mw IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^ 4rj m. I. I.I 1.25 £ vs. 1.4 IIM IIM I— 1.6 <^ W /A '/a e. vV^ 7 •^w wtem &?/ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d6col. rdes, tachet6es ou piqu6es Tight binding (may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin)/ Reiiure serr6 (peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int^rieure) L'institut a microfilmd le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. 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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul cliche sont filmdes d partir de Tangle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 HOME THE CANADIAN HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. x^fi ^ 221 Home, c ^ ^m m THE ART OF Mi^ ETIQUKTTE SCIENCE OIVINO THE MOST COJl THE MAI GOODWJ A TREATISE ON^ARITHS OF MERCA THl' FARM : ] THE BUI G A mm J. S. R( 27 THE CANADIAN Home, Farm and Business cyclopedia. ^ ^vcnsurt) nf Useful unb Entertaining S^notolebgc ON THE ART OF MAKING HOME HAPPY, AND AN AID IN SELF-EDUCATION ; THK LAWS OF ETIQUETTE AND GOOD SOCIETY ; HOME AMUSEMENTS; OUT-DOOR SPORTS, AND OTHER INTERESTING MATTERS OF SOCIAL AND EDUCATIONAL VALUE. K THE SCIENCE AND PRACTICE OF FARMING: WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO CANADA; OIVING THE MOST COMPLETE AND PRACTICAL INFORMATION ON THE CULTURE OF THE SOIL; THE MANAGEMENT OP FARM ANIMALS, THE ERECTION OF FARM BUILDINGS, THE GARDEN, Etc., Etc. ALS. GOODWIN'S PRACTICE BOOK-KEEPING A TREATISE ON^ARITHMETIC, PENMANSHIP, FORMS OF BUSINESS CORRESPONDENCE; A DIGEST OF MERCANTILE LAW, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS. THl' FARM DEPARTMENT, SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK, BY PROF. WILLIAM BROWN, 0/ the Ontario ExpevimerUal Fa^tn, Guelph. THE BUSINESS DEPARTMENT UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF GEORGE MACLEAN ROSE, Ex-President of the Board of Trade, Toronto. THE ENTIRE WORK CAREFULLY EDITED BY A SYNDICATE OF CANADIAN SPECIALISTS. HANDSOMELY ILLUSTRATED. ^orottta anb SEhitbn : J. S. ROBERTSON AND BROTHERS. 1884. C3i 165509 Entrrsd according to Act of the Par- liament of Canada, in the year one thousand ei);ht hundred and eighty-three, by Huntbr, Robr & Co., in tha office of the Minister of Agriculture. PBIk'TKI) AND BOUND BY HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY, 25 Wklmnqton St. West. COl Fa All could turn in any nish — facts relative sures, and the mea: hanced. To obtai through many voh Here it will be foui read and understoo( doubt be apprecia A leference to th covers. Rarely wit! been so usefully con the reader, no one c facts that may be u The Canadian its opening chapter.* contributes to home and home amusemei Large space is tal society, for the bene! for the information c personal advantage. these matters are soi <:ircumsta,nces. To a PEEFACE. 'HE Editors' aims in the preparation of the Canadian Home, Farm, and Business Cylop^icdia have been thoroughly practical. Their motive wa« to place within the reach of every householder a treasury of reference in all that concerns the Home and its affairs. Business Life and its duties, and such information as great practical experience could suggest in the cultivation and management of the Farm. Almost every one has felt the need of a work to which one could turn in any difficulty for just such facts as this Cyclopaedia will fur- nish — facts relative to the concerns of every day life, its duties and its plea- sures, and the means by which the former is lightened and the latter en- hanced. To obtain this information has hitherto involved the search through many volumes, which could only be acquired at much expense. Here it will be found in a concise and well-arranged compendium, ' to be read and understood of all men ; " and the assistance afforded will no doubt be appreciated. A reference to the contents will show what a field of inquiry the work covers. Rarely within the scope of a single volume have so many subjects been so usefully compressed : with such a wealth of material presented to the reader, no one can fail to find either what he is in search of, or some facts that may be useful to him through life. The Canadian Home, Farm, and Business Cyclopedia, besides its opening chapters on Home Amenities, will be found replete in all that contributes to home education, home arts, home })leasures, home comforts, and home amusements. Large space is taken up with social forms and the usages of polite society, for the benefit of those of both sexes, who seek to shine in it, and for the information of all who desire to appear in the world to the highest personal advantage. Even those who are well informed in respect to these matters are sometimes at. a loss to know what to do under certain circumste.nces. To all such this department of the work must be welcome. R IV PREFACE. The important matter of health, and how to preserve it ; what to Jo in the case of illness ; with hints in regard to cooking, carving, and other homo accomplishments, will be found to have had attention. Driving, riding, swimming, rowing, and other physical exercises, have also been treated of, as have dancing, and in-door and out-door amusements. Much space has also been devoted to educational, commercial, and legal affairs, which can hardly fail to be of the utmost value. Book-keeping, as It deserved, has been given special prominence, while arithmetic, penraan- ,ship, and the forms of business correspondenoe hijive been fully illustrated. The digest of mercantile law, and the forms of legal documents must be acceptable additions to the book, as must also the complete letter-writer, and the various forms of social invitation. The Farm Department has been specially edited by Prof. W. Brown, Superintendent of the Experimental Farm, Guelph, than whom there is no better authority on this special subject in the Dominion. His own preface will be found in the book. The whole work, it is believed, meets a general need, and it is offered to the Canadian public wi*h every confidence in its success. The Editors. Toronto, 1st December, lb83. I ,.,. ,ii-i '>. \». • ii.'-. •»(- The Dominion of Can Ontario Quebec Nova Scotia New Brunswick Prince Edward Islan British Columbia . . . Manitoba North-West Territori Census of the Domini Statement showing pc pal cities Statement showing th people Statement showing val importB Commerce of Dominioi Export The Amenities of Home. Difficulties in the Way A Subtile Sympathy.. . Education and Mannen lleapect for the Rights The Model Girl The Manners of Young Consideration for Each The First Engagement A Profession for our So: Professions for Women The Influence of Aged I The Capabilities of Hon Making Home Attractii The Management of Mo Proverbs, New ai;d01d. How to Preserve your Hea Air Food Cleanliness Exercise CONTENTS. HOME. PAGE The Dominion of Canada. Ontario 17 Quebec 20 Nova Scotia 22 New Brunswick 23 Prince Edward Island 23 British Columbia 2.') Manitoba 27 North-West Territories 28 ('ensus of the Dominion of Canada 29 Statement showing population of princi- pal cities 30 Statement showing the religions of the people 30 Statement showing value of exports and imports 31 Commerce of Dominion of Canada 31 Export 32 The Amenities of Home. Difficulties in the Way 33 A Subtile Sympathy 36 Education and Manners of Girls . , 38 Respect for the Rights of Others 40 TheModelGiri 43 The Manners of Young Men 46 Consideration for Each Other 50 The First Engagement 55 A Profession for our Sons 58 Professions for Women 61 The Influence of Aged People 65 The Capabilities of Home Education ... 69 Making Home Attractive 73 The Management of Money 83 Proverbs, New ai;d Old 98 How to Preserve your Healtb. Air 99 Food 101 Cleanliness 108 Exercise 110 PAQI How to Preserve yo«ir Eealth— Continued. Temperature 115 General Observations 116 Children, and How to Rear Them. Bathing 118 Sleep 119 Catching Cold 121 Teething 123 Whooping-cough 127 Vaccination 129 Fevers 130 Scarlatina 132 Ci-oup 133 Mumps 134 Diphtheria 135 Accidents 135 Cuts 136 Bums 137 Scalds 138 Bruises 138 Hints to Housekeepers. Choice of Articles of Food 139 Seasonable Food 141 Names and Situations of Joints 145 Intructions for Cooking 146 Driving. Driving a Single Horse 170 Difficult Situations for Young Drivers. . 172 Driving Two Horses . . 175 Records of Trotting Horses 177 Lacrosse and how to play it. The Original Game 179 Laws of Lacrosse 181 The Game 184 Lessons in Bicycle Riding- First Lesson 192 Second '• 193 Third " 194 Mil CONTENTS. PAGE Swimming. FloatinK on the Back 203 Swimming on the Back, Head First 204 Swimming on the Chest 206 I'he Side Stroke 207 Drowning. Preliminary Rules 208 Treatment to Jiestore Breathing 208 Treatment aft-r Natural Breathing has been Restored 211 General Observations 211 Appearances which generary indicate death from drowning 211 Cautions 212 Conundrums. (Conundrums 212 Answers to Conundrums 216 Fortune-Telling. Fortune-TellJug 219 Answers to Fortune-teller 220 1'he Oraculum or Book of Fate 221 How to work the Oraculum 222 To obtain the answer 222 Oraculum 223 Games, Forfeits, etc. Games, Forfeits, etc 223 Etiquette for Ladies. Introductions 238 Letters of J;, "oduction 240 Visiting C ards 241 Conversation 242 Dress 244 Morning and Evening Parties 247 The Dinner Party 249 Staying at a Friend's House —Breakfast 254 General Hints 255 Etiquette for Gentlemon. Introductions 257 Lett' rs of Introduction 258 Visiting— Morning Calls— Cards 259 Conversation ... 260 Promenade 262 Dress 263 Riding and Driving 264 Morning and Evening Parties 265 The Dinner Table 268 PACK Party and Ball-Room Etiquette. How to Organize a Dancing Party or Ball 273 Ball-room Toilette 27tj Etiquette of the Ball-Room 277 The Quadrille 270 First Set of Quadrilles 280 The Lancers 282 The Lancers for Sixteen, or Double Lan- cers 284 Double Quadi-ille 285 The Polka 286 The Mazurka Quadrille 290 The Valses 291 The Galop 293 Sir Roger De Coverley 29.i Etiquette of Courtship and Marriage. First Steps in Courtship What the Lady should observe during Courtship What the Gentleman should observe during Courtship Presents The Proposal Refusal by the Young I^ady Conduct of the Young Gentleman when his Addresses are rejected Refusal by the Lady's Parents or Guard- ians Conduct of the Engaged C'ouple CJonduct of the Lady during her Betrothal Conduct of the Gentleman towards the Family of his betrothed Conduct of the Lady on Retiring from her Engagement C 333 3:^3 334 334 334 334 3;{4 ;J35 335 335 335 335 336 336 336 336 337 337 337 PA OK The Letter Writer- Continutd. A Few Lines accompanyii g a Gift 337 Christening Gift 337 Flowers 338 Music 338 Various Forms of Invitation.s, Cards, etc 338 Speeches A Public Officer, on retiring, is presented with a Souvenir 'MA Reply 344 The Ladies :M4 Presentation to a Public Official 345 " to a Teacher 346 A Bachelor 347 The Host 347 A Distinguished Guest 347 Wedding Day Anniversary ;M8 Crystal Wedding .'i48 Silver Wedding 34'J Golden Wedding 34!) Congratulating a Candidate 350 The Rules of Debate and how to Conduct One. Organizing Associations 351 Forms of Constitution;! 352 Rules of Order 354 Miscellaneous Tables. Herschel's Weather Table 36«J Foreign Governments 367 Population of Principal Cities of the Old World 308 Number of Plants per Acre 368 How to Estimate Crops i>er Acre 368 A Mile Measure 368 The Creeds of the World 368 The Principal Countries of the World, their Population. Religion and Gov- ernment 31)0 Names and their significations 361) Facts about the Bible 371 Height of Noted Monuments aud Build- ings 372 Time rfctjuired to Roast Various Articles of Food 372 The Time recjuired to Boil Various Ar- ticles of Food 372 Capacity of Noted Churches and Halls.- 372 Velocity of Soimd aud Light 372 Oceans, Sea?, Bays, and Lakes 373 Value of Foreign Money 373 How to make a Barometer or Weather Glass 373 Origin of Plants 374 CONTENTS. THE FARM. AGRICULTURE : ITS SCIENCE AND PRACTICE, WITH SPECIAL REFERENCH TO CANADA. I'AOE Introduction 377 The Agriculture of the Past. The Agriculture of the Past 379 The Agriculture of To-day in North America. The Agriculture of To-day in North America 388 The Soil of the Farm. Origin of Soils 390 Formation of Soils 391 Distribution of Soils 394 Physical Properties of Soils 39!S Classification of Soils 405 The Obemlstry of the Farm. The Chemistry of the Ferm 407 The Chemistry of Crops 414 The Weight and Average Consumption of Ordinary Crops in pounds i)er acre 41.'