MEADOW-FARM: A TALE OF ASSOCIATION.

BY THE AUTHOR OF 'EDWARD ALFORD AND HIS PLAYFELLOW.'

CHAPTER FIFTH.

'The common notion has been, that the mass of the people need no other culture than is necessary to fit them for their various trades; and though this error is passing away, it is far from being exploded.'

'Self-Culture:' Channing.

The cultivation of the soil is the most easily learned of any art. It is falsely supposed that a certain degree of obtuseness, roughness, clod-hopper ignorance, is essential to the farmer; that intelligence, refinement, and science are poorly applied to agriculture. This is the impression that farmers themselves have; and as a body they mistrust the advantages of education as applied to their occupation. The cause of this impression may be traced to the fact, that most of the scientific farmers sink money in carrying on their farms, while they who doggedly plough, plant, and dig, as their fathers did before them, lay up money yearly. These successful men sneer at the gentleman-farmer, and deride his science; and his yearly losses only confirm them the more strongly in their previous habits. Now they might be told that this gentleman farmer expects from the beginning to sink money; that he has taken up the cultivation of the land for amusement, health, or scientific experiment; that his object is not to make money, but to gratify his taste, or perhaps benefit the general farming interest of the country by his failures. It can easily be understood that a very erroneous notion of the value of science, as applied to agriculture, is likely to be drawn from such instances, and how the true farmer comes to mistrust the spirit of modern improvement.

It is pretty well understood among farmers that no man can succeed in their employment who hires his labor. The price of products is so low that wages consume all the profits. And yet there is a great deal of labor hired on the land by those who have lately begun to cultivate it; and the farmer should know that these persons can afford to lose five or six hundred dollars a year, and that they expect to do so, while learning the art of country life, and still be better off than they would had they continued in commerce at a yearly loss of as many thousands.

Much surprise is often expressed by those unacquainted with the facts, that the farm-houses of the country look so rough; that more attention is not bestowed upon the cultivation of shade-trees and pleasure-grounds. Why, they ask, are the houses unpainted? why is it that the farmer's horse and cattle look as if they never felt the curry-comb? His harness looks as if it were never washed, and the owner himself only shaves on Sundays! Oh! farming must be a horrid business! So dirty! such smells! and so slovenly! It will do well enough in poetry and pictures, but Heaven preserve us from this harrowing, dung-heaving life!

It must be confessed that the first business of the tiller of the soil is to attend to his crops, his wheat-fields and corn-fields; to think more of the fences around his pasture-lands than the flower-garden before his house. He must think first of these, and afterward of ornament. It must be confessed that the man who makes money or who keeps his farm from running him in debt, 'in these times,' must rise in the morning with his 'boys,' eat with them and work with them. He must wear a coarse frock and thick boots, and lead a rough but a healthful life. And we aver that the smell of the barn-yard is like a bed of violets, when compared with the reeking gutters of the city, and that the very gentlemen who take a pride in eating cheese all alive, turn up their noses with a poor grace of consistency at the earth-worms the plough-share turns up in the furrow.

It is worse than idle for any man to expect to better his condition in a pecuniary point of view, by turning gentleman farmer. If a person have a fortune already, he may lay out pleasure-grounds, fence in parks, make experiments in crops, try crosses in breeds of cattle, and set out trees for shade and scenery, and thus gratify his taste, and possibly make some discovery for others to benefit by; but in his own case he will lose money; probably he expects it. What would any one think of a gentleman warrior or gentleman poet? that is, of a man who should hire all his fighting done or all his verses made. If success only crowns individual, personal exertion in all other matters, how is it that in this alone, in the primitive occupation of mankind, men expect it, without putting their own hand to the plough, and girding themselves for the labor? It is a common remark among husbandmen that he who works with his 'hands' gets double the amount of work out of them compared with him who only gives his orders and waits until they are accomplished. The general must lead his troops to victory; he must endanger his own life if he would infuse bravery into the hearts of his soldiers; and this principle is not inapplicable to the 'boss' of the farm.

The snow was not yet off the earth when Rufus Gilbert and his companions reached their new home in Landsgrove. It was one of those late seasons when winter departs tardily and reluctantly, but which almost always repay the farmer by a year of abundance. Vegetation, when it does begin to appear, shoots up as if by magic, and hardly has the snow melted from off the hills before flowers are in blossom all over the valleys. But we must attempt to give the reader some idea of the situation of the place at which they had arrived.

The Green Mountains run north and south nearly in the centre of the State of Vermont, on the west sloping toward Lake Champlain, the Otter Creek river, and the eastern tributaries of the Hudson, and on the east to the Connecticut river. The ascent begins on the eastern side almost as soon as you leave the river. At whatever point you attempt to cross the State, you meet hills which rise in regular succession, until you reach the summit of the ridge. The villages lie mostly in the valleys, although some are perched like watch-towers on the elevations or table-lands of the mountains.

