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* * * * *
THE
RURAL MAGAZINE,
AND
LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE.
VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA, _Seventh Month_, 1820. _No. 7._
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
THE VILLAGE TEACHER.
Among the smooth faced urchins that were subject to my little
kingdom about fifteen years ago, was a tall awkward boy, named
Jonathan Gull. Jonathan was the son of an honest hard working
farmer, who lived about two miles from the village, and who had
by dint of frugality, acquired some property, and with it a
proportional degree of consideration in the eyes of his neighbours.
His crops of wheat were generally large, and he made a journey to
the metropolis once a year, to dispose of his grain and produce.
On these occasions his wife and a grown up daughter would usually
accompany him to see the city and to buy cheap goods. It did one's
heart good to witness the return of the honest farmer--the smile of
self-complacency with which he greeted the members of his family,
and the eagerness with which he inquired respecting the farm, Old
Roan, and the young colt, and brindle, the cow, and the litter of
young pigs; and the air of importance which he assumed towards his
neighbours, who thronged around him to hear the latest news-what
Boney was doing--the yellow fever--and the price of wheat. His
hearty greeting of his acquaintance; the animation which sparkled
in his sunburnt face; his short thick set figure, decked out in a
suit of homespun grey, with large brass buttons; his arms a kimbo;
and the broad burst of merriment, that, amidst the discussion of
graver subjects, occasionally broke forth at some sly turn, or
second hand joke of the traveller; altogether formed the beau ideal
of homely rustic happiness, and prosperity. Nor was the greeting and
excitation less on the part of the wife and daughter. As the wagon
was emptied of its load, treasure after treasure met the eyes of the
delighted group of children and neighbours. Here were a new set of
milk pans, and a churn for the dairy; a dozen of pewter spoons, as
smooth and as bright as silver, and scrubbing brushes, and knives
and forks to repair the waste of years. There glittered lots of new
calico, as fine as red and yellow could make them; papers of pins
and needles, and all the sundry articles which complete the stock
of an industrious housewife; while in another place were cautiously
hid, lest they should excite undue envy, the silver teaspoons and
teapot, and the bundles of coffee and tea and white sugar, together
with the tortoise shell combs and gold ear-rings which the good
natured husband had been importuned to buy. Let not the reader
turn away with contempt from this simple picture; the event was an
important one in the family of farmer Gull, and supplied it with a
stock, not only of necessities and luxuries, but of conversation
and pleasure for a full season. But alas! in the train of all this
prosperity and gladness marched the forerunners of decay. Farmer
Gull's heavy purse of shining dollars had won the heart of many a
knight of the counter, and many were the plans laid to obtain a a
closer intimacy with their owner. Here Mrs. Gull was invited to sit
down in the parlour to rest herself; and there was she pressed to
stay to tea. One talked to her about her butter and her cheese, and
another about her rosy faced children. In short, it so happened,
that in the course of a few years, she had at least half a dozen
acquaintances in the shopkeeping line, each of whom were under
engagement to spend a short time during the Dog-days at Melrose;
for so was the farm now styled. With these new acquaintances, new
views and expectations filled the minds of the wife and daughters.
The old family Bible and the Pilgrim's Progress were less frequently
read and quoted; the calico short gowns in which they used to visit
their neighbours of a summer evening gave place to dresses of silk
and white muslin, and their talk was now of the fashions and the new
novels. Among other changes it was determined to make a merchant
of Jonathan, and a place was accordingly engaged for him with the
particular friend of the family, Mr. Seersucker.----I was struck
with the appearance of the lad when he came to bid me good bye
and take his books from school. He was dressed in a suit of tidy
homespun, made up by the hands of his mother and sisters, and which
was, from the sheep that furnished the wool to the thread with which
the garments were sewed, the produce of his father's farm. The good
old fashioned notions of domestic industry were not then extinct.
Our farmers had not then found that it was cheaper to keep a family
of strapping daughters idle at home, and send the wool to one
factory to be carded and spun, and to another to be wove and dyed,
and then to a fop of a tailor to be made up into coats, than to have
the cards, the wheel, and the loom at their own fire-side; giving
wholesome occupation to their family, enlivening the gloomy hours of
winter, and cementing by good humour and mutual assistance the ties
of family and kindred. We had not then found out the grand modern
secret of economy; that it is better to pamper a few inordinate
manufacturing establishments, with all their consequences, of a
degraded and dependant population and high taxes, than to let every
individual pursue his own interests, and to encourage that best
of domestic manufactures where the workshop is the kitchen of the
farmer, and his wife and children the contented and uncorrupted
labourers.