> The Botany of the Farm. The Botany of the Farm 420 Natural System of Classification 42S The Growth of Plants 431 The Farm and Meteorology. The Farm and Meteorology 436 The CultlTatiou of Trees as Affecting the Farm. The Cultivation of Trees as Affecting the Farm 440 The General Importance of Forestry in North America 442 What is being done in the conservation and re-planting of Forests in other Countries 443 The Objects of Conserving and re-plant- ing are not few 443 The Area of Land in North America.. . . 444 1 he Requisite Proportions of Tree Sur- face to that under Agricultural Crops 444 lue Existing Conditions of our Forests. 445 PAi.K The Cultivation of Trees as Affecting the Taxm— Continued. ^Vllat part of the Country should be con- served and re-planted 44ti Suitability of Certain FIuu.t and Forms of Trees for Spec'ai Purposes 44«> The Buildings of the Farm. The Buildings of the Farm 4*'^ Description of Circular Farm Buildings. 451 The Drainage of the Farm. The Drainage of the Farm 45t) Commencing Drainage Works 460 Drainage Outlets 4(11 Depth and Distances Apart of Drains. . 4t)2 Main Drains 4(111 Lateral, Side or Furrow Drains i'h Practical benefits Due to Land Drainage 471 The Making of Farm-yard Manure. The Making of Farmyard Manure 47;i Estimate Value of the Manure obtained by the consumption of one ton of dif- ferent articles of food 475 Table showing the Composition of Fann- yard Manure 47i> The Special Fertilizers of the Farm. The Special Fertilizers of the Farm 480 Lime 48.) The Crops of the Farm. Grain Crops 4lt! Barley 4it3 Oats 4!t< Rye 4'.U Com — Indian Corn 494 The Potato 4it4 TiuTiips 4!).> Mangel Wortzel 4'.K> Carrots 4<.m; Hops -IW Flax W The Grasses ot the Farm 497 Meadow Cat's Tail or Timothy 498 The Crops of the Farm Rough Cock's-foot. , Meadow Fescue . . . Fall Oat Grass Smooth Stalked Pea June Grass, Kentu Common Spear Gras Fowl Meadow Yellow Oat Grass. . . F'ine Bent Grass, or R« Perennial Rye Grass. Italian Rye Grass. . . Hungarian Grass, Bristl The Clovers of the Fan Common Red Clover White Clover— Dutch i Alsyke or Perennial Hy Yellow Clover, Hop T rock Clover Sainfoin or Cockhead . Common Vetch or Tare Permanent Pastures . . . The Cultivation ol Farm Rotations Principles on which Rotj structed General Effect of Grain, age Crops upon the La Theory of Rotation Grain Crops Buckwheat .... The Cultivation of Forn Fodder Crops., The Live Stock of the Far Breeds of Cattle *»- Thefigurti in the text tht outer cutit in dtnote the pat Accounta Advertising, 074 and 675. . Accounts with Persons I Sell Goods, 164 to 173- CONTENTS. X* PACK The Crops of the Taim— Continued. Rough Cock's-foot 499 Meadow Fescue 500 Fall Oat Grass 500 Smooth Stalked Pea Meadow Gra^s, June Grass, Kentucky Blue Grass, Common Spear Grass 501 Fowl Meadow 502 Yellow Oat Grass 50:i Fine Bent Grass, or Ked Top 503 Perennial Rye Grass 504 Italian Rye Grass 504 Hungarian Grass, Bristley Fox Tail Gra.'^s 905 The Clovers of the Farm 505 Common Red Clover 50(i White Clover— Dutch Clover 500 Alsyke or Perernial Hybrid Clover 507 Yellow Clover, Hop Trefoil, or Sham- rock Clover 507 Sainfoin or Cockhead 308 Common Vetch or Tare 509 Permanent Pastures 509 The Cultivation ot Farm Crops. Rotations 519 Principles on which Rotations are Con- structed 520 General Effect of Grain, Root and For- age Crops upon the Land 522 Theory of Rotetion 52:i Grain Crops 531 Buckwheat 536 The Cultivation of Forage and Grain Fodder Crops. , 547 The Live Stock of tbe Farm. Breeds of Cattle 558 PAO.K llie Live Stock of the Taxm—ContinueJ. Durham 358 Scale of Points for Short-Honi iBidls 502- Scale of Points for Short-Horn Cowf.. . . 5C4 Hereford Cattle 565 The Devon 567 The Norfolk Poll 568 The Suffolk Poll 569' The Galloway 570 The West Highland 570' The Aberdeen- Angus Poll 571 The Ayrshire Breed 574 Jorsey 575 Scale of Points, Cows and Heifera 576. Comparison of Breeds of Cattle in Can- atlian Experience 577 Experience with some Breeds Cattle in Ontario 581 Breeds of Horses for the Farm . . 59* Breeds of Poultry 00(> The Food and Fattening of Live Stock. Per centage Composition of Ordinary Foods 60^ Some Facts to Guide the Growth )f Beef 612 The Purpose of Cattle Fattening 613 'l"he Animal in Cattle Fattening 613> The Food of Fattening Cattle 614 Miscellaneous Agricultural Subjects. The Ontario Farmer's Text Book 617 Age of Farm Live Stock 620 Horse 621 Ox 622- Sheep 623 Pig 624 BUSINESS. Kf The figures in the te.it denote the variout lections Ijtaring on the serei'ul sulo(Cta, ichiltthoit in. \he outer colu m dinote the paye on whijt the sections are to be found. Accounts. PAGE 1 Advertising, 074 and 675 731 Accounts with Persons to whom we Sell Goods, 164 to 173-688 to 746. , 656, 732 PAQ* Accounts with Persons from whom we Buy Goods, 174 to 183—747 to 783. 657, 73;i Accounts with Attorneys, 282 to 264— 684 to 687 681, 731 3C1I CONTENTS. PAOB Accounts Continued. Uiink ^account not kept), 8Ci 640 Kauk Shares, CHi 731 ]'-ill8 Keeeivivble, 107 to 128-602 to 627. 645, 728 IMUs Payable, 12l» to 140 021) to 6i3. 649, 728. Tiills Ileceivable and Payable, 141 to 143. 651 liranch Houses, 223 to 240 665 Building, 102 to 106 614 Cash (account not kept), 75 to 86 639 Collection and Kx change, 209 to 212— 669 to 673 603, 727 Oommission, 246 to 261 672 Exiwnse, 189 to 197—644 to 048 659, 729 Employes, 677 to ()83 731 Freight and Express, 205 to 208—649 to 651 662, 729 Fuel, 198 to 200 660 Insurance, 187 and 188—656 to 659... 658, 729 Interest and Discount, 144 to 154—660 to 668 652, 729 Interest Receivable, 155 to 159 654 Interest Payable, 160 to 163 655 Lost Accounts and Notes, 265 to 274 — 784 to 788 681, 7;15 Loss and Gain, 275 to 288—789 to 800. 684, 735 Manufacturing, 87 to 91 641 Merchandise, 66 to 74—584 to 591. . .636, 727 Petty Accounts, 327 698 Private Account, 57 to 65— 571 to 583. 635, 727 r,eal Estate, 97 to 101 644 Salaries, 201 to 204—652 to 655 ()61, 729 t^hipping, 241 to 245 669 Stock Account, 49 to 56— 563 to 570. 633, 727 Stove and Office Fi.\tures,92 to 96—592 to 600 643, 728 Taxes, 184 to 186 657 Travelling Expenses, 213 to 222 663 AveraETing Accounts, or Equation of Payments, 889 to 909 771 Additional Books Used In a Wholesale Business, 863 755 Book-keeping, l to 7 627 Books— Different Kinds Explained : Back Orders, 853 755 Blotter, 23 630 Bills receivable and Bills Payable, 25.. . 631 PAOg hooka—ConlinHed. Commission Receiving Book, 247 672 Commission Sales Book, 248 673 Change Book, 853 755 Credit, or General Ledger, 853 736 Debit, or Dealer's Ledger, 853 755 Dividend Receipt Book, 826 744 Eastern Order Book, 853 755 Invoice Book, 24 630 Price Book, 853 755 Receiving Book, 853 755 Stock Ledger, 827 744 Books— Different Kinds Illustrated and Explained : Civsh Book, 13, 43 to 46 and 471 to .554. 628, 6;«, 71S Commission Consignment Books, 249 to 250 67J Journal (or Day Book), 12, 39 and 40, and 342 to 470 628, 632, 704 Ledger, 15, 41 and 42, and 555 to 80.5. 629, 632, 727 Record Book, 812 to 818 740 Shipping Ledger, 242 to 245 6C1I Trial Balance, 808 to 811 738 Branch Houses : How accounts are kei)t with them, 223 to 236 Wl^l How their books are kept, 237 to 240. . . Cm Commission Business, 246 to 261 Different kinds of business consolidated - How the books are kept, 839 672 746 Directions for opening a set of Double Entry books for a firm just starting in business, 311 6'.'> Directions for changring a set of books from Single Entry to Double Entry, 312 to 316 C!U Directions for closing a set of Double Entry books, 289 to 296 <»' Directions for closing a set of books for a business which has been rimning for several years ; the books having been kept by Single Entry, 864 to 866.i 756 Forms: Acceptance or Time Draft, 115 and 133. .645, 049 Torma—Conlinued, Bank Draft, 84 Checks, 81 and 82 iVotes, 113, llVand 131. Sight Draft, 86 Index to Transactions, 34 Index arrangement of coimts, 328 Interest on surplus capitj InterflBt Rule, 861 Inventory, 806 and 807. Investments— Different we same, 318 Manufacturing Business, i Mistakes in book-keeping occur if the foUowL always strictly adherei On taking in a new part 317 On transferring charges Books or Blotters to the ' Red Ink Promises, 306 .. , I Record Book : Yearly Statement— Assets ties, 812 Yearly statement -Losses olo Partners' Individual Stateu Sales, 815 and 816 Proportion of Gain to Sa 818 Resources and UabUities, 20 Short Calculation : Addition, 859 Averaging Accounts, 889 to J Interest Rule, 861 Multiplicati.m, 860 supping Business, 241 to 246 Stock Companies, 819 to 828.., Single Entry Book-keeping- E of 862 System of Book-keeping, pa Entry and part Double Er ittaUry explanations and rer •••••••• CONTENTS. Xlll PAGE Forms— Cant inued. Bsnk Draft, 84 640 Checks, 81 and 82 639 Notes, 113, 117 and 131 615, 646, 649 Sight Draft, 85 640 Index to Transactions, 341 702 Index arrangement of the Ledger ac- counts, 328 698 Interest on surplus capital, 319 696 Interflst Rule, 861 76;} Inventory, 806 and 807 737 Investments— Different ways of making same, 318 696 Manufacturing Business, 87 to 91 t;41 Mistakes in book-keeping vriU never occur if the following rules are always strictly adhered to, 26 to 28 031 On taking in a new partner, 316 and 317 695 On transferring charges ft-om Sales Books or Blotters to vhe Journal, 332 7U0 Red Ink Promises, 305 691 Record Book : Yearly Statement- A^^sets and Liabili- ties, 812 740 Yearly statement Losses and Gains, 813 740 Partners' Individual Statements, 814 — 740 Sales, 815 and 816 741 Proiwrtion of Gain to Sales, 817 and 818 741 esources and Liabilities, 20 and 21 6^i0 [hort Calculation: Addition, 859 760 Averaging Accounts, 889 to 909 771 Interest Rule, 861 7(iii Multiplication, 860 761 pping Business, 241 to 246 iM9 jock Companies, 819 to 828 742 le Entry Book-keeping Expliu\ation of 802 753 jstem of Book-keeping, part Single Entry and part Double Entry, 313. . 695 dry explanations and remarks, 861 752 PACE Sundry Instructions, Hints, etc.: Checks, Drafts, Notes, etc., 829 to 832^ 745 Classification of accounts, 843 748 C. O. D. and Sight Draft sales, 8;58 740 Commuting interest on payments, 837. . . 74<) " Easy " customern, 84i" 719 Errors in jwsting, 847 750 Invoices, Notes, etc. , for which we have to pay, 849 751 On balancing an account, .308 692 On committing Ledger pages to memorj', 329 699 On copying letters, 310. 69S On copying the items from the invoices of goods we buy, 842 748 On detecting errors in the trial balance, 296 to 298 688 On entering invoices, 331 69'.> On filing invoices, 309 692 On handling the cawh, 858. "j 769 On " making the cash," 857 758 On making mistakes, 848 750 On receiving cash, 833 745 On transferring accounts from ;in old Ledger to a new, 840 747 Overcharges, etc., 844 748 Past due accounts, 3C4 . . 090 Payments on discounted notes, 83 1 746 Bed checks, 330 G99 Sight Draft, 836 746 Statemeuta, 841 748 The services of an office boy, 846 749 Waive Protest, 835 746 Sundry minute savings of time and labour, 860 751 Terms -Meaning of: " At commencement of business," 315 ....G9"> " At the end of the year," 288 68t; " Balance the account," 3aS 692 "Close the books," 289 to 295 686 '* Journalize," 12 and E.\. 370 628, 704 " On account," 851 7-52 " Po.-ting," 10 627 •' Rule the closing lines," 801 to SO.1 735 " Sundries," 851 852 "Take a trial balance," 296 to 304 Oas " Take an inventory," 66, 806 and 807. . 636 The Corner Stone, 29 to 48 6;}2 The Foundation, 29 to 296 632 XIV CONTENTS. PAGE *rhe JlluBtratlon and Tbe Explanation 333 to 818 700 Ji>uriial— Columns, 342 to .'>47 and Ex. 342 to 347 704 " Entries, 3474 to 471 and Ex. 347J to 470 704 •Cash Book- Columns, 471 to 484 and Ex. 471 to 484 718 " " Entries, 485 to 546 and Ex. 485 to 546 718 Closing, 547 to 554 and Ex. . 547 to 554 718 Ledger— Columns, 555 to 562 and Ex. 555 to 562 727 " Accounts, 56;3 to 805 and Ex. 503 to 805 727 Tbc Trial Balance, 296 to 304 and 808 to 811 688, 738 The End of the Fear, 289 to 296 686 Unnecessary work taught in Business Colleges and practised by many ex- perienced book-keepers, and how to avoid it, 321 to 326 697 Valuable tables for reference, 862 to 888... 764 What a book-keeper should do in tak- ing a set of books from another book- keeper to keep, 320 697 mercantile Law. Administration of Estates of Deceased Persona 776 Agency 776 Arbitration 777 Arrest 778 Attachment 779 Chattel Mortgages 779 Contracts 779 Interest and Usury 780 Lien Law 780 Limitation of Action when a Debt is Outlawipd 781 Notes and Bills of Exchange 782 Partnership 783 Forms of Legal Documents. General form of Agreement 784 Agreement for the purchase of a House andLot 784 Agreement for the Sale of Real Estate . . 784 Agreement for Building a House 785 " to be Signed by an Auctioneer after a sale of Land by Auction ..... 785 PACK Fonnti of Leaal Documents, {Continued.) Articlfis of Copartnership 785 Agreement to Continue the Partnership. 