observant of rural things, and the operations of Infinite Wisdom,
through the very feeble organs with which I have been endowed, I have
often thought, that we, who are daily made sensible of so many
manifestations of creative power and mercy, should be more seriously
disposed, more grateful for the beneficences of Providence, than those
who live in societies removed from these evidences; but yet I neither
know nor believe that we in any respect give greater proof of this
disposition, or are more sensible of the benevolence of an overruling
power, than others. The manufacturer by the combination of artful
contrivances effects his purposes, and by aid of man’s wisdom brings his
work to perfection; the artisan may eat his bread with all thankfulness
and humility of heart, solace his labors and mitigate his fatigue by the
grateful flavor and juices of fruits purchased at the stall; but he sees
nothing of the machinery, the gradual elaborations of nature, nor can he
be conversant with the multiplicity of influences and events, which are
requisite to bring them to his hand. He who lives in the country knows
that an omnipotent impulse must be constantly in action; he may till his
land, and scatter his corn, but the early and latter rain must soften
his furrows; the snow, as wool, must cover the soil; the hoar-frost,
like ashes, lighten his glebe; the sunshine animate the sprouting shoot;
and winds evaporate noxious moisture, insects and blights, that hover
around, or circulate through the air, must be guided away, or our labors
become abortive, or are consumed: we see the bud, the blossom, leaf, and
germ, all progressively advance, to afford plenty or yield us enjoyment;
we see these things accomplished by the influencing interpositions of a
beneficent Providence, and in no way effected by the machinery or
artifices of our own hands; and it should operate more powerfully, in
disposing those who witness them to particular resignation and
gratitude, than others who cannot behold them, but view the ingenuity of
man as the agent and means of his prosperity; yet how it happens that
this principle is not in more active operation within us, I cannot
perceive.
Every age has been the dupe of empiricism; and the greater its darkness,
the more impudent appear to have been the pretensions of knavery. We may
even now, perhaps, swallow a few matters, the arcana of the needy or the
daring, in the various compositions of powders, draughts and pills,
which are not quite agreeable to our palates or our stomachs; but our
forefathers had more to encounter, as they had more faith to support
them, when they were subjected, for the cure of their maladies, to such
medicines as _album græcum_, or the white bony excrement of dogs,
bleached on the bank, for their heart-burns and acidities; the powder
produced from burnt mice, as a dentifrice; millepedes, or wood-lice, for
nephritic and other complaints; and the ashes of earth-worms,
administered in nervous and epileptic cases.
Our apple-trees here are greatly injured, and some annually destroyed by
the agency of what seems to be a very feeble insect. We call it, from
habit, or from some unassigned cause, the “American blight” (aphis
lanata);[67] this noxious creature being known in some orchards by the
more significant name of “white blight.” In the spring of the year a
slight hoariness is observed upon the branches of certain species of our
orchard fruit. As the season advances this hoariness increases, it
becomes cottony, and toward the middle or the end of summer the under
sides of some of the branches are invested with a thick, downy
substance, so long as at times to be sensibly agitated by the air. Upon
examining this substance we find, that it conceals a multitude of small
wingless creatures, which are busily employed in preying upon the limb
of the tree beneath. This they are well enabled to do, by means of a
beak terminating in a fine bristle: this, being insinuated through the
bark, and the sappy part of the wood, enables the creature to extract,
as with a syringe, the sweet, vital liquor that circulates in the plant.
This terminating bristle is not observed in every individual: in those
that possess it, it is of different lengths, and is usually, when not in
use, so closely concealed under the breast of the animal, as to be
invisible. In the younger insects it is often manifested by protruding
like a fine termination to the anus; but as their bodies become
lengthened the bristle is not in this way observable. The alburnum, or
sap wood, being thus wounded, rises up in excrescences and nodes all
over the branch, and deforms it; the limb, deprived of its nutriment,
grows sickly; the leaves turn yellow, and the part perishes. Branch
after branch is thus assailed until they all become leafless, and the
tree dies.