But I find myself perpetually digressing from my story, and must
bid a truce to these rambling thoughts. Jonathan, as I was saying,
was tidily dressed; his hair was combed smooth on his forehead,
and hanging long behind, and the awkwardness of his figure, was
scarcely apparent in the expression of good health and contentment
that animated him. It soon became apparent, however, that citizen
Jonathan would not long be contented with his homely garb. At his
first visit home I observed that he had been in the hands of a
fashionable hair-dresser, who had given him the true Bonapartean
topknot. His shirt collar was stretched up till it half covered
his ears and cheeks, and he sported a clouded and twisted cane,
while the remainder of his dress was yet unchanged. By degrees the
exuvia of the clown fell off, as I have seen a snake in the spring
slowly emerge from the shrivelled skin which she has cast, or as
a locust may sometimes be seen breaking through his faded coat
of mail and sporting in gaudy robes of green and gold; or as you
may observe in the ponds a kind of doubtful animal, half frog and
half tadpole. Jonathan became in a year or two the admiration of
all the neighbouring milk maids, and was universally accounted a
fine gentleman. He had not be sure ciphered further than Practice,
and was but a dull hand, when a boy, at Murray's grammar; but so
wonderfully had a city life sharpened his wits, that his old master
himself was quite in the back ground when Jonathan was present; he
poured forth such a torrent of words and discoursed so fluently
about politics and trade and great men. Then came the days of
delusion and speculation. Jonathan was now of age, and as he had
what was called a good turn for business, and a strong back to
support him, he was solicited to engage in trade. A partnership was
accordingly formed, and "GULL, SNIPE, & Co." glittered in golden
capitals across Market Street. A capital of some thousands was paid
down, while goods to the amount of hundreds of thousands were bought
and sold.
In the meantime farmer Gull was floating on the very spring tide of
prosperity. His wealth, which was yearly increasing, gave him great
weight in the neighbourhood; he was made overseer of the poor, and
there was a talk of sending him to Congress. When that ill starred
measure which created at a birth a swarm of banks, more greedy and
more lean than Pharaoh's kine, was adopted, farmer Gull partook of
the delusion. He was made a director of the bank of Potosi, which
was located in our village, and from that moment gave himself up to
dreams of imaginary wealth. He stocked his farm with merino sheep,
at an average of fifty dollars a head, and calculated that in six
years he should double his money. Six years have elapsed, and farmer
Gull's whole flock will not now sell for the cost of a single ewe.
He mortgaged his farm to the bank, that he might buy a neighbouring
property, and prosecute some expensive improvements in the way of
mills and factories. At home every thing was changed. Mistress Gull
rode to church in a handsome carriage, which Jonathan had sent up
from town; and Polly and Biddy, instead of being at the milk pail by
sunrise, lay abed till breakfast time and then came down with pale
and languid countenances, and their hair buckled into "kill-beaus"
and "heart breakers," to partake of coffee which unnerved their
system, and rendered them feverish and nervous till dinner time.
Why should I proceed with my story? The sequel may be read in the
present circumstances of many a once thriving family. The lean kine
of Simon devoured his fat kine, and distress and confusion covered
the face of the country. Gull, Snipe, & Co., after a few years of
fictitious prosperity, and proportional extravagance, went the way
of half Market Street. Farmer Gull was their security, and had to
make heavy payments to the bank. His own speculations had proved
ruinous, the clouds became continually darker and thicker around
him, and have at length burst upon his head. His whole property
is insufficient to pay the mortgages, and his stock and furniture
will be sold next week by the sheriff. Such is the termination of
farmer Gull's career. His family is incapacitated for its present
destitute situation, and has lost the inclination and the power of
being frugal: he himself, I observe, bears his troubles with an
appearance of unusual fortitude. He preserves his cheerful spirits,
and has become the life of a circle of embarrassed farmers that
frequent a tavern opposite the window of my study. I see him there
daily--sometimes to be sure moody and disconsolate, but more often
leading the chorus of some Bacchanalian song, or retailing the merry
jests of some quondam acquaintance, of a lawyer, or bank director.
Alas! for my countrymen;--when shall we see again the days of
honest dealing, sturdy frugality, unsophisticated manners, and
household industry?
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
THE DESULTORY REMARKER.
No. VI.
I've felt full many a heart-ach in my day,
At the mere rustling of a muslin gown,
And caught some dreadful colds, I blush to say,
While shivering in the shade of beauty's frown.
They say her smiles are sunbeams--it may be--
But never a sunbeam would she throw on me.
It has been said by a writer, whose genius and scholarship are in
the highest degree honourable to his country, that our Parnassus is
fruitful only in weeds, or at best in underwood. Notwithstanding the
general correctness of this assertion, a modest wild-flower now and
then delights the eye, and points that rainbow adventurer HOPE to
the brilliant future; in which some master of song shall disclose in
a broad and clear light,
_Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray._
American literature, it must be admitted, is comparatively feeble
in many of its branches; but while the names of FRANKLIN and RUSH,
DENNIE and BROWN, of WALSH and IRVING, are remembered, it is
entitled to the respectful consideration, even of foreign criticism.