78(5 Deed without Covenants 78fi Deed of liand 787 Mortgage to secure $ with Interest 788 Assignment of Mortgage 788 Chattel Mortgage 789 Discharge of Mortgage 791 Conveyances of Lands on Sale by Mort- gage 7!t:i Deed of Gift of Personal Estate 79;) " " " by a Father to a Son of his Personal Property 70:i A Will of Real Estate 7!)4 ( 'odicil to a Will 78,000,()00. There are also valuable silver and copper mines. There are extensive and valuable coal beds, easy of access. The fisheries are valuable, and one of the chief iudustrieii. The climate is mild, and cattle can stay on the plains and among the hills during the winter without housing. Winter lasts from November till March ; but snow seldom remains long on the ground. Wheat, barley, potatoes, turnips, apples, pears, kc, grow luxuriantly. The province, too, is rich in fur-bearing animals, among these being black, brown and griz- zly bears, lynx, marten, fox and beaver. The. chief rivers are the Fraser, which pursues a rapid course between steep and. rocky banks, until, ap- proaching the sea, it presents a fertile and richly wooded valley from fifty to sixty miles in length. The Fraser is 700 miles long. The Thompson sur- passes the latter in richness of scenery ; and it flows through one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Steamers ascend the Fraser for 100 miles ; and beyond the terminus a government gravel road begins, and extends up the river for 450 miles. Burrard Inlet is an excellent harbour, and Port Moody, one of its inlets, will be the terminus of the Canada Paci- fic Eailway. Public affairs are in the hands of a lieutenant-governor and an executive of five members ; a legislative assembly of twenty-fi^o members, elected every four years. Victoria, the capital, has a popu- lation of 5,925. The colony was first established in 1858. A large number of Chinese, attracted by railway building, have settled in the pro- vince. Some came direct from China, others from California and other parts of the American Pacific coast. The Canada Pacific railway in course of construction, is intended to connect British Columbia with the eastern provinces. There are large areas of first-rate agricultural lands in the hands of the government, which makes the province suitable for immigration, and large districts of timber. t is bouufled on the North-Wes. The name Man aijeurs of the Wal)an means are excited soi ."ome mighty ^ ]\I;initu-waban. vince is one hu< and wild-Hower other trees. W five bushels to t Jis does fruit, an^ in winter, so tha and the bitteres not felt sokeenl} often unroofin of people. The winters are severe, but in the delightful summers abun- dant crops of roots, grain and fruits are produced. The Canada Pacific runs through the Saskatchewan country, and various other railroads are projected through the territories. Settlers and cattle ranchers flock every year into the region. CENSUS Stafemei PROVINCE. ' ''j'jPJ '■i'l Ontario. Olenjfarry Cornwall Sturmont Dundaa PreHcott Itussell Otlawa, City Orenville, South Leeds and Oreu- ville, Mortb .. Carleton Brockville Lecdj, South ... j LMurk, South.., Lanark, North . . F{onfrew, South, I Renfrew, North Krontenac ' Kingfston.City.. Lennox I Addington Prince Kdward . . * Hastin)(8, East.. | Hastinj(8,We9t..i Haatinifs, North.! Northumb'd, E.. >'orthumb'd,W..' Peterborough, Ej Peterborough, W I Durham, East .. Durham, West.. Victoria, South.. Victoria, North.. Muakoka Ontario, South.. Ontario, North,. Toronto, Eaat . . Toronto, Centre Toronto, West . . York, East York, West .... York, North.... Simcoe, South.. I Simooe, North . . i Peel Cardwell ! Welland | Niagara Monck Lincoln Haldimand .... Wentworth, S. . . Went. worth, N.. Hamilton, City.. Halton..!.. ... Wellington, S... Wellington, Cen 22. 9. 13, 20. 22,; 25.1 27,< 13.1 [ 12,( ' 24,( 12,( 22,5 20,( 13,!! 19,1 20,8 14,9 14,0 10,3 23,4 21,0 17.3 17,41 20,4' 22,21 16,0! 23,91 13,3i 18,7] 17,6f 20,8] 13, 7( 27, 2C 20,37 28,43 24,86 22, 9S 38,58 23,31 18,88 24,50 26,89 49.23 1(5,38 1«,77( 26,16; 8,44i 17,14' 22,96i 18,61$ 14,99; 15,99t 35,961 21,9ig 25,400 22,265 THE DOMINION OF CANADA. 29 CENSTTS OF THE DOMINION OF CANADA— 1881. Statement shoiving Population of the Dominion by HUctm'ol Dialricta. 3 i,> PROVINCE. rZl'"' Ontario. Olengarry .... Cornwall .... Sturraont Dundas PreHCDtt I Ihmsell Ottawa, City Orenville, South Leeds and Oren- \ ville, North ..: » Carleton Brockville i Leedd, South . . . j Lanark, South.. . Lanark, North . . Kenfrew, South, Kenfrew, North | Krontenac Kin({»ton,City.., Lennox I Aildinjirton ; Prince Edward.. ' HastinKs, East..! HastintfB,West..i llastiiiKS, North. [ Northumb'd, E..; Northumb'd, W.. Peterborough, E' Peterborough, W Durham, East .. i Durham, West..! Victoria, South..' Victoria, North.. Muskoka Ontario, South.. Ontario, North.. Toronto, Eaot . . Toronto, Centre Toronto, West . . York, East ] York, West .... York, North....] Simcoe, South . . i Simcoe, North . . Peel Cardwell Welland Kiafcara Monck Lincoln Haldiraand .... Wentworth, S... Wcniworth, N.. Hamilton, City.. llalton ... Wellington, S... Wellington, Cen PROVINCE. 22.221 0,0(M 13,204 20,598 22,857 2.'>.0S2 27,412 13,628 12,929 24,689 12,BI4 22,200 20,03 J 13,943 19,160 20,905 14,933 14,091 16,314 23,470 21,044 17.313 17,400 20,479 22,2<»!» 16,984 23,966 13,310 18,710 17,565 20,818 13,799 27,204 Wellington, N.. Orey, !S )Ulh .... Urey, Ea.rt Orey, North.. .. Norfolk, South.. Norfolk, North.. Brant, South.. .. Brant, North.. .. Waterloo, South Waterloo, North Elgin, East Elgin, West .... Oxford South . . Oxford, North.. vliddlcsex. East. Middle ex. West. Middlesex, N . . London, City.... Perth, South ... Perth, North ... Huron, South . . Huron, Centre.. Huron North .. Bruce, South . . . Bruce, North.. .. Bothwell Lambtou Kent Emex Algoma Popula- tion. 25 h7li 21,127 29,06 2'i.XH Popula- tion. Brome Itlchelleu ,631 18,547 PROVINCE. Popul» tion. Digby \nnapoll8 ,. . King's '{antK 14,4.^ti|Colche8ter... 17,7»4 Plctou 12,449 Antigonish . . 10,85!: UuniberUnd . 12,265 11,436 Total 10,511 14,.393 15.4'.I5 16,005 11,485 32,409 17,901 N. Brunswick. | Albert i St. John, City ..' 10,220|3t. John, County! Charlotte King's. . . (Queen's . Sunbury 12,322 York 31,900 Cirleton. 17,89? Victoria , 12,048 ^Vcstmoreland . . 20,278 Kent 25 175 Northumberland Gloucester Kestigoiiche .... 26,818 9.290 12,9S(i 17,493 21,838 21,988 15,282 12,966 25,078 67,506 48,163 40,070 12 iU5 9,462 21,892 15,861) 16,062 Total B. CoLUMniA. NewWestminst'r Cariboo Yale Victoria Vancouver Total P. E, Island. Prince Queen's 49,432 King's 19,939 19,881 2J,598 23.460 23,369 26,7S0 35,638 18,060 27,368 Total 1,3.59,02; Nova Scotja. Inverness Victoria Cajie Breton . . . Richmond Ouysborough .. Halifax 25.651 12,470 Lis)>ar. 16,5.'>6 Lunenburg . Queen's 8helburne , 23,233 Y armouth 31.258 15,121 17,808 67,917 25,683 10 .577 14,913 21,284 Total Manitoba. Selkirk Provencher . .. Marquette. Extension . Total . InHTRRR T0RIB«l 440,672 12,32? 28,127 21,839 26,087 'A5,617 14,017 6,651 30,397 23,365 15,686 37,719 22,618 25,109 21.614 7.05i 321,233 15,417 7,550 9.200 7,301 9,991 49,459 34,347 48,111 20,433 108,891 12,771 11,496 6,786 19,449 16,452 65,954 66,446 Grand ToUl..' 4,324,810 80 THK HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.KDIA. Comparative Staiement shuimng Population of principal Cities and Towns. PKOVINCES. P0iM7bATI0M, Increase. 33,622 30,323 2,747 i 6.618 9,24'; 6,067 "si 920 2,706 16a4 2.678 3 01-2 1,707 l,f.09 2.211 I.IOO f.ro 3.926 7,744 2,000 2,607 906 2,705 ' '2,261 j 2,308 1 '"212 j 2,656 * Decrease. NAMES. 1871. 107,226 66.002 69,609 20,682 26,716 21,646 28,806 16,826 12,620 12,407 8,807 0,878 7,864 8,107 7,806 7,570 2,197 4,318 241 1 6,878 6,102 6,601 4,432 '4,6ii 4,263 'biooe 8,270 1881. 140,747 86,41.1 62,446 86,100 3.1,0(!1 2',412 26,127 ll),746 16,226 14,001 11,4»6 0,800 o,o:a 0,016 0,6(6 8,670 8,307 8,239 7,98.5 7,873 7,009 7.597 7,227 6,100 6,812 6,661 6,416 0,218 6,026 (>Iif trio (Quebec Halifax (JllubCrC Nova 8colia Ilaiiiilton Ontario Ottatva Ontario • 2,078 OnUrlo New Rriinswiclc Portland , Charlottotown Prince KUwdrd litland Onturi" St. Catharines , Ontario Ontario Brantfortt ^ BoIIeville .... Ontario St Thomas (intario Stratfoi (1 Ontario .Manitoba ' Chatham Ontario ' Brocltvillo Levis Ontario (Quebec Hull Peterborough Windsor yuobec Ontario St. Henri Frederlcton Quebec New Bruniwiuk 1 Brlt'sh Columbia ' Victoria ' The indicated decrease of the population at the Cit.v of St. John is attributable to the great fire which oc- curred in the year 1877, when half of th 1 city was laid in ashes. Oreat numbers were thereby driven into the iurrounding diatricts, and many whoso business and social ties were thus severed did not return to the city. No. l.—Statistica CorHTRIHS. Val (ircat rirltjiiti r,:i,7i I'MJtcd .States 32.8; Newfoundland I i.n-' lliitish West Indies 1,7 .■^pftnishWust Indies l,li, Kierich West Indies 1 1 l>anish\ViNt Indies Itritish Guiana ' 21 China | ]: ■l.ipan Mexico I ], I'aiiama South America .,.| 71, .St. I'icrre 1 jf, • ^'™n(■c i m-: (Icrniany ! jjj ^pai", .'- 4(; I'ortujfal Ids Italy I 1,.-, Ilel^'inrn 'j ^.vV llolliiiid I 21.'> l>C'MMiark .j "i")' Norway .'j ;jo' Itussia I ]{'( Other Countries...! 31l'{ Coin and Bullion .| »7i,( Kst.ain't short rct'd 3,023,ii Totals |98,20O,a Summary Statement showing the Religions of the People. PROVINCES. Ontario .... Quebec Nova Scotia. NewBrunswicli B. Columbia . P. E. Island.. Manitoba .... Territories . . . Total .3 j .a i § s ! a X man thol ■0 •< & Z pa i6 696 106,680 7,714 320,830 4,210 8,863 682 1,170,718 1,536 83,761 218 117,487 738 81,092 164 109,091 10 434 7 10,043 13 6,236 17 47,115 8 9,410 29 12,246 .... 20 .... 4,443 7,211 200,525 8,831 1,701,982 1-^ I 336,539' 10,340 08,7971 5,244 60,255 46,7081 7,804 7,192 14,297 8,166 I '674,818 3,506, 1,372 76 20 343 26,900 16,051 121 1,826 1,476 23 604 102 5 1,193 080 1 10! 651 1041 "83 •■3 o JS 87,901591,603 20,193, 2,303 1,003! 5,639 824 491 4 084 4 46,350 30,221 1 50,811' 34,614 8,616 13,485 0,470 46 i 742,081 8-C 417,740 50,287 112,4-8 4i,88S 4,095 33,835 14,292 531 670,165 27,068 6,294 1,408 1,491 3,726 2j0, 2,374 1,061 o 'A 12,905 2,608 1,018 1,209 19,131 100 2,327 40,760 43,692 86,70!> EXPORTS Conipcu-ative Statement ■I^ffn'l'f? „Total Tott mhJune. Exports. ! Ini|)oi 57,567,888 60,474,781 73,573,490! 74,173,0181 82,639,663 80,780,9221 89,351,028! 73,459 I 70,416, 74,814, 96,002, 111,430, 128,011, 128,213, THE DOMINION OF CANADA. 31 COMMERCE, DOMINION OF CANADA. j^„. 2. — Statistical Vi*tw of the Oommeree of the Dominion of Canada during fiscal year ending 30th June, ISSl. COINTRIRS. COMMRRCR. Value of Kxixjrtn. (iri'iit Firitaiu I'riitcd StateH Ncwfcmriillaiid . . . .' Hiitinh West liidius SpaiiishWustliKlifd Kitnch West Indies |)aniMh Wr-it Indioti British Uuiana ... China .Ia)>iui i Mexico I I'aiiaina South Amerii'tt ... St. I'icrie ] Kraiicc | Cerniaii.v i S|Kiiii I'ortUK'al Italy I!eli,'iiliii Holland Dt'Miiiark Norway Itussia Other Countries... Coin and Bullion . l^st.am't short ret'd Totals .... 9 f)«,747,.'m) 32,87!>,lHt8 l,.^2:^,4fi7 1,787,813 1,107,012, Ul,17f. 57,1(29 21.'i.044 19,701 Value of (ioods Kii' tored for C'oiiNunip' tion. 10,701 71.^.0«2 152,984 002,711 84,932 40,053 108,594 145,907 258,433 215,7.54 12,120 32,407 11,017 311,912 971,005 3,023,322 9 43,.''>83,808 30,704,112 052,304 1,888,095 l,8!«t,813 18,185 8,t»80 173,978 592,245 818,728 14,100 01.5,4.34 18,490' 1,031,332 934,200! 399,084 50,803 88,720 412,834 22.5,190 30 10,983 14,404 843,224 Puty Collected. Tonnage of nrltlsh and Canadian Vessels.' Hinppi.vo. Tonnojfo of Forcitfn Vessels. Kntered Kntered Inwardii. lOutwards, » c, 8,772,949 97 ^ 5,049,151 89 3,251 22 718,507 0!» 803,547 09 2,137 73 309 49 109,285 29 142,100 10 200,3^- 30th June. ! Total Total Ent. tor Duty. mhJune. Exports. ! Imports. 1 Consunip. Exports. Imports. 'Consump. 18CS S i « 57,567,888 73,4.59,644 71,985,300 8,819,432 1875 77,800,979 123,070,282 119,618,657 1 15,361,382 I8ti9 00,474,7811 70,415,165 67,402,170 8,298,9101,1876 80,900,435 93,210,;i46 04,73:1,218:12,833,114 1870 73,,573,490l 74,814,339 71,237,603 9,402,940 1877 75,875,393 99,327,902 96,300,483 12,548,45-' 1871 74,173,0181 90,092,971 80,947,482 11,84:«,050 1878 79,323,667 93,081,787 91,199,577112,795,093 1872 82,039,063:lll,430,.527 107,709,116 13,04.5,493 1879 71,491,255 81,904,427 80,341,008 12,939,,541 1873 89,789,9221128,011,281 127,.514,.594 13,017,730 1880 87,911,458 80,489,747 71,782,349,14,138,849 1874 89,351,928128,213,582 127,404,109 14,421,882!' 1881 98,290,823 105,330,840 91,611,604 18,500,786 32 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. EXPORTS, DOMINION OF CANADA. Summary Statement of the Value of Exports, the growth, produce and manufacture of the JJoviinion of Ca7Mda, exported duriny ihe fiscal year ending 30th June, 1881 . DESCRIITION. ONTARIO. QUEBEC. 