A small river runs through the southern part of the town of Landsgrove, on its way to join the Connecticut. Here it rushes through a narrow gap in the hills, in which its course was undoubtedly once confined, where it formed a lake, now changed into a broad extent of rich meadow land. All about this little amphitheatre the hills rise, sometimes abruptly, and, on the north, by regular steps or plats of table-land. It was upon one of these latter that Rufus had built his house, fronting the south, and overlooking the whole extent of the farm he had purchased.

Human contrivance could hardly have planned a situation so agreeable to the eye, or one better suited to the purpose for which he had made the purchase. Completely shut out from the rest of the world, and yet near enough for all objects of trade and convenience, he owned the whole of this little valley, with enough of the upland for grazing. The widening of the river still left a small lake or pond in the centre of his domain, well stocked by nature with the daring trout which wanders fearlessly up the waterfalls in search of food; and this little sheet of water added much to the beauty of the prospect. The house, on an elevation itself, was protected by still higher land from the cutting north winds, and the plain on which it stood was just large enough for barns, out-buildings, and a garden plat.

Our adventurers had enough to do from the very day of their arrival to improve the snow-paths in drawing in their wood for the next season; for the farmer must always be one year in advance of the elements, and during one winter draws and cuts his wood for the succeeding one. All hands were summoned to assist in this their first united task. One felled the proper trees, taking care to leave the sap-trees, the sugar-maple, untouched; others, the weaker, drove the team and helped to load and unload, while the Stewarts cut the wood into the proper sled length, eight feet. In this form it was taken near the house and piled up, ready to be prepared, at odd moments of time, for fuel. And even in this simple operation, at the close of their first day's labor, they were all astonished at the amount of work which had been accomplished. Each one, having an allotted part to perform, acquired new skill every hour, and no time was lost in changing from one kind of work to another. One man, with the lever power, can lift large logs on to a sled, and do his work alone; but he cannot do one fourth as much as four men can perform in the same time, because he loses time in adjusting a more complicated apparatus. He not only uses the lever, but rolls the logs on an inclined plane, and these must be taken up and put down again for every stick of timber, while the four men, at one effort, lift it at once upon the sled. The mechanical powers enable one man to do alone what he could not do at all without their assistance; but the advantage of their application is by no means universal. On ship-board they are of incalculable service, standing in the place of seamen, whose maintenance and room is of great relative value; for by means of the capstan, ten men can raise an anchor, which, without it, one hundred men could not start; and two men will run up a sail with a pulley, which would resist the strength of many hands. Now any one can see that to keep one hundred men solely to raise the anchor and run up the sails, and who could not in the intervals be employed profitably otherwise, would be a great expense. But on a farm, if it be large enough, no hour is lost; so that ten men united will accomplish more than ten times as much as one man working alone, with all the mechanical power he can bring to his assistance. And as the mechanical powers when combined are capable by one pound of power of lifting millions of pounds' weight, so the force, strength, and capacities of men may be so arranged and systematized, the second acting on the results of the first, and the third on the second, and so on, to produce effects which individual actors would never dream of.

Unimportant as this first effort of their united labor might seem, all the young men were highly delighted with their success, and as they met in the common hall of the house at supper, Ruth, Clara, and the mother of the Stewarts had a story to tell about the expedition with which all domestic affairs had been arranged. One had taken supervision of the sleeping-rooms, another of the kitchen furniture, and a third had arranged the library, as it was called, a room which was to answer the threefold purpose of school-room, chapel, and lecture-hall. The woodmen returned to find every thing in order, a plentiful supper spread for their repast, and smiling faces all around the board; as people are always cheerful when they have done good actions.

Rufus Gilbert, as he sat at the head of the full table, for they numbered fourteen souls, and glanced at the happy countenances of his friends, felt as if his experiment was no longer doubtful. The party lingered long over the table, which each one might feel was his own, talking of the various duties of the next day, of the friends they had left; and the infant delight of two orphan children Rufus had brought with him, whom the novelty of the scene excited to ask a thousand questions, was not repressed amid the general satisfaction. Their impressions were listened to with attention, their inquiries answered, and the little fellows became careful what they said, when they found that their careless words were replied to in earnest. At length, when the company had separated for the night, all except Rufus and Philip, who were too full of hope to regard fatigue, the two young men drew together before the fire, to compare their impressions of their progress, each afraid to speak first, lest the other should think him extravagant; but Philip could not be silent.

'The happiest day of my life!' at length broke from him.

'And of mine!' responded Rufus.

'Brother, friend, let us thank God for this hour!' said Philip, grasping the hand of Rufus, 'for preserving us along our journey, for bringing us together to this peaceful home, in health and strength; for my heart is too full for any words but prayer.'