Aphides in general attack the young and softer parts of plants; but this
insect seems easily to wound the harder bark of the apple, and by no
means makes choice of the most tender part of the branch. They give a
preference to certain sorts, but not always the most rich fruits; as
cider apples, and wildings, are greatly infested by them, and from some
unknown cause other varieties seem to be exempted from their
depredations. The Wheeler’s russet, and Crofton pippin, I have never
observed to be injured by them. This insect is viviparous, or produces
its young alive, forming a cradle for them by discharging from the
extremities of its body a quantity of long cottony matter, which,
becoming interwoven and entangled, prevents the young from falling to
the earth, and completely envelops the parent and offspring. In this
cottony substance we observe, as soon as the creature becomes animated
in the spring, and as long as it remains in vigor, many round pellucid
bodies, which, at the first sight, look like eggs, only that they are
larger than we might suppose to be ejected by the animal. They consist
of a sweet glutinous fluid, and are probably the discharges of the
aphis, and the first food of its young. That it is thus consumed, I
conjecture from its diminution, and its by no means increasing so fast
as fæcal matter would do from such perpetually feeding creatures. I have
not, in any instance, observed the young to proceed from these globular
bodies, though they are found at various ages at all times during the
season. This lanuginous vestiture seems to serve likewise as a vehicle
for dispersing the animal; for though most of our species of aphis are
furnished with wings, I have never seen any individual of this American
blight so provided, but the winds wafting about small tufts of this
downy matter, convey the creature with it from tree to tree throughout
the whole orchard. In the autumn, when this substance is generally long,
the winds and rains of the season effectually disperse these insects,
and we observe them endeavoring to secrete themselves in the crannies of
any neighboring substance. Should the savoy cabbage be near the trees
whence they have been dislodged, the cavities of the under sides of its
leaves are commonly favorite asylums for them. Multitudes perish by
these rough removals, but numbers yet remain; and we may find them in
the nodes and crevices, on the under sides of the branches, at any
period of the year, the long, cottony vesture being removed, but still
they are enveloped in a fine, short, downy clothing, to be seen by a
magnifier, proceeding apparently from every suture, or pore of their
bodies, and protecting them in their dormant state from the moisture and
frosts of our climate. This aphis, in a natural state, usually awakens
and commences its labors very early in the month of March; and the
hoariness on its body may be observed increasing daily: but if an
infected branch be cut in the winter, and kept in water in a warm room,
these aphides will awaken speedily, spin their cottony vests, and feed,
and discharge, as accustomed to do in a genial season.
It is often very difficult to ascertain the first appearance of many
creatures not natives of our climate, though, from the progress of
science, and more general observation, many things will be recorded. The
first visit of the death’s-head moth is very obscure; an extraordinary
snail (testacellus halotideus)[68] is now spreading by transplantation
in many places, and may hereafter occasion inquiry. The first visit of
this aphis to us is by no means clear. The epithet of American blight
may be correctly applied; but we have no sufficient authority to
conclude, that we derived this pest from that country. Normandy and the
Netherlands, too, have each been supposed to have conferred this evil
upon us; but extensively as this insect is spread around, and favorable
as our climate appears to be to its increase, it bids fair to destroy in
progression most of our oldest and long-esteemed fruit from our
orchards. The same unknown decree, which regulates the increase and
decrease of all created beings, influences this insect; yet wet seasons,
upon the whole, seem ungenial to its constitution. In the hot dry summer
of 1825, it was abundant everywhere; in the spring of 1826, which was
unusually fine and dry, it abounded in such incredible luxuriance, that
many trees seemed at a short distance as if they had been whitewashed;
in the ensuing summer, which was a very dry and hot one, this cottony
matter so entirely disappeared, that to superficial observation the
malady was not in existence; and it did not become manifest again until
September, when, after the rains of that season, it reissued in fine,
cottony patches from the old nodes on the trees. Many remedies have been
proposed for removing this evil, efficacious perhaps in some cases upon
a small scale; but when the injury has existed for some time, and
extended its influence over the parts of a large tree, I apprehend it
will take its course, and the tree die. Upon young plants, and in places
where a brush can be applied, any substance that can be used in a liquid
state, to harden into a coat, insoluble by rain, will assuredly confine
the ravages of the creature, and smother it. Hard rubbing with a dry
brush crushes many, but there are crevices into which the bristle cannot
enter: thus some escape, and the propagation continues. I have very
successfully removed this blight from young trees, and from recently
attacked places in those more advanced, by an easy application. Melt
about three ounces of resin in an earthen pipkin, take it from the fire,
and pour into it three ounces of fish oil; the ingredients perfectly
unite, and, when cold, acquire the consistence of honey. A slight degree
of heat will liquefy it, and in this state paint over every node or
infected part in your tree, using a common painter’s brush. This I
prefer doing in spring, or as soon as the hoariness appears. The
substance soon sufficiently hardens, and forms a varnish, which prevents
any escape, and stifles the individuals. After this first dressing,
should any cottony matter appear round the margin of the varnish, a
second application to these parts will, I think, be found to effect a
perfect cure.