1 N. SCOTIA. N.BRUN'K. manit'ba B.COI-UM'IA p.r.isl'nd. TOTAL. I'roduce of the Mine Produce of the Fisheries.. Produce of the Forest Animals and their i)rodu(;e Agricultural Products .... Manufactures $303,293 128,982 6,576,332 6,003,005 11,5.56,581 1,373,829 502,427 ' 2,676,629 30,014,478 $466,021 748,053 12,863,804 13,695,812 18,086,108 1,037,486 151,421 963,000 353,293 48,965,087 $655,094! $173,008 4,307,068 786,400 1,325,280 4,730,406 606,056 210,206 545,235 173,191 662,630 249,713 47,175 65,360 7,200 $767 3,930 "600,756 21,367 1,002 "■'725 $1,317,079 403,170 162,747 350,615 1,335 20,620 187 $992 521,282 42,189 200,160 910,220 97,843 2,080 80 $2,916,254 6,898,884 25,709,848 22,665,610 31,294,127 4,061,123 768,6;.0 97i,oor> 3,028,322 Miscellaneous Articles Coin and Bullion Kstiniatcd am 'ts short ret'd Totals. .___ 8,245,738, 6,406,374 628,547 2,255,753 1,774,846 98,290,823 HON, EDWiiRD BUKI HON, EDWARD BLAKE,; LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION, PARLIAMENT OF CANADA, t^^5^ the good old relf hand and Jielp o is uprooted at oi Almost the fir; nideness of a st obeyed, that she He may love his ^viien a conflict o conscientious mot tious mother will H'hy should /(c? 'J not reverence. 1 fauffht that obed ^'(lucation of a for Therefore he lia ;'ood instincts, he ti'ious, perhai)s ; b the young Americ? the otlier virtues \ ^0 beautiful as the I fi'oni his first senti* c ^Iic J\mcnitic0 of ^)omc. t/^n^ I. DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY. HE first tiling which sliould be taught a child is obedience, and after that should come reverence. It is very hard to teach a child reverence. His parents must be people of remarkable force of character if they succeed in doing so, for the tendency of free institutions on this continent is against him. The newly arrived inunigrant defeats the idea ; for he soon learns, as the beginning of his political career, that his vote is as good as his master's — perhaps better. Thus the good old relation between master and servant, of respect on the one hand and help on the other — the best relation for the benefit of home — is uprooted at once. Almost the first impression on a young child's mind is, perhaps, of the nideness of a servant to his mother. He sees that her orders are not obeyed, that she is powerless to enforce them. No child likes to obey. He may love his mother — of course he does — better than anything, but wlien a conflict of opinion ccunes, he prefers his own will. A strong and conscientious mother will compel her child to obey ; a weak and conscien- tious mother will not be able to do so. He .sees that Sarah does not obey, why should 1ic^ The child goes to school. There he is taught routine, but not reverence. He is not especially reverential to his teachers ; nor is he taught that obedience to superior i-ank or station which is a part of the education of a foreigner. Therefore he has no inherited nor early inculcated reverence. He has good instincts, he has learned to tell the truth, he is energetic and indus- trious, perhaps ; but a French boy would be shocked at the manners of the young American or Canadian son to his mother, even had the boy all the other virtues wliich he respects. Nothing in this imperfect world is so beautiful as the relation of a French son to his uiother. He sees her from his first sentient look the being whom every one in the house adores, c I 34 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Does the nurse or the maid speak even sharply to the mistress of the house, she is immediately discharged. The child would thus see his mo- ther's authority verified from the first, and, whatever we may say on this side of the water of the marriage relation in France, the master of tlie house certainly compels a sort of respect from his servants and children toward the mother and mistress of the house, which goes far toward mak- ing thy manners of a nation respectful and polite. From the cradle to the grave a French son has one duty, one affection, which is paramount to all others — that is, his love for his mother. As a child, as a boy, he treats her with perfect respect and obedience. As a younor man, he delights to send her flowers, to take her to the theatres and cafes. It is a common sight in Paris to see a young man with a gray- haired woman at the public galleries and places of amusement, apparently perfectly happy with each other, the young man studying to make his mother comfortable and amused. Often, in leaving France, a young man asks of his family the privilege of taking his mother with him as his " guide, philosopher, and friend." Before his marriage is arranged, she is his con- stant companion and his best adviser. Never until death separates them does he fail in his duty toward her ; and, after that event has closed this sweet, dutiful history, he keeps the anniversary of her death as his most sacred day, and visits her grave with his children to dress it with flowers. A young Canadian, of even the kindest heart and manners, seldom treats his mother with much outward attention. He may, if necessary, work for her ; he would be shocked if he heard that he had been guilty of any neglect of even the most remote duty to her. But he gives her no small attentions, such as sending her fluwers, helping her in work, greeting her in the morning, taking her for a drive. Nothing is so rare as to see a young gentleman in attendance upon his mother. Even his manner of speaking to her is harsh and impolite. He goes to her for money, if his father does not give it to him, but he is very indifferent as to his manner of asking for it ; he is full of reproaches if she does not give it to him. The men of this continent respect women in the highest sense, and treat them with all the chivalry possible, as far as immunity from insult is con- cerned. The national character of the Canadian in this respect is above reproach. But are they at home amiable and polite ? Do they treat their wives and daughters or their mothers with constant and daily, and proper politeness ? Are Canadian women models in this respect ? Do they remem- ber to be grateful, polite, in little matters of salutations and of compli- ment ? Are they careful to be good-humoured, and to bring only an an)ia- ble face to the dinner-table ? We are afra ties of home ca home dinner-ta the bed-room a Between pan love, be the slio IS not now, as it to be formally r the room, or stc would be better father different] mother leaves th to assume a ccvU hied woman of < against wind and barrassed by ill-t: liead, if she couk '''•'".i?hters; and c( would now and th would not impress to ho left to the so How does her n citude watched Jiis b' Iiis bedside whc I'Urse her when she ward ; but, at least she bi-ought home t Suiting hk daily ai succession of deligh "little coat," thatch iifter lier teaching, ] ^ow, wrapped ii ;'oe.shethinkofhoi "^ f^er oivn icmj—ih tlie.son does not tre, 'nor do her daughter. 'o''e;'r withatoores We have no powe. mother was the last paughter. There an DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY. 35 We are afraid not. Tlie national manners need improving. The ameni- ties of home can alone make up for the national disadvantage. It is at the home dinner-table, by the hearth-stone, the evening fireside, in the nurser3\ the bed-room and the sick-room, that manners must be taught. Between parents and children there should never, even with the fondest- love, be the slightest relaxation in the matter of a respectful obedience. It is not now, as it was in the days of our own fathers and mothers, the fashion to be formally respectful. The son does not rise when his father enters- the room, or stop speaking because his father is speaking. Perhaps it would be better if ho did. But he can be taught that he should treat his father differently from other men. He can be taught to rise when his- mother leaves the table. He can be taught, by looks rather than by words, to assume a certain respectful tone. Undoubtedly, the harassed and trou- bled woman of the New World — old before her time ; obliged to rush against wind and tide, full of cares which pursue her like scorpions, em- biUTassed by ill-trained servants — would have a wrinkle less on her for(3- hoad, if she could be treated with a little more respect by her sons and (laughters ; and certainly she would be no less happy if her grown-up son would now and then take her to the theatre or to a picture-gallery, and would not impress it on her mind that she is an old woman, and therefore to 1)6 left to the solitude of her own thoughts. How does her mind go back to those days when she with sleepless soli- citude watched his helplessness ! How does she think of her patient work by his bedside when he was ailing ! Does he ever wish to sit down and hurse her when she is ill ? He may say that the affections never go back- ward ; but, at least, he might remember what she has done for him — how she brought home the Christmas-tree, which she decked for him ; not for- getting his daily amusements, how she sought to make his life an endless succession of delights ; how she wrought, in sickness and in health, at lii.i "httle coii.t," that he might be fine ; and how proud she was of him, when, after her teaching, he took the prize at school. Now, wrai)ped in his own pleasures, or business, or love, how often does he think of her or her pleasure ? Does he try to make her happy in her otvn way — the only way in which we can any of us be happy ? No, the son does not treat his mother with much politeness as a general rule; nor do her daughters always err on the side of too much delicate devotion, or err with a too respectful manner. We have no power to write a counter-irritant to " Daisy Miller," whose mother was the last person to be informed of the engagement of her Idaughter. There are many mothers who constitute themselves the upper 36 THE HOME, FAllM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. servants of their daughters, and who consider the daughter as the besi judge of her own actions. Such a mother must, of course, take the conse- quences of her own folly, and bear with whatever sort of treatment her daughter choosv^s to give her. We can not make them over such unwise mothers. But for the future there is always hope. We can begin with a young home, a young mother ; and fiom experience, and from the memory of mistakes, we can try to teach a better code, feeling sure that, when mothers appreciate how far-reaching are the amenities of home, they will try to inake the nursery the infant school, as the parlour and dining-room shouM bo the college and university, of a new and an improved system of national manners. n. A SUBTILE SYMPATHY. In order to make home happy to a child, he should never be laughed at, The chaotic view of life which presents itself to a child, we can all re- member ; how we only half understood things, or how we misapprehended! them altogether; how formalists wearied us, and gave us texts which we I could not remember ; and how the hasty and the heartless trampled down the virgin buds of good resolve and of heroic endeavour. Our early heart- breaks are never quite forgotten, nor can we recall them without tears.j They are, of course, a part of the forging of the armour. We have to Ul hammered into shape by all sorts of hard blows before we ore good fori anything. The only thing we can ask is that the strokes be so well givenj that we are not bent awry ; that the character does not receive some fatalB element, and it car Shall we, in adi affliet them in t lack of compreh A child will i It will not let us til rough sympat One of the mo in George ElioV! grown man or wc siitierings. Poor A sullen tempc way of good man temper soured. It pains a motl say that their chi •lerstood ; that sh serious when she j which she never d increased by her d( ot narrow o: 'es, sue " r did my best, I inspired. But while the ( parent should try ^•hild's nature. Sf twist from which it never recovers. " He cornea, and lays my heart all heated On the hard anvil, minded so Iiit(j his own fair shape to beat it With his {{reat hammer, blow on blow ; And yet I whisper, ' As God will !' And at his heaviest blows lie still. "He takes my softened heart, and beats it, The sparks fly off at every blow ; He turns it o'er and o'er and beats it, And lets it cool and makes it glow ; And yet T whisper, ' As God will ! ' And in his mighty hand lie still." We are all on God's anvil, to be thus moulded, but, in a lessei' degrei our children are in our hands to be shaped into the image of tlieir Makeij I'iaiiJ.thatshe believi I'a'ighterof her sol '"'Oti'er made Iier w j'lot allow her little I ''oops were the fash ^'le had caused her N'^ject, she had maj huestions, a certain piy to allow your c •^I^ove ail thing.s, do pro than anything The rnggetl jacket rn which has she 1%-donotmoveth A SUBTILE SY\! PATHY. 