The extract given above is made from a writer, who has furnished
some evidence of poetic talent in sundry occasional playful pieces,
published originally in the New York Evening Post, under the
signature of CROAKER & Co. However unprepossessing may be the name
which he has chosen to assume, his notes instead of reminding us, as
might be inferred, of the frog or the raven; at times successfully
rival those of the favourite songsters of the grove. From this
stanza, we learn that the author is a BACHELOR; who like too many
of his brethren, delights to dwell on the fancied cruelty of the
fair; and to pour the unheeded complaints of his sorrows on the
dull and listless ear of indifference. To this portion of society,
little commisseration is extended from any quarter; and the general
sentiment is responsive to that contained in the following couplet
of POPE:
_Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore;
Full well they merit all they feel and more._
Unpopular as such a doctrine might appear, this condition of life
has had its advocates and defenders. Amongst these may be placed
that truly great man, the eloquent and accomplished apostle PAUL.
When adverting to this subject, he discovers something of an
unsocial disposition where he says, "For I would that all men were
even as myself."[1] "But I speak this by permission, and not of
commandment," says he, as if fearful that speculative opinion might
be received from the weight of his character as authority perfectly
valid and conclusive. DRYDEN has asserted, that "a true painter
naturally delights in the liberty which belongs to the bachelor's
estate." However specious this position may appear, the liberal arts
are more indebted to the charities of life, and to the influence
of female excellence, than the author of such a sentiment would be
willing to admit. A vivid perception of physical and moral beauty,
delicacy of feeling, and intellectual refinement, are indispensably
requisite in the artist who aspires to eminence in his profession.
Nothing has a more direct and efficient tendency to promote elegance
and correctness of taste than the society of enlightened and
polished females. The absence of care is another immunity which the
BACHELOR is said to enjoy; but this as well as other assumptions in
his favour, but serves to illustrate the fact, that on almost any
subject whatever, to use the language of Sir ROGER DE COVERLY, much
may be said on both sides."
[1] 1 Cor. chap. 7.
In all ages there have been from various causes, a formidable array
of individuals of this class. The circumstances connected with the
present times are, unfortunately, well calculated to increase their
number. To the usual disastrous consequences produced by "beauty's
frown," the disappointments and gloomy prospects in business, deep
rooted habits of idleness and extravagance, by which the present
period is peculiarly distinguished, may also be added. Active
industry, frugality, and temperance, should be sedulously cultivated
as moral virtues; having a most important agency in augmenting the
stock of individual, social, and political happiness. But unamiable
and repulsive as the character of a BACHELOR may too frequently be,
is it necessarily so?
Can he contemplate the condition of childhood, surrounded with the
pallid spectres of poverty, and shooting forth luxuriantly into all
the noxious forms of ignorance and vice;--can he walk our streets or
wharves when his ear is saluted with their lisping imprecations;--or
witness their utter disregard of the duties which appertain to the
Sabbath,--without seriously interrogating his own bosom--In what way
can any exertions of mine improve their condition, and promote their
true interests?
Can he behold the increase of intemperance and crime in all the
ramifications of society, without feeling the influence of those
sacred ties which bind him to that community of which he is a
member; and without resolving to use all diligence to arrest their
further extension, so far as his influence and example may reach?
Can he listen with unconcern to the cries of oppressed humanity, and
view without emotion, those objects of wretchedness which almost
daily present themselves in the most affecting shapes, and forget
the intimate relationship, and the reciprocity of duties which exist
between every branch of the human family, and the justice and force
of the claims of distress upon every generous and sympathetic heart?
He can no where in the moral or physical economy of the world, find
an example of existences which are independent of all connection
with the present, past, and future. The universe has been with great
propriety compared to a complex machine, "a stupendous whole," every
part of which has its relative and proper function to perform, and
discord and confusion are the consequence of each irregularity of
movement.
From Nature's chain whatever link you strike,
Tenth, or ten thousandth breaks the chain alike.
It should be the business of _every one_ to cultivate such
sentiments as those which are contained in the extract below,
given from a work[2] which the celebrated DUGALD STEWART declared
when presenting a copy of it to one of our countrymen, now a
resident of Philadelphia, to be the finest piece of composition in
the English language: "_That to feel much for others, and little
for ourselves, that to restrain our selfish, and to indulge our
benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human nature;
and can alone produce among mankind that harmony of sentiments and
passions in which consists their whole grace and propriety._" Even
a BACHELOR, actuated by principles of this character, might emerge
into the character of a worthy, useful, and amiable man! ☞
[2] "Theory of Moral Sentiments," by ADAM SMITH, author of the
"Wealth of Nations."
Extracts from C. E.'s Common-Place Book.
_Cheap food for horses, from M'Arthur's Financial Facts, 8vo. p.
258._
The author lived in London and kept three horses which he fed as
follows.
Two trusses and a half of clover or meadow hay cut and mixed with
four trusses of wheat, or barley straw, when cut up, make nearly
equal quantities in weight; two heaped bushels of this mixture equal
to fourteen pounds weight, are given to each horse in twenty-four
hours, being previously mixed with half a peck of corn, (in England
oats) ground or chopped, weight 5_lbs._ with water to wet it; that
is, 7 pounds of hay; 7 pounds of straw; 5 pounds of meal; given at
six different times, each day and evening. Add 5 pounds of hay at
night, makes 24 pounds to each horse in twenty-four hours; and it
kept them much fatter than with double the corn each day unground,
two trusses of hay a week.