'Most cheerfully and devoutly,' said Rufus. And the brothers knelt together, and Philip prayed for all beneath their roof; and not alone for them, but for the poor, the oppressed, the ignorant, and the destitute in all lands. They rose from their knees calmer and better prepared to talk together.

'I have read somewhere,' said Rufus in the course of their conversation, 'and the remark struck me as forcible at the time, that men ought to mistrust too favorable beginnings. If in any undertaking every thing goes very smoothly at first, if no obstacles meet you, no misgivings cloud you, you may be sure there is something wrong in your plan. And this quaint writer then remarks, to support his theory, that the early blossoms are apt to be nipped by the frost.'

'And the Scripture hath it still more pointedly; indeed, what very wise or very true saying has not a parallel passage in the Bible? I have often thought that a most interesting book might be made, showing how much even Shakspere accords with the sacred page.'

'The Bible was once read more thoughtfully than it is now,' said Rufus; 'it made a more important part of the instruction of the youth; its words fell with a deeper accent upon the heart of the young man; it was handled reverently and read devoutly. Shakspere must have been familiar with it, or himself divinely inspired.'

'Then you argue failure from our happiness to-night,' said Philip.

'No, but let us study caution; you did not hear me out, for I have a commentary to make. Early success makes men heedless; obstacles and difficulties render them thoughtful and wary. But it is better not to be excited with our first gains, and then we shall have no need of this severe training. Think of this. I will think of it myself; good night' Having succeeded in cooling his own ardor by attempting to bring Philip's feelings down to temperate heat, with a meaning smile on his face, Rufus retired to repose.

CHAPTER SIXTH.

THE SUGAR CAMP.

'There might you have beheld one joy crown another.'—The Winter's Tale.

As soon as the snow began to melt, another important item of the spring work of the Vermont farmer demanded the attention of the household; no less a business than the making of maple sugar. To this all hands repair, in expectation of many a sweet lump not only of sugar, but of a taste of cherry lips and rosy cheeks. The lads and lasses of the green mountain region begin to lick their lips about the middle of March. The season of the frolic varies many weeks in different years. When warm spring days are succeeded by cool, freezing nights, when the light snows begin to fall, called the 'poor man's manure,' from an idea, true or false, that they fertilize the land, then the sap begins to run, and all hie to the sugar-camp to work and play by turns.

The place selected for operations is often near a clump of hemlock trees, amid whose thick branches a temporary shelter is erected. Boards, straw, and buffalo robes secure a warm and deep sleep after the excitement of the sugaring. Blazing fires burn up here and there, over which the huge kettles, containing the sap, are suspended on cross sticks, replenished now and then from the extempore buckets, troughs roughly hewn in blocks of hard wood, which hang to receive the drippings, drop by drop, from the incisions made in the tree. After it has been boiled to a proper consistency, it is suffered to cool, and with no more labor, becomes the famous maple sugar, the delight of all children and many full-grown people. It is run in fanciful moulds, and easily assumes any shape when in a moist, warm state. The Indians prepare it in bark, curiously ornamented with quill work and beads, and sell it to travellers at an exorbitant price.

Since the abolition movement, many of the members of which society make a virtue of consuming nothing raised by slave-labor, this sugar has become a more important article of trade, and the trees which produce it are guarded with great care. The temperance cause, too, is giving it a new value, as many have the idea that spirit cannot be extracted from it so well as from the West India molasses, which favorite 'sweet'ning' of the Yankee is getting into disrepute with the ultras; a fact which speaks louder for their zeal than their knowledge. So it is engaged in as a serious matter of profit, and the hilarity and fun that once were ripe in the sugar-camp is departed. In former days it yielded not to husking frolics in enjoyment; it was the vintage of the north; but those days are gone, with many a simple custom and innocent pastime which the spirit of modern improvement is frowning down.

Formerly the expedition lasted several days, and the sugar-makers slept in the woods; now the increased population of the State affords a house near to the orchards. Our friends were determined to make the most of the time, and Rufus was glad of a little amusement for the band, but newly leagued together, to wean the thoughts of the home-loving from their old to their new abode; to create pleasant associations about the place not yet honored with a name.

As soon as a light fall of snow was succeeded by a warm, sunshiny day, they all repaired to the woods, and a thrifty clump of trees having been found, commenced their work. The place was not a mile from their house, but a hut was erected as for a regular, old-fashioned encampment, and conveniences for sleeping were not forgotten. And it was well they were not omitted, for late in the afternoon, as they were thinking of returning home, there burst upon them a crowd of visitors from the neighboring settlements, who had waited for this time to make their introduction to their neighbors, wisely choosing a day of merriment, when the heart is open, to spur on their own bashfulness and insure a cordial reception.