The prevalence of this insect gives some of our orchards here the
appearance of numerous white posts in an extensive drying ground, being
washed with lime from root to branch—a practice I apprehend attended
with little benefit; a few creatures may be destroyed by accident, but
as the animal does not retire to the earth, but winters in the clefts of
the boughs far beyond the influence of this wash, it remains uninjured,
to commence its ravages again when spring returns.
Seasons arrive and pass away, the general features alone remaining
impressed upon our minds; but they often produce consequences not
commonly expected, and a departed summer or winter has frequently been
the cause of some event, which we consider as exclusively occasioned by
atmospheric changes, or present temperature. A warm dry summer generally
occasions a healthy spring blossom the ensuing year, the bearing wood
being ripened and matured to produce in its most perfect state. A wet,
damp one usually effects the reverse, by occasioning an abundant flow of
sap, producing wood and foliage rather than blossom; and the following
spring, in such cases, from the floral vigor being diverted, has
generally its blossom weak, and, though perhaps not defective,
incompetent to mature the germen. This is mere reasoning upon general
consequences; but so imperfect are our theories, and so many
circumstances counteract the calculations, the predictions of human
wisdom, which can rarely even “discern the face of the sky,” that
results must more often be looked for than known. The recording of
events is the province of the naturalist; and perhaps occasionally by
comparing existing circumstances with past events, something
approximating to probability may be obtained. The two burning summers of
1825 and 1826 are remembered by all; but it was in the succeeding year
only, that the result of this heat and drought was manifested to us, by
effects upon our pasture lands, which we did not expect. Not only in
those on the limestone substratum, but in many that were sandy, and in
the clayey which were chapped by the heat, the roots of the grasses,
which we have generally considered as not being subject to such
injuries, were destroyed in some cases, and greatly injured in others;
and in their places frequently sprang up crowfeet (ranunculus acris, and
bulbosus), and dandelions, a mere useless vegetation, which, as long as
the grasses flourished, were kept in subordination and obscurity by
their superior growth; while bare patches in other places told us of
aridity and failure: the meadow grass (poa) and ray grass (lolium
perenne) were great sufferers; the dog’s tail (cynosurus) supported
itself better; the cockfoot (dactylis), though not killed, was so much
hurt, that its ensuing vegetation, instead of the coarse luxuriance it
generally manifests, was dry, hard, and deficient in succulency, or, as
our laborers emphatically say, was “stunned;” and bent-grass (agrostis
vulgaris), that certain indicator of a dry soil, appeared more than it
commonly does. But this destruction of the roots in very many places was
not obvious, the turf, as it was, remaining; yet some injury was
apparent in the succeeding summer and autumn. The crop cut for hay was
unusually abundant, and seemed to have exhausted the roots by its
growth, as no aftergrass sprang up; nor did the pastures which were fed
afford more than a dry, hard, yellow provender, looking tanned, as if
seared by severe frost; and in September, when in general we expect our
fields to yield an abundance of grass, as food for months, they
presented commonly the aspect of hard-fed lands in March, though so much
rain had fallen, both in July and August, as to lead us to expect
profusion. It did not appear that the roots had actually perished; which
could not have been the case, by producing the mowing crops that they
did; but this was a single effort: the injury was manifested by the
deficiency of the autumnal vigor; this was the actual result, difficult
as it is to assign a satisfactory reason. Perhaps these effects upon our
pasture lands were unprecedented: but these things pass away, unless
recorded; and though we may resort to the oldest memory for evidence,
yet memory is oblivious, often exaggerative, and cannot safely be
trusted.