An ox, unworked, eats about 32 pounds of meadow hay per day.
An ox at work eats 40 pounds a day.
If fed in the stable each head of horned cattle will eat 130 pounds
green clover just cut, or 30 pounds clover hay a day.
At work, 3 horses eat in all, 48 stones a week of hay, also 48
quarts of oats a week each horse.
At work 18 horses in 12 days, eat 430 stones of hay, which is 14
stones a week for each horse, also 64 quarts of oats a week for each.
An idle horse eat 14 stones of hay a week and no corn.
_Native Grape Vine._
AUGUST 22, 1807.
In the garden of Joseph Cooper, Esq. of New Jersey, just opposite to
Philadelphia, is one grape vine which with its branches, covers 2170
square feet of ground. On this one vine are now grapes supposed to
be forty bushels, and probably much more. It produced last year one
barrel of wine, which was made without sugar, and is judged to be
quite as good as Madeira of the same age, by a man brought up in the
Madeira wine trade. Under this vine the ground produced a good crop
of grass this season. It is a native American vine, transplanted
from that same neighbourhood.[3]
[3] A short time before the decease of this very respectable
agriculturalist, I had the pleasure of a visit from him, I believe
in the year 1815; when I remarked, I had heard much about his
celebrated vine from other people, and I now wished some account
of it from himself. He informed me, (and I put his statement in
writing) that the year previous, he had taken from this vine 40
bushels of grapes, which weighed 2000_lbs._, from which was made
upwards of 100 gallons of wine, the pure juice of the grape; without
either water or sugar, or any admixture whatever. The vine and its
branches covered the eighteenth part of an acre. Now according to
our friend C. E.'s mode of calculation, which is rather too sanguine
for practical men, if an eighteenth part produce 100 gallons, a
whole acre of course would produce 1800 gallons. It continues to
flourish, and bore last year the usual quantity of grapes. Though
this is an extraordinary vine, and has received more attention than
could be given to any large number by a common sized family, yet it
evidently shows the cultivation of this description of vine might be
made productive.
Every farmer in the middle and southern states might, if he chose,
have such a vine; or at least ten or more smaller ones, which would
yield as much, and without any material expense. If this were the
case, wine would be so plentiful and so cheap, that every labouring
man might have it as a pleasant, cheering and invigorating beverage,
and would do more to extinguish the hateful vice of drunkenness than
perhaps any other agent within our control.
This sentiment is corroborated by the fact, that in the vine
countries of France, where weak wines are as abundant as cider,
in a plentiful season in Pennsylvania, and where all, poor and
rich, drink of them freely, there is comparatively no drunkenness.
The writer of this note, some years ago, travelled in France in
different directions about 1200 miles; and took notice in the
whole journey of but two drunken men, and excepting three or four
instances, always had his accommodations at an inn, the most likely
place to find intemperance. As you go northward into the colder
countries of Holland and the north of Germany, where the vine cannot
be cultivated but with great difficulty, and wine is too high priced
to be commonly used, you may observe the progress of drunkenness
almost by the degrees of latitude. Immediately previous to this
journey in France, I spent several months in Germany, where I drank
coffee regularly twice a day, and was afflicted almost daily with
headach. In France, where I seldom used coffee, but frequently weak
wine at breakfast, as well as at other times, I had no headach.
Should this be generally the effect, it would be another reason
in favour of cultivating the vine in the United States. I am no
friend to wine bibbers, nor would I be willing to encourage in the
remotest degree the use of inebriating liquors, but I should like
very much to see a vine such as Joseph Cooper's on every farm in our
country.--ED.
If 2170 square feet produced 32 gallons, then one acre which is
43,560 square feet would produce about 20 barrels, or 640 gallons
but allowing space for avenues, say about 15 barrels, or 480 gallons.
It is expected that the crop of grapes for 1807 will produce much
more than those of 1806.
One acre yielding 480 gallons,
at $1.00, is - - - $480.00
at $1.50, is - - - $720.00
This holds out a profitable culture to farmers.
C. E.
TO THE EDITORS OF THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
The "_Philadelphia Society for Promoting Agriculture_," at a late
meeting, passed a resolution to recommend the use of Malt Liquors,
in preference to Ardent Spirits, on farms;--and appointed the
subscribers a Committee to procure and publish Directions to enable
Farmers to Brew Beer.--They have accordingly the pleasure to send a
pamphlet published by the proprietors of a patent English brewing
apparatus, which was imported by a gentleman of Philadelphia; and
also some directions by an eminent brewer, to enable families
to brew beer with the common household utensils. The apparatus
was tried last year by one of our members, and found to answer
perfectly.--It was imported with the view to general utility, not to
private profit, and we understand may be purchased at first cost.[4]
[4] The Editors will direct where it may be seen.
