course of time,
may not be subject of conjecture to our
| single-minded contemporary
| WRITER in the New York Graphic says:
One Of the red-letter days in busy life was
| spent during the early summer of 1873 in sto-
ried Venice and in company with George F.
Edmunds, when the latter proposed to see by
land the city which rises like an architectural
deity from the bosom of the sea. We wan
dered up and down the little narrow Gales that
intersect the city, and wherein the life of the
people is seen 1t was Venice in undress, or at
least in picturesque disorder and little out of
elbows. From the crown of many little bridges
we watched the long, narrow, somber-looking
| gondolas shoot through dull, green waters,
between mossy walls of old paazzos and other
buildings, or listened to the peculiar cry of the
boatmen as they approached or shot around
the corners Of other watery lanes But the
little streets we're delightful. By stretching
out ones arm-at least IL one was as long
armed as the Vermont senator-the walls could
be touched on either side. All the multiform
yet simple life, of an Italian city was seen or
that day. The open cook-shops were one nov
city, especially those in which oil-fried fish
were for sale. The little dingy interior, made
Rembrandtish with the somber blaze of the
charcoal fire, the dishes and utensils unchanged
in form from Pompeian days-all these ant
other things make delightful memory of oul
holiday. And the senator unbent fairly, anC
was as happy as a school-boy. We drank oul
vim ordinaire and ate our macaron and toma
toes at an Italian wine-shop out beyond tht
Grand canal, having crossed the Rialto bridg'
to reach the market and to pass beyond t
where our eyes could take in that wonderful
picture of the Lagoon, with its low lyinl
) islands, whose white structures shone in tn
golden sunshine of the late afternoon. Abov,
us was the blue, intensely blue, sky of the Ad
riatic; before US the long, low swelling stretcl
of waters, greenish near the shore, but passing
beyond into the deepest Of azures; behind u
the lovely, melancholy, musing city, who's
buildings, as dreamy exhalations Of mist
) seemed foam-like to rise from the lips of tn
lazily kissing waters, transformed as they wer
with the first faint crimson of the sunset. Ho,
: beautiful and how still! Nothing disturbed u
as we looked but the murmurous hum Of dron
ing life and the soft swish of the quiet waters
The senator was delightful companion, full c
quaint intimations and touches of scholarl
lore, with quiet by-play Of humor, and eve
broad touches of fun that made the passin
hours full Of charm. How much Italian h
knew this writer cannot say, as he knows mont
but the senator was the cicerone, and manage
) to make the ragged boys scramble for lira, th
beggar women bless US for small gifts, the lane
: lords get our dinner and generally all we me
strived to do as we wished. We did not tai
politics, and said but little about home. I'll
day was wound up in the cleaning by sea-
and coffee al fresco at the cafe Florian in IL
Plaza St. Mark, while the garrison band di
- coursed sweet music and the Italian ladi'
lirted gracefully"