37 Shall we, in addition to all tho sorrows which must come to them later, attlict them in their sensitive childhood with our scorn, our ridicule, or our lack of comprehension ? A child will not, for some inscrutable reason, tell the secrets of its soul. It will not let us know when we hurt it, and how. We must be careful, through sympathy and through memory, to find that art. One of the most powerful sketches of a child's sufferings is to be found in George P]liot's Maggie Tulliver, in tho "Mill on the Floss." Many a grown man or woman, on reading that, has said, "It is a picture of my early sutierings. Poor Maggie ? " A sullen temper gives to a mother an almost incurable obstacle in the way of good manners, and yet a sullen temper is very often an affectionate temper soured. It pains a mother often after her children have grown up to hear them say that their childhood was an unhappy one ; that they wei'o never un- derstood ; that she laughed when she should have been serious, and was serious when she should have laughed; that they had terrors by night which she never drove away ; and that their mortifications by day were increased by her determination that they should wear broad coUars instead I of narrow oi 'es, such as the other boys wore, and so on. She can only say, ' " I did my best, I did my best for you," and regret that she had not been inspired. But while the children arc young, as indeed after they are grown, a parent should try to sympathize with the various irregular growths of a L'liild's nature. Sensitiveness as to peculiarities of dress is a very sti'ong 1 element, and it can not be laughed down. The late Lydia Maria Child j said, that she believed her character had been permanently injured by the laughter of her schoolmates at a peculiar short-waisted gown which her luoti.er made her wear to school. And a very sensible mother, who would not allow her little daughter to wear a hoop to a dancing-school, when |lioops were the fashion, said that she was certain that, by the mortification she had caused her, and the undue attention which had been given to tho subject, she had made love of dress a passion with the child. On all these i|uestions, a certain wholesome inattention is perhaps the best treatment. [Try to allow your child to be as much like his fellows as you can ; and, jiibove all things, do not make him too splendid, for that hurts his feelings jiiioro than anything, and makes the other boys laugh at him. The ragged jacket, the poor shoes, the forlorn ca}), the deciduous panta- Jioon which has shed the leaves of freshness — these are not laughed at ; Ithey do not move the youthful soul to ridicule. It is a lovely trait in the 38 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. character of boyhood tliat poverty is no disgrace. But a velvet jacket, a peculiar collar, hair cut in a singular fashion, long hair especially — these are cruel guide-posts to the young bully. He makes the picturesque wearer whose prettiness delights his mother to suffer for this peculiar grace most fearfully. Little girls, more precocious than boys, suffer, however, less from the pangs of ridicule ; yet they have their sorrows. An intelligent and poetical girl is laughed at for her rhapsodies, her fine language, or her totally inno- cent exaggerations. She gets the name of fib-teller, when she is perhaps but painting a bluer sky or describing a brighter sun than her fellow- beings can see. But a little girl has generally a great deal of vanity to help her along, and much tact to tell her where to go, so that her suffer- ings are less severe than those of a boy. She gravitates naturally towards the amenities, and, if she is not a well-bred person, it is largely the fault of her surroundings. m. EDUCATION AND MANNEES OF GIELS. We come now to the subject which perhaps has only remotely to do with the amenities of home, but much to do with the welfare of the state. We must consider the two extremes which are now being brought about by the emancipation of young women. One is, their higher education, the other is, the growing " fastness " of manner. One can scarcely imagine amenity of manner without education, and yet we are forced to ooserve that it can exist, as we see the manners of highly educated, and what are called strong-minded women. Soft, gentle, and feminine manners do not always accompany cultui'e and education. In- deed, pre-occupation in literary matters used to be supposed to unfit a woman for being a graceful member of society, but we have changed all that ; and we are now in the very midst of a well-dressed and well-man- nered set of women, who work at their pen as Penelope at her web. The home influence is, however, still needed for those young daughters who begin early to live in books ; and neatness in dress and order should be insisted upon by the mother of a bookish, studious girl. All students are disposed to be slovenly, excepting an unusual class, who, like the Count de Buffin, write in lace ruffles and diamond rings. Books are apt to soil the hands, and libraries, although they look clean, are prone to accumulate dust. Ink is a very permeating material, and ci-eeps up uuider the middle finger-nail. To appear with such evidences of guilt upon one would make the prettiest woman unlovely. The amenities our female colle^ to copy masculine more than balan out and pursued i would, however, ! of youthful spirit dress, intonation, wlio wears an ulst pockets, and imiU However, to a ^ and thinking, we < tivated woman. \ tion to the better hapj)y herself, but is a much more us( pant woman, althoi that, having gone s vated flower, instea Far more reprehe tendency to "fastnes probably from the c It seems liardly p fashion has been ac 'ler doubtful manne Priscilla Mullins. of the Mayflower tin fiundred years of in Europe rings with tL 'ngly dressed, who li themselves the com their own notoriety. the story of the Harf the amenities of hoi would be impossible. In the first place, crowded streets alone l««nt with them. ^, \Vashington, " I must a''out with my girls.' EDUCATION AND MANNERS OF GIRLS. 30 The amenities of manner are not quite enough considered at some of our female colleges. With the college course the young graduates are apt to copy masculine manners. This is not graceful, and to some minds would mure than balance the advantages of the severe course of study marked out and pursued at college. A mother with gentle and lady-like manners would, however, soon counteract these masculine tendencies and overflow of youthful spirits. We all detest a man who copies the feminine style of dress, intonation, and gesture. Why should a girl be any more attractive who wears an ulster, a Derby hat, and who strides, puts her hands in her pockets, and imitates her brothers's style in walk and gesture ? However, to a girl who is absorbed in books, who is reading, studying, and thinking, we can forgive much if she only will come out a really cul- tivated woman. We know that she will be a power in the state, an addi- tion to the better forces of our government ; that she will be not only happy herself, but the cause of happiness in others. The cultivated woman is a much more useful factor in civilization, than the vain, silly, and flip- pant woman, although the latter may be prettier. But it is a great pity ' that, having gone so far, she should not go further, and come out a culti- vated flower, instead of a learned weed. Far more reprehensible and destructive of all amenities, is the growing tendency to "fastness," an exotic which we have imported from somewhere ; probably from the days of the Empire in Pai'is. It seems hardly possible that the " fast" woman of the present, whose fashion has been achieved by her questionable talk, her excessive dress, her doubtful manners, can have gi'own out of the same soil that produced Priscilla Mullins. The old Puritan Fathers would have turned the helm of the Mayflower the other way if they could have seen the product of one hundred years of independence on the other side of the line. Now all Europe rings with the stories of American women, young, beautiful, charm- ingly dressed, who live away from their husbands, flirt with princes, make themselves the common talk of all the nations, and are delighted with their own notoriety. To educate daughters to such a fate seems to recall I the story of the Harpies. Surely no mother can coolly contemplate it. And the amenities of home should be so strict and so guarded that this fate [would be impossible. In the first place, young girls should not be allowed to walk in the Icrowded streets alone ; a companion, a friend, a maid, should always be / Isont with them. Lady Thornton said, after one j^ear's experience of Washington, " I must bring on a very strict English governess to walk lahout with my girls." And in the various games so much in fashion now. 40 THK HOMK, FAUM AND BUSINESH CYCLOPAEDIA. such as skating and lawn-tenni.s, there is no douht as much necessity for acliaperon as in attending balls and parties. Not alone thai impropriety is to lie checked, but that inannors may be cultivated. A well-bred womdii who is .shocked at slang, and who presents in her own person a constant picture of good manners, is like the atmosphere, a presence whieli is felt, and who unconsciously educates the young persons about her. " I have never g(^tten over Aunt Lydia's smile," said a .soldier on tlu; plain.s, who, amid the terrible life of camp and the perils of Indian war- fare, had never lost the amenites of civilized life. "When a boy I u.sed to look up at the table, through along lino of boisterous children clamour- ing for food, and see my Aunt Lydia's face. lu never lost its serenity, and when things were going very wrong she had but to look at us and smile, to bring out all right. She seemed to say with that silent smile, ' Be patient, be strong, be gentle, and all will come right.' " The maiden aunt was a perpetual benediction in that house, because of her manner; it was, of course, the outcrop of a fine, well-regulated, sweet character; but supposing she had had the character with a disagreeabL' manner ? The result would have been lost. We have all visited in families where the large flock of children conio forward to meet us with outstretched hand and ready smile. We have seen them at table, peaceful and quiet, waiting their turn. We have also visited in other houses where we have found them discourteous, sullen, ill- mannered, and noisy. We know that the latter have all the talent, the good natural gifts, the originality, and the honour of the former. We know that the parents have just as much desire in the latter case to bring up their children well, but where have they failed ? They have wanted firmness and an attention to the amenities. IV. RESPECT FOR THE RIGHTS OF OTHERS. As boys and girls grow up to manhood and womanhood, parents shouM respect that nascent dignity which comes with the age — they should re- spect individuality. It is one reason, perhaps, why sisters cannot alway* live together happily, that neither has been taught to respect the other's strong peculiarity of character, at least in outward manner. If we treated our brothers and sisters with the same respect that we treat our formal acquaintances in matters of friendship, opinion, and taste, there would be greater harmony in households. r^'ii b n. HOME, SWEET HOME. One of the firs open your cliildi is ii curious olenu exists in some fai Certain coarse-<''r Dick and laugh a their daughter's I Perhaps in the any kind of wa extraordinary pre <,'irl is made bette: surveillance will < tongue to find wo j,'irls, trembling in ing, a belief in her her. Do not opei friends. She will were certain to be As for young be honesty, is the wa^ We have said befo If the rough-and-t no fear that the an all their polish as i A husband fhou! AH people ha /e t spect. A woman ( and clear head, is si people write to hei upon their belief ir Jent is not tellincr affiiir, her husband his jealousy will nc a wife open her hu: and Desdemona, nc not treating with s the old adage that letters is a fiict whi part of that thourd much tlie cause of u RESPKCT FOR THK RUIHTS OF OTHERS. 