RICHARD PETERS, }
JAMES MEASE, }
ROBERTS VAUX, }
ISAAC C. JONES, } _Committee._
_Philadelphia, June, 1820._
DIRECTIONS FOR BREWING
_With Needham & Co.'s Patent Portable Family Brewing Machine._
As the attainment of good Malt Liquor greatly depends upon the
quality of the materials from which it is produced, it may be useful
to give a few general instructions for distinguishing the quality of
malt and hops, of which it should be only composed; but considerable
practice being requisite to form a ready judgment, it will generally
be more safe to buy them of some reputable dealer.
MALT.--To judge of the quality of malt, you must chew it, and if
_sweet, tender, and mealy, with a brisk full flavour_, it is good;
in coloured malt particular care should be taken that it is neither
smoky nor burnt.[5]
[5] Malt, previous to being ground, should be passed through a
screen, or sieved to remove the dust.
HOPS should be of a _bright colour, free from green leaves, of
a quick pungent smell, and glutinous quality_, which will be
discoverable by their adhering together, and by rubbing them in the
hands. _New hops are preferable to old, after Christmas._
_To Brew Ale with Table Beer after, from the same malt and
hops._--The malt should be pale, sweet, and tender, ground coarse,
and the hops of a pale bright colour and glutinous quality.
If the ale is for present use, 3/4 of a pound of hops to each bushel
of malt will be sufficient, but for store ale use one pound per
bushel.
[Illustration: brewing equipment]
The machine being placed ready for use as described in the plate,
figure G,[6] put into it as much cold water as will cover the
perforated bottom of the extracting cylinder, and light the fire;
then put as much coarse ground malt into the perforated cylinder,
(see the plate, figure D,) as will three parts fill it, taking care
that none goes into the centre, (which centre should be covered,
(_but only_) while putting the malt in, and when mashing the malt,)
nor any between the cylinder and boiler.--The malt being put in,
pour through the centre as much more cold water as will just cover
the malt, then make the fire good, and in one hour after stir the
malt well up with a strong mashing stick, for about ten minutes, so
that every particle of malt may be divided from the other: let the
heat increase to 180 degrees, which you must ascertain by holding
the thermometer a minute in the centre part of the machine, and
when at 180 degrees of heat, stir the malt again, and after this
second stirring, try the heat, and if then at 180 degrees, damp the
fire well with some wet ashes to prevent the heat of the mash from
increasing, and in 3 hours and a half from the time of lighting the
fire, draw off the wort very gently that it may run fine, and put it
into one of the coolers, and put all the hops (rubbing them through
your hands to break the lumps) on the top of the wort to keep it
hot till the time for returning it into the machine for boiling;
having drawn off this ale wort, put into the machine through the
centre as much more cold water as will cover the grains, brisken the
fire, and in half an hour stir up the malt for about ten minutes,
and make it 180 degrees of heat as quick as you can, then damp the
fire to prevent its getting hotter, and in one hour and a half from
the time of putting in the water, draw off this table beer wort
gently, that it may run fine, and put it into the other cooler, and
cover it over to keep it hot until the time for returning it into
the machine for boiling; having drawn off this table beer wort, if
you wish to make a third wort, put in as much more cold water into
the machine as you think proper, and make it 170 degrees of heat
as quick as you can, and draw it off in about an hour after, and
put it to the last drawing off, or wort: then take the grains out
of the cylinder with a hand shovel as clean as you can, and after,
take out the cylinder,[7] and with a birch broom and a little water
rince out the boiler clean, and put back the perforated cylinder
into the boiler, and then put the first drawing off or ale wort,
with all the hops, into the machine cylinder where you have taken
the grains from, and cover the machine, but be sure the centre cover
is off; make it boil as quick as you can, and let it boil well one
hour, then damp the fire and draw it off into a cooler or coolers,
which should be placed in the air where it will cool quick. Having
drawn off this ale wort, return the second drawing off, or table
beer wort, with the third, into the machine to the hops left from
the ale wort, stir up the fire and make it boil as quick as you can,
and let it boil well one hour, then put out the fire and draw off
the wort, and put it into a cooler placed in the air to cool quick;
when the worts in the coolers are cooled down to 70 degrees of heat
by the thermometer, put the proportion of a gill of fresh thick
yeast to every 9 gallons of wort in the coolers, first thinning the
yeast with a little of the wort before you put it in that it may
the better mix; and when the ale wort is cooled down to 60 degrees
of heat, draw it off from the coolers with the yeast and sediment,
and put it into the machine boiler (the machine boiler having been
previously cleared from the hops and cylinder,) which forms a
convenient vessel placed on its stand for the ale to ferment in,
which must be kept fermenting in it with the cover off until the
head has the appearance of a thick brown yeast on the surface, an
inch or two deep, which will take 3 or 4 days;[8] when the head has
this appearance, draw off the beer free from the yeast and bottoms
into a clean cask, which must be filled full,[9] and when done
working, put in a handful of dry hops, bung it down tight, and stow
it in a cool cellar. This ale will be fit to tap in 3 or 4 weeks.