June and July, 1825.—The quantity of that sweet clammy fluid, which we
find upon certain leaves, and commonly call “honey-dew,” was more than
usually abundant during these months. In the day-time, bees, wasps, and
tribes of flies collected to feed upon it, and in the evenings, moths
and insects of the night frequented the fruit trees on our walls,
particularly the cherry and the plum, for the same purpose, and their
presence brought the bat, so that some places were animated by the
flitting about of these creatures. Aphides abounded upon all the young
sprays.
June 17, 1828.—Abundance of rain has fallen during the preceding night,
and in the morning of this day, about two o’clock, the sun broke out,
the air becoming hot and heavy. I was soon surprised by observing
multitudes of hive-bees buzzing and crawling about the foliage and young
shoots of my laurel bushes (prunus laurocerasus), and feeding upon some
sweet matter lodged on them; the blossoms had long before fallen off: no
aphides frequent this plant, nor were there any trees near them from
whence any sweet matter might have fallen; we have no honey-dew upon our
fruit trees, and an aphis is scarcely to be found. Has any saccharine
matter fallen, or been emitted by the plant to entice these insects to
harbor about them? It clearly appears that honey-dews arise from two
causes; that a large portion of it is the discharges from insects of the
genus aphis, has long since been manifested by the Abbé Sauvages, Mr.
Curtis, and others: insects discharge in all days and hours during the
warm months of the year. But there is another kind which we find only at
particular times, and in certain states of the atmosphere, lodged on
certain plants during the night in such quantities as to hang
occasionally in drops from the points of the leaves. The foliage of the
oak is at times lucid with this sweet liquor, and this the bees are soon
acquainted with, and eagerly collect it, which they only partially do
when spread upon the leaves on the wall, the evident discharge of
aphides. Some of my neighbors who have hives will occasionally observe,
“A heavy honey-dew last night, and the bees are hard at work;” this
cannot proceed from insect discharges. That some foliage may condense
any matter that may fall upon it, is not improbable; or even excrete it
from their pores by the impellent power of the air in certain states, is
to be conceived; but all this is conjectural, and our knowledge of the
causes which produce these partial honey-dews is yet to be acquired.
In the years 1825 and 1826, the foliage of our hedges in the spring
months was unusually mangled by the caterpillars of different moths; but
in 1827 these creatures had increased so much, that the entire leaves of
the sloe, and the white thorn, were consumed by them; the hedges, when
consisting of these shrubs alone, presented for miles the appearance of
winter sprays, covered with a cottony web. The other hedge plants were
little injured. The larvæ of several species of small creatures were
concerned in this annihilation of verdure; but the little ermine moths
(phalæna evonymella, and ph. padella) were the chief performers in this
denuding process. In July the perfected moths swarmed about the scene of
their birth in vast numbers; yet such was the retrieving power of
nature, that by the middle of August only a small portion of the injury
occasioned by these creatures was to be observed, the summer shoot
bursting out, and covering the sprays with the verdure of spring. The
chief singularity in all this was the appearance of the sloe bush, all
the foliage being consumed by insects, or crisped away by severe winds,
leaving the sprays profusely covered with the small young fruit,
perfectly uninjured, and proceeding in its growth; so that, by the time
the foliage was renewed in August, it had obtained its usual size. This
was the case too with the crab, and some of the orchard fruits,
presenting the unusual sight of fruit growing alone on the boughs
without leaves; so that in fact the offices of inspiration,
transpiration, and all their consequences, usually accomplished by the
leaves of plants, must have been suspended, or performed by other
organs, as no deficiency of vegetative powers was apparent.
But insects alone were not the cause of all the denudation and unsightly
appearance which our orchards and other trees so remarkably presented
this year; for the destruction of the foliage was accomplished in part
by some malignant influences, not well understood. Like the Egyptian
king, we are accustomed to attribute all our evils of this nature to the
“blasting of the _east_ wind;” yet we find all aspects and places
obnoxious to it; one situation may be exempted for a period of many
years from such visitations, when others suffer; on a sudden, a partial
or a local stream of hot, cold, salt, or what we denominate a
pestilential wind, sweeps along, and it is destroyed.