If any one is surprised that the news of the contemplated gathering should get abroad so quickly, he has only to live in the country to discover that it is in vain to attempt secrecy in any thing. Whether birds, dogs, or cats carry news, we will not pretend to say; but all we know is, that one may gain information to any extent about any body, who is worth the notice, in a country village. The fact proves the skill that may be acquired in any art by persevering industry, and the fact is all we can state, leaving the wonder unsolved still, for the future investigation of some writer upon the mysteries of human life in general.

We say it was well the sleeping-berths were not omitted, for so numerous was the gathering, that when night drew on, our friends found that beside taking up all the spare beds in the house, and leaving a goodly number in the hut, they should be obliged to give others a bed in the barn, on the hay-mow. But to this the Vermonter does not object, occasionally, when on a frolic; and, indeed, one very essential part of a frolic in the country, and in the city, and in every place, is the doing of things, not better, more joyously and handsomely than usual, but differently. If a man sleep on feathers at home, and in a carpetted room, and eat with a silver fork, it is a frolic to him to eat with his fingers, drink from large leaves, and find rest even in a barn.

The hospitality with which the visiters were greeted, the trouble of having their home turned upside down, for one night, was no loss in any sense to the band; for on the next morning, as the day was favorable, they all turned out to assist in making sugar in earnest; and, before they departed, left the most ample proof of their good wishes and sense of Rufus's kindness. One remembered that he had brought a keg of butter in his sleigh, which his father had sent, begging Mr. Gilbert's acceptance; another unloaded baskets full of dried apples, as his offering of friendship with the new neighbors; a third, a brawny youth of eighteen, was tugging to lift alone a barrel of something from his sleigh, to show his strength to the girls; (every Green Mountain boy being required, before he can be considered marriageable, to load and unload his barrel of cider;) a task rather beyond his powers. John Stewart stepped forward to assist him, and asked the nature of the contents that made his lift so heavy.

'Some of our best cider; the first run from the orchard greenins,' said the youth.

'We drink no such stuff here,' said John; 'but Mr. Gilbert will be very glad to take it to make into vinegar.'

'Vinegar!' exclaimed the young man, opening his eyes to be certain he was not dreaming, 'make that cider into vinegar! It won't be made into vinegar. You might bring all the teetotallers at once to look sour at it; swear at it; damn it up hill and down, and finally keep it into the middle of eternity, and then pour out a mug, and it would sparkle as bright as ever.'

It was touching the young farmer on a tender point to speak disparagingly of his cider; and this has been the great obstacle to be got over in the Temperance reform. Thousands have refused to have any thing to do with the cause, because cider was forbidden in the pledge; and in our opinion the bigots in this cause (for Temperance has its bigots as well as other causes) have presented the question in an untenable form. They have attempted to show that a natural fruit of our region, which cannot be preserved for any length of time, except by expressing the juice, which is slightly mixed with alcohol, is a deadly poison. Now the farmer who has hundreds of bushels of apples yearly, beside those which are fitted to keep sound, knows no other course than to make them into cider; and he argues that the natural product of the soil on which he dwells cannot be a poison; he knows that the spirit, as he calls it, meaning the alcoholic principle, in the juice of the apple, preserves it; and when the Temperance apostle comes to him and tells him that this gift of God is a rank poison, he is disgusted with the whole subject, and doubts the sincerity and honesty of those who really are the friends of man, and who are laboring at a pecuniary loss for his and others' good.

The course of Rufus was quite otherwise. The noise attracted the attention of the whole party, and twenty or more young farmers gathered about the youth, who stood over his barrel of cider, ready to support its merits.

'Thank your father in my name,' said Rufus, approaching the place, 'for his kind offer. We will accept it gladly, and doubt not it is as good cider as any in Vermont; he no doubt will suffer us to use it in any way we please.' The opportunity was too favorable to be lost; so he went on to explain why he did not drink it, and the league which had been made with his companions, which in short hand amounted to this.

All the gifts of Providence are good in their place. Men have the power of perverting the blessings of Heaven to curses. It sometimes becomes necessary to abstain from innocent acts, because others deduce wrong inferences from them. Cider and wine, which in their nature contain alcohol, when drank in moderation, are salutary to health, and are nourishing to the body; but we agree to abstain from them because it is dangerous for those whose constitutions have been debilitated by intemperance to indulge in these luxuries. They bring back the old disease in such cases. And as Paul said he would eat no meat (a thing good in itself) if his doing so caused his brother to offend, so we have agreed to deny ourselves cider and wine, for the sake of our fellow-men.

It was evident from the looks of all, that they cared more for the reputation of their cider than for the liquor itself; and when Rufus had finished his remarks, the youth who had brought the barrel was the first to propose that it be emptied upon the ground. It was done with a shout; and so much influence had the words of Rufus, that, with one accord, they all joined in a compact, on the spot, to abstain from cider and all intoxicating drinks. Never did a sugar party terminate more agreeably or profitably for all concerned.