[6] The smoke pipe, with an upright elbow, about 3 or 4 feet, must
be placed on the projecting neck of the fire-place, and with a
return elbow convey the smoke through a hole, cut in the brick flue
to receive it; by this method the fire will draw well.
If any smoke should come from between the boiler and fire-place, a
little dry sand being dropped into the cavity will prevent it.--When
the brewing is over, take off the smoke pipe and shake out the soot,
which will ensure the fire drawing lively the next brewing.
[7] If the machine is large, the perforated cylinder has four
handles for the purpose of easy taking it out and in by a pulley and
rope suspended over its centre at a proper height.
[8] If the temperature of the weather is below 55 degrees of heat by
the thermometer, it will be better to place your fermenting vessel
in a situation not exposed to the cold; the cellar where you keep
your beer in would most likely be a good and handy place for this
purpose.
[9] If the cask intended for the ale, should not be full, fill it up
from your table beer, or if more than enough, put the remainder to
the table beer; but this mixing you must regulate according to the
strength you want your different sorts of beer.
The second wort for table beer should be put from the coolers with
yeast and sediment into an upright cask, with the cover off or top
head out, at not exceeding 60 degrees of heat, and as soon as you
perceive a brown yeast on the surface, draw it off free from the
yeast and bottoms into a clean cask, which must be kept filled full,
and when done working, put in a handful of dry hops, bung it down
tight, and stow it in a cool cellar. This table beer will be fit to
tap in a week, or as soon as fine.
_To make Table Ale._--Mix the first and second worts together, and
ferment, and treat it the same as the ale.
_To Brew Porter or Brown Beer, with Table Beer after, from the same
Malt and Hops._--Use pale and brown malt in equal quantities, ground
coarse; and strong brown coloured hops of a glutinous quality. If
the beer is for present draught, 3/4 pound of hops to each bushel
of malt will be sufficient, but if intended for store beer, use one
pound to each bushel of malt.
The process of brewing is the same as described for brewing ale
with table beer after, except the heat of each mash must not be so
high by 10 degrees, on account of the brown malt; the first wort
fermented by itself will be stout porter, and fit to tap in 3 or 4
weeks; the second wort will be the table beer, and fit to tap in a
week, or as soon as fine; but if you mix the first and second worts
together, the same as for table ale, it will be good common porter.
_To Brew Table Beer only._--Let your malt be of one sort, of a full
yellow colour (not brown malt) ground coarse, and strong brown
coloured hops, of a glutinous quality. If for present draught 1/2 a
pound of hops to each bushel of malt will be sufficient, but if for
keeping two or 3 months, use one pound of hops per bushel.
The process of brewing is the same as described for brewing porter
and table beer, with the addition of another wort, that is, filling
the machine a third time with water before you take out the grains,
and treating the third mash the same as the second.
The first drawing off or wort, with part of the second wort, to be
boiled (first) one hour with all the hops, and the remainder of the
second wort with the third, to be boiled next one hour to the same
hops; these two boilings, when cooled down to 60 degrees of heat,
(having put your yeast to it in the coolers at 70 degrees) must be
put together to ferment in the machine boiler, and as soon as it has
the appearance of a brown yeast on the surface, draw it off into the
casks, which must be kept filled full, and when done working, put
into each cask a handful of dry hops, bung it down tight, and put it
into a cool cellar. Tap it in a week, or as soon as fine.
_General Remarks._--The season for brewing sound keeping beer, is
from October to May.
_All Beer should be stored in cool cellars or vaults, and kept
as much as possible from the common atmosphere_; and in drawing
beer from a cask, if necessary to raise the vent-peg, it should be
carefully tightened as soon as the beer is drawn.
When beer is intended to be kept many months, the bungs of the
casks, and if bell casks are used, the whole of the head should be
covered with sand or clay, which should be kept moist.
_To preserve the Machine._--When the brewing is over, wash the
machine and coolers with cold or hot water, then dry them, and put
them away in a dry place. When wanted to be used, they should be
washed with boiling water.
_To keep Casks sweet._--It is recommended when a cask of beer
is drawn off, to take out the head and scrub out the cask; then
thoroughly dry and put it away in a dry place with the head out.
If it should be inconvenient to take out the head, and the cask is
wanted to be filled again quickly, it may be washed quite clean
with warm water, and afterwards with lime water; or the grounds
being left in the cask, and every vent stopped, (bung, tap, and vent
holes,) it may be kept in that state for a short time.
Casks of a bell shape are preferable for private brewing, and the
patentees make them upon a principle by which the inside can be
scrubbed out clean without removing the head, and at the same price
as common casks of that shape.
* * * * *
The following comparative statement of the cost of Brewing Beer with
Needham's apparatus, and of Beer when purchased, is given by the
proprietor.--The references are to London prices, but an opinion may
still be formed of the great economy of Domestic Brewing.