Surrounded by and situate in the midst of an agricultural district, we
are eager and persevering “leasers” here; and it becomes in a certain
degree profitable to our poor, though they cannot hope, like the dutiful
Ruth, to gather their three pecks and over in a day. It may be difficult
to comprehend how the picking up a head of corn here, and another there,
should be a remunerative employ; but in this case, like all other slow
operations, a distant result, rather than an instant effect, must be
looked for. I have found some little difficulty in obtaining
intelligence sufficient to acquire a knowledge of the gain by this
employ. The poor are often jealous and suspicious of the motives, when
any attempts are made to procure information regarding their profits or
improvements; and indeed the advantages of one year are uncertain in
another. Catching, doubtful seasons, when the farmer collects in haste,
and is unmindful of trifles, afford the best harvest to the gleaner. In
fine, settled weather, the operation of reaping is conducted with more
deliberation, and less corn is scattered about. When a woman with two or
three active children lease in concert, it becomes a beneficial employ.
I have heard of a family in the parish thus engaged, who have in one
season obtained eight bushels of clear wheat; but this was excess. I
know a single woman also, who has gleaned in the same period four
bushels and a half; but this again was under very favorable and partial
circumstances. In general, a good leaser is satisfied, if she can
obtain, single-handed, a clear three bushels in the season, which gives
her about a bushel in the week; and, if taken at seven shillings, is
very reasonable, and far from being any great accession or profit—less
perhaps than is generally supposed to be the emolument of the gleaner;
and this may have been acquired by the active labor of eight or nine
hours. Yet such is the ardor for this occupation, the enjoyment of this
full association, with their neighbors, the prattle, the gossip, the
glee, the excitement it occasions, that I am sure the allowance of
fourteen pence a day, certain and constant, would hardly be accepted by
my leasing neighbors in place of it. Indeed I would not offer it,
believing that this gleaning season is looked forward to with anxiety
and satisfaction; and is a season, too, in which the children of the
family can contribute to its support without pain or undue exertion; and
viewing with much approbation and pleasure this long-established custom
as a relaxation from domestic refinement, when every cottage is locked
up and abandoned by its inmates, to pursue this innocent, healthful,
laudable employ, where every grain that is collected is saved from
waste, and converted to the benefit of a needy and laborious community.
From the result of the pauper leasing, no bad criterion may be obtained
of the general product of the season; for, as the collection is made
from many stations, and variety of culture, these samples of all afford
a reasonable average of the quality. It has been thought, but I trust
and believe only in the apprehension of evil, that leasing is injurious
to the morals of the poor, affording them an opportunity and initiating
them in petty pilfering; but if the disposition existed, it could be
practicable but in very few instances; mutual jealousy would prevent
individual success, and immediate detection would follow the filching of
numbers. The commencement of many ceremonies and solemnities is lost by
perversion, or in the obscurity of years; the stream of habit may
trickle on from age to age, till it flows in time a steady current, yet
the original source remain unknown: but this custom of gleaning the
remnant of the field we know existed from the earliest periods, three
thousand years and upwards for certain; for, if it were not then first
instituted, it was secured and regulated by an especial ordinance of the
Almighty to the Israelites in the wilderness, as a privilege to be fully
enjoyed by the poor of the land, whenever their triumphant armies should
enter into possession of Canaan. By this law, the leasing of three
products was granted to the destitute inhabitants of the soil,—the
olive, the grape-vine, and corn; the olive-tree was to be beaten but
once; the scattered grape in the vintage was not to be gathered; and in
the field where the corn grew, “clean riddance” was not to be made, the
corners were to be left unreaped, and even the forgotten sheaf was not
to be fetched away by the owner, but to be left for the “poor and the
stranger the fatherless and the widow.” This was not simply declared
once, as an act of mercy, but enjoined and confirmed by ordinances
thrice repeated, and impressed with particular solemnity; “I am the Lord
thy God,” I have given thee all, and I command unreserved obedience to
this my appointment.