A, manure cellar. B, root cellar. C, stairs leading to first, or main
floor. D, stairs leading outside. E, window--lighting both rooms of
cellar.
No. 5 is a front section of rabbit hutches, eight in number, two in a
line, four tiers high, one above another, with wire-screened doors,
hinges, and buttons for fastening. A, the grain trough, is at the
bottom.
No. 6 is the floor section of the hutches, falling, as before mentioned,
two inches from front to rear.
[Illustration: FRONT OF HUTCH. REAR OF HUTCH.]
A, is the door to lift up, for cleaning out the floors. B, is the zinc
plate, to carry off the urine and _running_ wash of the floors. C, is
the trough for carrying off this offal into the manure cellars, through
the trunk, as seen in No. 2.
No. 7 is a rear section of hutches, same as in No. 5, with the waste
trough at the bottom leading into the trench before described, with the
cross section, No. 8, before described in No. 6.
A, a grated door at the back of the hutch, for ventilation in summer,
and covered with a thin board in winter. B, a flap-door, four inches
wide, which is raised for cleaning out the floor; under this door is a
space of one inch, for passing out the urine of the rabbits. C, are
buttons for fastening the doors. D, the backs of the bedrooms, without
any passage out on back side.
This matter of the rabbitry, and its various explanations, may be
considered by the plain, matter-of-fact man, as below the dignity of
people pursuing the _useful_ and _money-making_ business of life. Very
possible. But many boys--for whose benefit they are chiefly
introduced--and _men_, even, may do worse than to spend their time in
such apparent trifles. It is better than going to a horse-race. It is
better even than going to a trotting match, where _fast men_, as well as
_fast_ horses congregate. It is better, too, than a thousand other
places where boys _want_ to go, when they have nothing to interest them
at home.
One half of the farmer's boys, who, discontented at home, leave it for
something more congenial to their feelings and tastes, do so simply
because of the excessive dullness, and want of interest in objects to
attract them there, and keep them contented. Boys, in America at least,
are apt to be _smart_. So their parents think, at all events; and too
smart they prove, to stay at home, and follow the beaten track of their
fathers, as their continual migration from the paternal roof too plainly
testifies. This, in many cases, is the fault of the parents themselves,
because they neglect those little objects of interest to which the minds
and tastes of their sons are inclined, and for want of which they
_imagine_ more attractive objects abroad, although in the search they
often fail in finding them. We are a progressive people. Our children
are not always content to be what their fathers are; and parents must
yield a little to "the spirit of the age" in which they live. And boys
_pay_ too, as they go along, if properly treated. They should be made
companions, not servants. Many a joyous, hearty spirit, who, when
properly encouraged, comes out a whole man at one-and-twenty, if kept in
curb, and harnessed down by a hard parent, leaves the homestead, with a
curse and a kick, determined, whether in weal or in woe, never to
return. Under a different course of treatment, he would have fixed his
home either at his birthplace, or in its immediate vicinity, and in a
life of frugality, usefulness, and comparative ease, blessed his
parents, his neighborhood, and possibly the world, with a useful
example--all, perhaps, grown out of his youthful indulgence in the
possession of a rabbit-warren, or some like trifling matter.
This may appear to be small morals, as well as small business. We admit
it. But those who have been well, and indulgently, as well as
methodically trained, may look back and see the influence which all such
little things had upon their early thoughts and inclinations; and thus
realize the importance of providing for the amusements and pleasures of
children in their early years. The dovecote, the rabbitry, the
poultry-yard, the sheep-fold, the calf-pen, the piggery, the young colt
of a favorite mare, the yoke of yearling steers, or a fruit tree which
they have planted, and nursed, and called it, or the fruit it bears,
_their own_,--anything, in fact, which they can call _theirs_--are so
many objects to bind boys to their homes, and hallow it with a thousand
nameless blessings and associations, known only to those who have been
its recipients. Heaven's blessings be on the family homestead!
"Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!"
sung the imaginary maid of Milan, the beautiful creation of John Howard
Payne, when returning from the glare and pomp of the world, to her
native cottage in the mountains of Switzerland. And, although all out of
date, and conventionally vulgar this sentiment may be _now_ considered,
such is, or should be the subdued, unsophisticated feeling of all
natives of the farm house, and the country cottage. We may leave the
quiet roof of our childhood; we may mix in the bustling contentions of
the open world; we may gain its treasures; we may enjoy its greatness,
its honors, and its applause; but there are times when they will all
fade into nothing, in comparison with the peace, and quietude, and
tranquil happiness of a few acres of land, a comfortable roof, and
contentment therewith!