Daily Consumption of| Yearly Consumption| Brewers' Prices. | Yearly expense
ale in a family, 3 | is 137 gallons | At 2s. 6d. per gal. | L.17 2 6
pints Do. of table | Is 137 gallons | At 8d. | 4 11 4
beer, 3 pints | | | -------------
21 13 10
To Brew the above quantity of good Ale and Table Beer, 15-1/4
Bushels of Malt are required, the cost of which, at 10s. per
Bushel, will be L.7 12 6
11-1/2 _lbs._ best Hops, for ditto, at 5s. 2 17 6----10 10 0
Yearly saving in the above quantity 11 3 10
The above calculation sufficiently proves that the Patent Brewing
Machine will, to the smallest Family who purchase Brewer's Beer, pay
for itself in One Year, and those who have been accustomed to Brew
by the old Method, will find the beer much stronger and better by
using this Machine, and very considerably less likely to be spoiled
in Brewing, with a great saving in Fuel, Labour, and Time.
As it may be inconvenient, or too expensive, for many private
families to purchase a brewing machine, the following Directions are
subjoined, which will enable them, by the aid of the vessels used
in a family, to brew a barrel of beer; and by attention, and a few
experiments, they will produce an excellent beverage.
Prepare a tub for making the extract, by fitting a false bottom with
numerous holes, and raised about half an inch from the real bottom,
in which fix a cock for drawing off the extract. Have four bushels
of malt coarsely ground, and heat your water to about 170 or 175
degrees[10] of heat, of Fahrenheit's thermometer. Then pour in the
tub about thirty-eight gallons of the water, and gently stir in the
malt, until it is all mixed. Cover it, and let it stand about an
hour and a half; draw off the extract into a vessel, and throw in
about one and a quarter pounds of hops for liquor for present use,
or about two or two and a half pounds for keeping liquors; cover the
vessel to keep in the heat, and pour over the malt about 26 gallons
of water, of about the same heat as the first, stirring it until it
is well mixed with the malt; let it stand one hour, then draw off
the extract, add it to the first extract, and put them on to boil in
an open kettle: this will be your strong beer. Then pour over the
malt about twenty gallons of water, for small beer, at about 160 or
170 degrees of heat. This last will not require stirring, and the
extract may remain covered until the kettle is ready for it. Keep
the strong beer boiling smartly for about one hour and a quarter, or
one hour and a half, for present use, or two hours for keeping: then
pour it through a sieve or strainer, and set it to cool. Return the
hops into the kettle with your third extract, or small beer, which
set to boiling as soon as practicable, and continue it for about an
hour and a half; then pour it through the strainer, and set it to
cool. When cool, ferment according to the directions accompanying
the brewing machine. The quantity of water used may be varied at
the discretion of the person brewing. By diminishing the water,
he may increase the strength of the liquor, or by increasing it,
diminish the strength. Thus with the hops he may vary the quantity
to suit his palate in the degree of bitter flavour that may be most
agreeable.--For fomenting, a cask with one head taken out, will
answer the same purpose as the machine boiler.
[10] NOTE.--A person who experienced its benefit and almost
certainty, informs us, that he always practised looking steadily
into the vapours of the brewing kettle, after the liquor (water)
had been in a boiling state for some time. The moment he could
distinguish the features of his face, in the surface of the water,
he directed the cock to be turned; and the liquor, of course, thrown
over the mash. This was an unerring substitute for a thermometer, or
sachorometer. His kettle, which had been a still, held about sixty
gallons.
THE SNOW STORM.
From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, for April.
"'Tis only from the belief of the goodness and wisdom of a
Supreme Being, that our calamities can be borne in that manner
which becomes a man."--HENRY MACKENZIE.
In summer there is a beauty in the wildest moors of Scotland, and
the wayfaring man who sits down for an hour's rest beside some
little spring that flows unheard through the brightened moss and
water-cresses, feels his weary heart revived by the silent, serene,
and solitary prospect. On every side sweet sunny spots of verdure
smile towards him from among the melancholy heather--unexpectedly
in the solitude a stray sheep, it may be with its lambs, starts
half alarmed at his motionless figure--insects large, bright, and
beautiful come careering by him through the desert air--nor does the
Wild want its own songsters, the grey linnet, fond of the blooming
furze, and now and then the lark mounting up to heaven above the
summits of the green pastoral hills.--During such a sunshiny hour,
the lonely cottage on the waste seems to stand a paradise; and as he
rises to pursue his journey, the traveller looks back and blesses
it with a mingled emotion of delight and envy. There, thinks he,
abide the children of innocence and contentment, the two most benign
spirits that watch over human life.
But other thoughts arise in the mind of him who may chance to
journey through the same scene in the desolation of Winter. The cold
bleak sky girdles the moor as with a belt of ice--life is frozen in
air and on earth. The silent is not of repose but extinction--and
should a solitary human dwelling catch his eye half buried in the
snow, he is sad for the sake of them whose destiny it is to abide
far from the cheerful haunts of men, shrouded up in melancholy, by
poverty held in thrall, or pining away in unvisited or untended
sickness.