41 One of the first and most apparent duties is to respect a seal. Never open your children's letters after they are old enough to read them. It is a curious element of self-respect that this " community of letters " whicli exists in some families hurts the feelings of a young person from the first. Certain coarse-grained parents or relatives tear open Sam's letters from Dick and laugh at them. ( Jertain other parents consider it a duty to open their daughter's love-letters. Perhaps in the attem[)t to keep a daughter from marrying improperly, any kind of warfare is allowable. Extraordinary circumstances make extraordinary precautions proper ; but it should be the kist resort. No t^fjrl is made better by espionage. If she is a natural born Intriffuantf, no mrceillance will defeat her (we are glad to go out of the honest English tongue to find words to ex|)ress these hateful ideas). If she is, as are most l^firls, trembling in the balance between deceit and honesty, afair.open deal- ing, a belief in her, will bring her all right. Do not set servants to watcli her. Do not open her letters. Do not spy on her acts or abuse her friends. She will be far more apt to come right if she is treated as if she were certain to bo true, frank, and honourable in all her acts. As for young boys and men, belief in their word, confidence in their honesty, is the way to make them honourable gentlemen. Be careful, as We have said before, not to laugh at them ; respect their correspondence. If the rough-and-tumble of a public school is to be their portion, there is no fear that the amenities of home will make them effete. They will need all their polish as they go knocking through the world. A husband .'hould never open his wife's letters, or a wife her husband's. All people ha /e their individual confidences which each is bound to re- spect. A woman of large sympathies and wise thoughts-, of virtuous life and clear head, is sure to have considerable correspondence. Many weaker people write to her for advice, consolation, and help. It is an outrage upon their belief in her if her husband reads those letters. The correspon- ilent is not telling her secrets to him. If a wife is carrying on a love affliir, her husband may be quite sure that he will be bafHed ; therefore his jealousy will not be gratified on opening her letters. Still less should a wife open her husband's letters. But we are not in the days of Othello and Desderaona, nor are we dealing with passions and jealousies ; we are not treating with such questions as tliese. We will end this by repeating the old adage that " a seal is as strong as a lock." If the opening of letters is a fact which is treated carelessly in many families, it becomes a part of that thoughtless disregcrd of individuality which is remotely so much the cause of unhappiness at home. " Did we but think." says the 42 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. careless person. Exactly ! " Did we liut remember." Yes ! To think, to remember, to consider the claims of all about us, particularly at home, is the beginning of " the amenities." One should be particular about paying small debts to members of the family. Tom borrows car-fare from Dick and forgets to return it. Sarah bor- rows a dollar from Louisa and forgets to return it. Then come recrimina- tions and strife. There should be, in the first place, an effort to avoid bor- rowing. Nothing is so good for children as to give thom a small money allowance, and to insist upon its lasting. It teaches them economy and thrift. If this is possible, then instruct them in the impropriety of bor- rowing and the necessity of prompt payments. Of course this is all a part of the theory of respecting the rights of others. We are none of us too old or too perfect to be beyond instruction in this matter. And, in the education of the young, parents should encourage individu- ality. They should not try to smoothe off their children to a dead level of uniformity. If Flora can draw, put a pencil in her hand and encourage her. If Lucy can write, give her plenty of foolscap. If Bob wants to go to sea, let him strive to fit himself. If Arthur is a natural orator, bring him up for the law. If Charles is devotional, strive to fan the flame which may make him a preacher If Herbert has a tendency to save his pennies, try in the first place to make him philanthropic, so that he will not end in Iteing a miser ; but let him be educated to business. If Peter shows a de- cided taste for art, by all means cultivate it. We need artists in Canada, and they are no longer struggling visionaries. Our education of girls tends chiefly toward making them admirable figures in society, and to a certain extent this is right. But, if she has nothing behind that worldly training, the young girl is apt, after a short worldly experience, either to violently react and to hate it all ; she either grows morbidly sensitive to opinion, or she stagnates into conventionality — either of which extremes should be avoided. There is no sadder sight than to see our young women growing up with no high aims or thoughts to guide them. Society is her power. She is the future regenerator, the preserver of society. If her aims are high and pure, society will be high and pure. The sudden accession of wealth should not make people less well-man- nered. The pursuit of wealth is no doubt very destructible to good man- nera ; but when it is won, as it now is by so many on this continent, should it not bring back all those amenities, as we are bringing back the brocades, the bureaus, the old clocks, and the carved mantelpieces of our Canadian forefathers ? We are beginning to find out that they built better houses in older that their firepL their claw-footc manners of those were as well wo fireplaces which The picture o hand-kiss from 1 such a one of wl I once believed, the dignified ma( as neat and pretl hold duties, and i from youth to ag vanisued picture. The rich fai^e denly-acquii-ed W( Here and there, p iiccoming, endeav ays of Pompeii and Scotch histoi As for studies j foundation for th metic as they can culture which thi to it. But no mother the detriment of 1 then her mind n women brain-wor' makes them at on labour is a necessi grow strong and r same time eat and afraid of intellectu dent closely, else school .she may bn the inexperienced , To many a wom lies off nervousnesi a perfect armour a^ what the fashional tics is to the Eurof tellectual women. ill it, if she sees th( hear it. But WG fear that "lany a girl, partici THE MODEL GIRL. choice will be fl good one ; for she can find so much more good than bad. It is unwise to forbid girls to read novels. They are to-day the best reading. Fiction, too, is natural to the youthful mind. It is absurd to sappose that Heaven gave us our imagination and rosy dreams for noth- ing. They are the drapery of fact, and are intended to soften for us the (hoary outlines of duty. No girl was ever injured, if she were worth saving, by a little novel-reading. Indeed, the most ethical writers of the (lay have learned that, if a fact is worth knowing, it had better be con- veyed in tlie agreeable form of a fiction. What girl would ever learn so much of Florentine histor}!- in any other way as she learns by i-eading ' Ilomola ? " What better picture of the picturesque past than " The Last Days of Pompeii ? " Walter Scott's novels are the veriest mine of English and Scotch history ; and we might go on indefinitely. As for studies for girls, it is always best to teach them Latin, as a solid foundation for the modern languages, if for nothing else ; as much arith- metic as they can stand ; and then go on to the higher education and the culture which their mature minds demand, if they desire it and are equal to it. But no mother should either compel or allow her daughter to study to the detriment of her health. The moment a girl's body begins to suft'oi, then her mind must be left free from intellectual labour. With some women brain-work is impossible. It produces all sorts of diseases, and makes them at once a nervous wreck. With other women intellectual labour is a necessity. It is like exercise of the limbs. It makes them grow strong and rosy. No woman who can study and write, and at the same time eat and sleep, preserve her complexion and her temper, need be afraid of intellectual labour. But a mother must watch her young stu- dent closely, else in the ardour of emulation amid the excitements of .school .she may break down, and her health leave her in an hour. It is the inexperienced girl who ruins her health by intellectual labour. To many a woman intellectual labour is, however, a necessity. It car- ries off" nervousness ; it is a delightful retreat from disappointment ; it is a perfect armour against ennui. What the convent life is to the devotee, what the fashionable arena is to the belle, what the inner science of poli- tics is to the European woman of ambition, literary work is to certain in- tellectual women. So a mother need not fear to encourage her daut^hter in it, if she sees the strong growing taste, and finds that her health will bear it. But we fear that certain fashionable schools have ruined the health of many a girl, particularly those where the rooms are situated at the top of y 46 THE HOME, FARM VND BUSINESS CYCLOP.-EDIA. ■ ■ 'I, i;' ! .'I'' J a four-story building, as they generally are. A poor, panting, weary girl mounts these cruel steps to begin the incomprehensibly difficult service of a modern school. " Why do you never go out at recess ? " said a teadier to one of her pupils. " Because it hurts my heart so much to come up the stairs," said the poor girl. " Oh ! but you should take exercise," said the teacher ; " Look at Louisa's colour ! " That teacher knew as much of pathology as she did of Hottentot ; and the pupil thus advised lies to-day a hopeless invalid on her bed. VI. THE MAMEES OF YOUNG MEN. But, if the amenities of home are thus hopefully to direct our daughters in the right way, what will they do for our sons ? Of one thing we may be certain, there is no royal road by which we can make "good young men." The age is adissolute one. The story of temptation and indulgence is not new nor finished. The worst of it is that women feed and tempt the indulgence of the age. Women permit a lack of respect. Even young men who have been well brought up by their mothers become careless when associating with girls who assume the manners and customs of young men. And when it is added that some women in good society hold lax ideas, talk in doable entendre, and encourage instead of repres- sing license, how cnn young men but be demoralized ? If women show disapproval of coarse ideas and oflensive habits, men drop those ideas and habits. A woman is treated by men exactly as sliu elects to be treated. There is a growing social blot in our society. It is the complacency wich which women bear contemptuous treatment from men. It is the low order at which they rate themselves, the rowdiness of their own conduct, the forgiveness on the part of women of all mascu- line sins of omission, that injures men's manners irretrievably. Fast men and women, untrained boys and girls, people without cultuic, are doing much to injure modern societ}'. They are injuring the immense social force of good manners. Women should remember this part of their duty. Men will not be chivalrous or deferential unless women wish them to be. The amenities of home are everything to a -boy. Without them very few men can grow to be gentlemen. A man's religion is learned at his mother's knee ; and often that powerful recollection is all that he cares for on a subject which it is daily becoming more and more of a fashion for men to igno there, if anywhe gives her son, as powerful aids o not approve of d said, he wished " over the piano. The education some poor boys ai difficult to either how hard it is for really over ? On< ■study, and were v true that one almc hoy how to go a\\ leally an iraportar One great argun hig to stand up, t shambling to step he had had a milit; stait with." There are some always obey thu bi command. To tho of home should be the boy to his moti: And table mann liome! A mother indecision at table. "nd to eat quietly, teaches him such ca iiuist teach him to h to use his napkin pi ph'shnients early, it Teach your boy the governed, well-ordei flustered if he upsets ciioking fit require h leaves you, he essays THE MANNERS OF YOUNG ^lEN, 47 for men to ignore. His politeness and deference are certainly learned there, if anywhere. A mother must remember that all hints which sho gives he** son, as to a graceful and gentlemanly bearing, are so many powerful aids o his advancement in the world. A clergyman who did not approve of dancing still sent his son to dancing-school, because, as he said, he wished "him to learn to enter a drawing-room without stumblinir over the piano. The education of the body is a very important thing. The joints of some poor boys are either too loosely or too tightly hung, and they tind it difficult to either enter or leave a room gracefully. " Don't you know how hard it is for some people to get out of a room after their visit is really over ? One would think they had been built in your parlour or study, and wore waiting to be launched," says Dr. Holmes. This is so true that one almost may suggest that it be a part of education to teach a lioy how to go away. The " business of salutation " and leave-taking is really an important part of education. One great argument for a military exercise is that it teaches the stoop- ing to stand up, the lagging to walk, the awkward to be graceful, the shambling to step accurately. Lord Macaulay in his old age wished that he had had a military training, as he " never had known which foot to start with." There are some persons born into the world graceful, whose bodies always obey the brain. There are fai" more who have no such physical command. To those who have it not, it must be taught. The amenities of home should begin with the morning salutation, a graceful bow from the boy to his mother, as he comes into breakfast. And table manners, what a large part they play in the amenities of home ! A mother should teach her boy to avoid both greediness and indecision at table. He should be taught to choose what he wants at once iind to eat quietly, without unnecessary mumbling noise. Unless she teaches him such cai'e early, he will hiss at his soup through life. She must teach him to hold his fork in his right hand, and to eat with it, and to use his napkin properly. If Dr. Johnson had been taught these accom- plishments early, it would have been more agreeable for Mrs. Thrale. Teach your boy the grace of calmness. Let the etiquette of the well- governed, well-ordered table be so familiar to him that he will not be 1 thistered if he upsets a wine-glass, or utterly discomposed if a sneeze or a U'hoking fit require his sudden retreat behind his napkin, when, after he leaves you, he essays to dine abroad. 