DEAR PUNCHINELLO: From early ages, man has been a tiller of the soil. My
ancestors were pretty much all in this line of business. My venerable
great-grandfather-in-law came over in the Mayflower, and though not
exactly a tiller himself, he is supposed to have had a good deal to do
with the tiller department of that historic ship. Several of our folks
have, from time to time, studied agriculture on New England town farms;
which explains the passion I always had for such attractive out-of-door
sports as stump-pulling, laying stone wall, and drinking very hard cider
in the shade.
Being down at my uncle's this week, I have attended the Annual County
Agricultural Fair. The managers wanted me to go on one of the
committees, (whether it was plain Durhams, or short-horn needle-work, I
don't this moment remember,) but I declined. I told them that, while I
was ready to fill any vacancy that might occur in the "Committee on
Bills upon their Second Reading," they really must excuse me elsewhere.
I finally compromised by accepting a free pass, and agreeing to poke the
ribs of all the cattle I could reach, just as though I was a _bona fide_
official.
The show began yesterday with a grand concourse of all the farming
people for miles around. Every farmer brought a pair of hands with him.
The teams were innumerable; I had no idea it was such a teeming
population. There was a procession of yokes of oxen, a brass band, the
living skeleton, two fire engines, citizens generally, the Orator of the
Day, more oxen, marshals in cowhide boots and badges, and a cavalcade.
There may have been other oxen. I did not intend to omit them.
The Orator was announced in the bills as "a finished speaker." He
managed to get himself so thoroughly mixed up with his subject, however,
and knew so much about farming, which he was willing to disclose, that I
soon saw he couldn't be safely set down as finished till late in the
afternoon. I don't recall much of his address, further than that, when
he got to talking about Fall Ploughing, he said: "In the hour of his
country's peril, if fall he must, he would a little rather fall
ploughing, than in any other way!" I think, too, he spoke of the Fates
always smiling upon the farmer who improved his soil. I suppose he meant
the phosphates.
To-day I have been all around the cattle pens. I never saw such stock
before. Owing to their habit of staying out in the country the year
round, they have a firm, sleek, animated look which the best guaranteed
city stock fails to attain. One cow, from her impartial method of
hoisting visitors out of her pasture, was labelled "The General Hooker."
There was a fine display of Dorking lambs and Jersey hens, while some
bees of the Berkshire breed fairly divided the honors with a few very
choice Merino pigs. A handsomely built North Devon chain-pump attracted
much attention from the milkmen.
The turkeys, geese, ducks, poultry and other farm yard _habitués_,
though cooped up in one corner, did all they could to make the show a
success.
The products of the soil were heaped up in the richest profusion. This
is a great raising county. No community raised their quota of
substitutes more rapidly, during the war. Rows upon rows of corn, of
barley, rye and oats [like most modern Serials,] seemed as though they
would never come to an end.
Some early squashes were pointed out to me. I understood that they were
gathered at four o'clock in the morning. This is nothing. I distinctly
remember picking up watermelons, when a schoolboy, much earlier than
that.
The butter, cheese, and bed quilts, were all of the finest texture.
Everybody took a first premium.
Among the newly patented inventions I noticed "The JOHN MORRISSEY
Smasher," "The Swamp Angel Sheller," and a lovely piece of mechanism
called "The Just One Mower."
There was the usual horse trotting from morning to night, both days,
with pool selling, from which, I presume, agriculture derived great
benefit.
I say nothing of the other side-shows, for (with the exception of ALEXIS
ST. MARTIN,) I never heard of one that was worth going across the street
to see.
Yours truly, and yours rurally,