But, in truth, the heart of human life is but imperfectly discovered
from its countenance; and before we can know what the summer, or
what the winter yields for enjoyment or trial to our country's
peasantry, we must have conversed with them in their fields and by
their fire-sides; and make ourselves acquainted with the powerful
ministry of the seasons, not over those objects alone that feed the
eye and the imagination, but over all the incidents, occupations,
and events that modify or constitute the existence of the poor.
I have a short and simple story to tell of the winter life of the
moorland cottager--a story but of one evening--with a few events and
no signal catastrophe--but which may haply please those hearts whose
delight it is to think on the humble under-plots that are carrying
on in the great Drama of life.
Two cottagers, husband and wife, were sitting by their cheerful
peat-fire one winter evening, in a small lonely hut, on the edge
of a wide moor, at some miles distance from any other habitation.
There had been, at one time, several huts of the same kind erected
close together, and inhabited by families of the poorest class of
day-labourers who found work among the distant farms, and at night
returned to dwellings which were rent free, with their little
gardens, won from the waste.--But one family after another had
dwindled away, and the turf-built huts had all fallen into ruins,
except one that had always stood in the centre of this little
solitary village, with its summer walls covered with the richest
honeysuckles and in the midst of the brightest of all the gardens.
It alone now sent up its smoke into the clear winter sky--and its
little end window, now lighted up, was the only ground star that
shone towards the belated traveller, if any such ventured to cross,
on a winter night, a scene so dreary and desolate. The affairs of
the small household were all arranged for the night. The little
rough pony that had drawn in a sledge, from the heart of the
Black-Moss, the fuel by whose blaze the cottiers were now sitting
cheerily and the little Highland cow, whose milk enabled them to
live, were standing amicably together, under cover of a rude shed,
of which one side was formed by the peat stack, and which was at
once byre, and stable, and hen-roost. Within, the clock ticked
cheerfully as the fire-light readied its old oak-wood case across
the yellow sanded floor--and a small round table stood between,
covered with a snow-white cloth, on which were milk and oat cakes,
the morning, mid-day, and evening meal of these frugal and contented
cottiers. The spades and the mattocks of the labourer were collected
into one corner, and showed that the succeeding day was the blessed
Sabbath--while on the wooden chimney-piece were seen lying an open
Bible ready for family worship.
The father and mother were sitting together without opening their
lips, but with their hearts overflowing with happiness, for on this
Saturday-night they were, every minute, expecting to hear at the
latch the hand of their only daughter, a maiden of about fifteen
years, who was at service with a farmer over the hills. This dutiful
child was, as they knew, to bring home to them "her sair-worn penny
fee," a pittance which, in the beauty of her girl-hood, she earned
singing at her work, and which, in the benignity of that sinless
time, she would pour with tears into the bosoms she so dearly loved.
Forty shillings a year were all the wages of sweet Hannah Lee--but
though she wore at her labour a tortoise-shell comb in her auburn
hair, and though in the kirk none were more becomingly arrayed
than she, one half, at least, of her earnings were to be reserved
for the holiest of all purposes, and her kind innocent heart was
gladdened when she looked on the little purse that was, on the long
expected Saturday-night, to be taken from her bosom, and put, with a
blessing, into the hand of her father, now growing old at his daily
toils.
Of such a child the happy cottiers were thinking in their silence.
And well might they be called happy. It is at that sweet season that
filial piety is most beautiful.--Their own Hannah, had just outgrown
the mere unthinking gladness of childhood, but had not yet reached
that time, when inevitable selfishness mixes with the pure current
of love. She had begun to think on what her affectionate heart had
felt so long; and when she looked on the pale face and bending
frame of her mother, on the deepening wrinkles, and whitening hairs
of her father, often would she lie weeping for their sakes on her
midnight bed--and wish that she was beside them as they slept,
that she might kneel down and kiss them, and mention their names
over and over again in her prayer. The parents whom before she had
only loved, her expanding heart now also venerated. With gushing
tenderness was now mingled a holy fear and an awful reverence. She
had discerned the relation in which she, an only child, stood to
her poor parents now that they were getting old, and there was not
a passage in Scripture that spake of parents or of children, from
Joseph sold into slavery, to Mary weeping below the Cross, that was
not written, never to be obliterated, on her uncorrupted heart.
The father rose from his seat, and went to the door to look out
into the night.--The stars were in thousands--and the full moon
was risen.--It was almost light as day, and the snow, that seemed
incrusted with diamonds, was so hardened by the frost, that his
daughter's homeward feet would leave no mark on its surface. He had
been toiling all day among the distant Castle-woods, and, stiff
and wearied as he now was, he was almost tempted to go to meet his
child, but his wife's kind voice dissuaded him, and returning to the
fire-side, they began to talk of her whose image had been so long
passing before them in their silence.