48 THE HOMK, FARM AND Bl'SIXESS CYCLOP-^^DIA. Nothing is better for the practice of the amenities of home than a lijjorous determination to dress for dinner. This does not mean tliat \\\' should he expensively or showily dressed, hut that every member of the family should appear clean and brushed, and with some change of garment. A few minutes in the dressing room is not too much of a tax to even tin.' busiest man, and he comes down much refreshed to Ids meal. A lady hardly needs any urging on this point ; but, if any one does need urging, it is certainly worth mentioning. Several years ago a growing family of boys and girls were taken hv their parents, who had experienced a reverse of fortune, to the neighbour- hood of the oil-wells to live. It was about the time they were growing up, and their mother was in despair as she thought of the lost opportunities of her children. Nothing about them but ignorance. No prospect, no schools, no anything. But in the depth of her love she found inspiration. Out of the wreck of her fortunes she had saved enough to furnisli parlour and dining-room prettily, and to buj' a few handsome lamps. Books were there in plenty, for old books sell for very little ; so she had been able to save that important factor of civilization. Every evening her lamps were lighted and her dinner spread as if for a feast ; and every member of the family was made to come in as neatly ilressed as if it were a party. The father and mother dressed carefully, and the evening was enlivened by music and reading. She attended to their education herself, although not fitted for it Ly her own training. She did as well as she could. She taufifht them to bow and to courtesy, to dance, to draw, to paint, to play and sing ; that is, .she started them in all these accomplishments. In five years, when better fortunes brought them to the city again, they were as well-bred as their city cou.sin.s, and all her friends applauded her spiiit. This wfus done, too, with only the assistance of one servant, and sometimes with not even that. It required enormous courage, persistence, and belief in the amenities of home. How many women, under such doleful circumstances, would liavu .sunk into sloveliness and despair, and have allowed their flock to ruii wild, like the neighbouring turkeys ! There is great hope for country children who are surrounded by a certain prosperity and agreeable surroundings. They see more of their parents than city children can ; and perhaps the ideal home is always in the country. Those small but cultivated Canadian villages, those inland cities, those rural neighbourhoods, where nature helps the mother, where the natural companionship of animals is possible fo.v the boys, and the pony comes to the fishing, and in w beautiful home arc man can be reared .lelighted to depict We could paint J for all our theories, from the lowest de( gem, without ances Tlie education c fashionable educati disdain of the solid —the worst faults not fashionable or c ority engendered ir offensive. All snob detestable. A young man of f becoming, and to ass love for discussing e^ ! be has no true ideas and grows nrore an( becomes the law of h His outward varnis inner worthlessness. '^Uhe wood. Some I 'lieart. None of these korld breeding of wh kover up their p.overtj % truly believe— t ionable mother, an aii r^wld. It is astonishi pbole way. No youth, bred in a |«P to be very much c Funkard, a gambler, a wat great cruel stone I'^'-ought and prayed to It is the oce who sin punishment. D THE MANNERS Olj" YOUNG MEN. 49 / pony comes to tlie door for the girls ; where water is near for boating and fishing, and in winter for the dear delights of skating — such is the beautiful home around which the memory will for ever cling. The ideal man can be reared thcr» , one would think — that ideal man whom Richter delighted to depict, one whose loving heart is the beginning of knowledge. We could paint the proper place for the ideal man to be born in, if, alas ! for all our theories, he did not occasionally spring out of the slums, ascend from the lowest deeps, and confute all our theories by being nature's best crein, without ancestry, without home, without help, without culture. The education of boys in cities is beset with difficulties; for the fashionable education may lead to self-sufficiency and conceit, with a disdain of the solid virtues ; or it may lead to efTerainacy and foppishness —the worst faults of a Canadian. These two last faults are, however, not fashionable or common faults in our day. There is a sense of superi- ority engendered in the " smart young man," so called, which is very- offensive. All snobs are detestable ; the Canadian snob is preeminently \/ detestable. A young man of fashion is apt to get him a habitual sneer, which is not becoming, and to assume an air of patronage, which is foolish. He has a love for discussing evil things, which has a very poor effect on his mind ; he has no true ideas of courtesy or good breeding; he is thoroughly selfish, and grows more and more debased in his pleasures, as self-indulgence becomes the law of his life. His outward varnish of manner is so thin that it does not disguise his inner worthlessness. It is like that varnish which discloses the truejjrain of the wood. Some people of showy manners are thoroughly ill-bred at 1 heart. None of these men have the tradition of fine manners, that old- j world breeding of which we have spoken. They would be then able to cover up their |ioverty ; but they have not quite enough for that; and they truly believe — these misguided youths — that a rich father, a fash- ionable mother, an air of ineffable conceit, will carry them through the world. It is astonishingly' true that it goes a great way, but not the I whole way. No youth, bred in a thoroughly virtuous and respectable family, grows |up to be very much of a snob, let us hope. Alas ! he may become a punkard, a gambler, a failure. And then we come up standing against that great cruel stone wall, that unanswered question, " Why have I [wrought and prayed to no purpose ? " And who shall answer us ? It is the one who sins least who is found out, and who gets the most punishment. 50 THE IiOME, FARM AN© BUSINESS CYCI.OP-EDIA. There is a pathetic goodness about some great sinners which they never lose. We love the poor fallen one whom we try to save. Never are the amenities of home more precious, more sacred, more touching, than when they try to help the faltering, stuml)ling footstep, to hide the disgrace, to shelter the guilty, to ignore, if possible, the failing which easily besets the prodigal son ; to welcome him back when society has discarded him ; to be patient with his pettishness, and to cover his faults with the mantle of fori'iveness : all these arc too tragic, too noble, too sacred for us to dilate upon. They are the amenities of heaven. Society makes no explanations and asks none, else we might ask why some men and women are tolerated, and why others are cast out i Why some young man wlio had once forgotten himself after dinner is held up to scorn, and why another is foi'given even through the worst scandal ? Why is injustice ever done ? Many a young man, having experienced injustice at the hands of society, goes off and deliberately commits moral suicide. The conduct of society is profoundly illogical, and we can not reform it. vn. CONSIDEEATION FOE EACH OTHER. Too great care can not be taken in the family circle of each other's feel- ings. Never attack your brother's friend. Remember that if we are at all individual we can not liko the same people, see the same resemblance, or enjoy always the same book. Temperaments differ. One feels a draught and wishes the window shut while another is stifling with heat. Were we among strangers, we .should simply bear with the draught or the heat without speaking. At home it grows into a quarrel. " I am so glad Louisa has gone away, for now I can shut the window," said a sister once, who found it so impossible to live with her family that on coming into her property she very wisely took a house by herself. Perhaps they could not live in the same atmosphere. Great care is necessary in remarks about looks. Never tell people that they are looking ill. If they are sensitive, as most people are about their health, the information that they look ill will make them worse. The questions and the searching glance of a kind mother will have to be borne, for she is the natural custodian of the health of her family ; but even that annoys most people. A due regard for the feelings of her family will teach her, in nine cases out of ten, to hide the anxiety she may feel. (.'ONSIDKRATIOX FOR KACH OTHER. 51 Cheerfulness is very necessary in the family. If a poison is really ill, we shall find it out soon enouj^'h. If he ilesires sympathy he will come for it, but if he is really ailin<,', and desirous of concealing it, wesliould respect his secret, not strive to worm it from hin',. Many people are made ill by beinf^ told that they are ill. An invalid once said that the sunshine had all been taken out of his morning walk by the lugubrious looks of a friend, who shook his head, and said, " ^ly dear fellow, I nmst confess that you are looking very badly." But there is a class whom Moliore has painted in the " Malade Imaginairi'," who desire nothing more than to be considered ill, who are always looking for sympathy and llatter3\ The amenities of home should suriound the real invalid with flowers, sunshine, agreeable company, if it can be borne, and variety. It is often that the sick-room of some confirmed sufferer is the most cheerful room in the house. If there is a pretty new thing in the possession of any mem- lier of the family, it finds its way to patient Helen's couch. If there is a new book, it goes to her to have its leaves cut ; and if any one has a song or story, how (piickly it ascends to that person ! "I never knew how haj^py a home I possessed until I broke my leg," said a young man, to whom a broken leg was a fearful interruption to business and pleasure. Remember always to give a sick per.son what variety you can com- mand. Some sufferers from fever require to have the pictures changed on the wall. Some invalids, who are prisoners for years in a room, are better for a new wall-paper or a new carpet. Nothing can be so grateful as a coun- try prospect of wood and water, hill and dale, the sky at morning and at evening. The city is a hard place for the chronic invalid who can see noth- ing but the opposite row of houses. However, the scene may be varied by the presence of birds and flower;*; and a well-bred, favourite dog, parti- cularly a big one, is a great help. The amenities of the sick-room and the proper management of it are ' ubjects which have, however, been so well treated by Florence Nightin- gale and others, who have made them a study, that they seem hardly a part of our little treatise. The mistress of a house should never reprove her servants at table or . / hefore her assembled family. It destroys many a meal at home, and drives young men to their club, if their mother insists upon using her voice loudly in reproving a refractory servant. No doubt she is often tempted ; no doubt it is very necessary ; no doubt it requires an angelic patience to refrain. But she should refrain ; she should be angelic. Let the man drop the plates ; she must be " mistress of herself, though China fall !" Let the (» 32 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCDOP/EOIA. maid como in with bare, red arms and a frowsy cap ; the mistress must bear it all in silence, nor seem to see it, however dreadful it may be. Then let her descend upon the faulty one, and, in' the retirement of the front basement, have it out with her. Some women have a gift at training servants which is like the talent which generals have in handling an army. They can, by their own per- .sonal magnetism, make a servant refrain from clattering plates. Others have no such gift. They are from first to last the slaves of their servants, afraid of then), and unable to cope with them. " Oh ! that I could make a request which is a command as you do," said one of the inefficient to the efficient. It is, perhaps, a talent which can not be learned ; certainly, after many failures, we do not wonder that the women who can not manage servants give up housekeeping, and go to the hotels and boarding-houses. A model hostess is said to be one who has a kiiowlflgc of the world that nothing can impair, a calmness of temper which nothing can disturb, and a kind- ness of disposition which can never be exhausted. Now, that is ratlier an unusual character. A hostess should certainly have self-control, and should not reprove her servants before comjiany. She should have tact, good- breedliif', and self-possession. Even then she may not liave the talent tu create good service out of the raw material — the clay which Ireland sends to her. Slie can only suffer and be silent. We have spoke of the impropriety of attacking our brother's friends. If we can not like them, we can refrain from knowing them intimately ; but let us always also refrain from speaking ill, or " making fun" of those persons who are liked by other members of the family. There are some families — not the happiest ones — where this is done constantly. If Ed- mund likes Jack, who is peculiar, William and Susan make all manner of " game" of Jack, and he is thus excluded from the house. Edmund hesi- tates to invite him, as he knows he will be pained by these ill-natured comments. Certain families have a sort of acrid disagreeability, which they call wit, which overflows in this way, and which makes home any- thing but a liappy place. Young people are little aware how badly they appear as satirists. They do not knovt^ enough, as a general thing, to satirize wisely. It takes a great and learned person to do that. Young persons should be optimists, and should admire rather than condemn. They should learn that culti- vated persons rarely have to resort to such weapons as coarse censure and crude ridicule. And, even if in the height of good spirits and youthful fun, they feel like ridiculing the friend whom their brother has chosen. CONSIDKRATION FOR EAOM OTIIKR. 53 let them make the case their own, and try to imagine how they would like to hear their own favourite friend abused. Long arguments are very unwise, and almost always lead to harsh, un- pleasant feeling. If there is a difference of religion in the family, it should never be spoken of at table. Many a youthful convert to some other creed has been driven from liome by the thoughtlessness and un- kind remarks of his family. The subject of religion sliould be rarely or never introduced between more than two talkers. The expressions of even earnest believers are necessarily so vague that the C(mversation can rarely do any good ; and it is far wiser for the youth to go alone to the clergyman who^n he selects, or to talk to his father, mother, or chosen friend on this most important of all subjects. Still l)etter is it to take prayerful counsel of his own heart. Never make it dinner-table talk ; for it cither becomes flippant and irreverent, or it leads to violent (juarrels and sometimes to deadly hatreds. A difference of political sentiment also is dangerous to the amenities of home. Brothers had better not indulge in much discussion in the family ciivle. They can not feel as coolly to each other as ordinary disputants — that is impossible. They can only differ, and often cjuarrel. The few who, in the familiai-ity of home, can coolly argue are indeed very few. The wise and learned Phillips Brooks says truly, " Faiiuliarity does not breed contempt, except of contemptible things or contemptible people." This is very true. But we must remember that familiarity does take off the outer cuticle, and leave us very defenceless. We are not the same strong-handed, steel-visaged personages to our own family that we are to the outer world. They know us too well, and we know them too well. We are fighting without gloves with our own people. The bitterness and hurt of a family quarrel is a proverb. Never interrupt each other. Let' each speaker have his five minutes, and say out his say. There are some people so notoriously ill-bred in this way that they are nuisances in their own houses. They talk on — on — on, and notice the speech of others not a jot. Others interrupt when one has begun a sentence, and have no sort of regard for the fact that even the lady of the house has been ti-ying to make a remark for some time. Hesi- tating, slow talkers are very apt to be ruled out by fluent ones. Other people have a deliberate intention of spoiling a story or an epigram by sailing in across the bows of another ; and a still more reprehensible class lead up the conversation to a mot or an anecdote which they wish to tell. It is a great sin against good-breeding to interrupt a person who is mak- ing a remark or about to make one, or to speak before he has quite fin- 54 THK HOME, FARM AND Dl'SINESS CYCLOP-ICDIA. i.slied. Tlie slow talker usually 1ms soinotliing very <,'ood to sa}-, and the word which ho is trying to find is worth waiting for. Tlie fast and flip- pant talker sweeps all before him with his weak diaphanous discourse. Wo one is much the wiser for his delu-aw. Above aii, he is leading a happy, healthy, and independent life. To be sure, his hands are hard and somewhat less white than they were. But polo and cricket would have ruined his hands. His figure is erect, and his face is ruddy. He has not lost his talent in the elegant drawjnff-rooin, but can still dance the German to admiration. He is doing a great woik and setting a good example ; for he is, as we Canadians say, " making it pay." To be sure, he has a great taste for a farmer's life. No one should go into it who has not. But what a certainty it is ! Seed-time and harvest nevor fail. PROFESSIONS FOR WOMEN. 61 It would seem, while there is so much to bo done on this continent with her railroads, oil-wells, mines, farms, and wheat-fields, her numerous in- dustries and requirements, that no man need be poor. Our sons can find something to do, something to turn a hand to. The teaching of home should be in this particular age of the world to inculcate " plain living and high thinking " in our sons. That is what they need to be great and good men, and useful citizens. X. PKOFESSIONS FOR WOMEN. If the commercial distress which visited this country between the years of 1873 and 1879 had brought us no other benefit, amidst the vast deal of suffering and ruin which occurred to a people who had been living too fast, it did this immense good : it tauf^^it women that tl^ey could work and could earn money. It has been no uncommon thing for the wife and the sister to support the family during those dreadful years, now liappily past. Men are broken and discouraged when the ordinary business of their lives fails them. They have not the versatility of women, they have not woman's hope. It probably seemed to many a ruined father that there was little hope in the accomplishments of his daughter. She could paint a plaque very prettily, perhaps write tolerable poetry ; " but that would not pay the butcher." The fact remains that it did pay the butcher. One aelicate woman during these dreadful years has supported seven men — seven discouraged, ruined, idle men, and slie has done it very well too. The Decorative Art Society could tell a very good story of woman's work, and the sister societies for the aid of women have a noble record on their books. Wood-carving, embroidery of a very high class, drawing, painting, music-teaching, authorship, engraving on wood and modelling, are all now well and profitably done by women. To be reporters for newspapers, law reporters in the courts, and even lawyers and doctors are also added on. The training-schools for nurses have opened a new and beneficent field for the cultivated, conscientious girl, who is willing to devote herself to the care of the sick. She can now do her work under a certain direction of the law and authority, which give it dignity. To be an artist, and a suc- cessful one, is a career which is opening more and more to w^omen. To paint, to illustrate books, to give fresh ideas to the world with her brush V v'' G2 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. is a noble career for nny young woman. It requires talent, patienoe, enormous industry, and some courage, to endure jealous criticism. The quarrel in Edinburgh respecting the female doctors, and the oppo- sition every whei-e to the entrance of women upon men's chosen fields aie fresh enough in the memory of our readers. We need not enter upon this subject here. Women of heroic force have great difficulty in finding their places in the world. They are too active, too full of the unrest of genius, to be always happy at home ; the great woman is, when young, like the ugly duckling. She does not please her mother or gratify her sisters. She does not like to go to parties — society bores her. She may not be pretty; if she is, she does not care for compliments. If a great philanthropist, like Florence Nightingale or Sister Dora, is being developed for the use of the world, ten to one this particular bird is too large for the nest, and discom- fits all the rest. A woman of literary gifts, like Miss Martineau, who is being brougiit up to plain sewing, and who has to come to her real work through much family strife and contention, is no doubt very disagreeable and troublesome to those who have no strivings, no immortal fire to take care of. Such women generally leave a record of much sufitM'ing, of early injustice, of the unkindness of relatives, behind them, and claim that, had they been treated better and better understood, they would have been finer charac- ters and more useful to their day and generation. There is no doubt of the fact that a narrow-minded mother has oitoii ruined the development and the usefulness of her gifted daughter. She least of all comprehends the child who, though her very own, has all the qualities of another race. It once gave a very good mother the most acute pain because her daughter threw an apple-paring into the fiie exactly like her aunt Clarissa. " What do you want to do that for, ex- actly like your aunt ?" was the angry question. Aunt Clarissa was the father's sister, and particularly disagreeable to the mother. It was a perfectly honest and irresistible disgust. We can imagine how much more powerful it would be if carried beyond apple-parings. A young artist in Paris, who made a good living for her mother and sister, declared with tears that she had never been forgiven by either of them for deserting her sewing-machine for the palette, and it was evident that she was not clear in her own mind as to whether she had not dis- graced herself. These are instances t'f narrowness happily conspicuous, and we hope fevv. But should not parents deeply consider them, and ask themselves if they have a even if it does aimed at social so disgusted w would not alio' " Perhaps yo disease as your " No, never, offended mothe She lived to lent health and what was good But it is an ui are so strongly c duty. The haf amused by socit married to the women, good wi' distinguished, w man, and certain doubt of the i^ror and her happiest Anything can or the wretched by supposing th; useless woman w She has always a ance, let her bet her learn to ( sibly— and work keep a boardinf^^-l become the mana imd wait for sonit are now drarwind liouse, turning th( brave in their yoi fortable competen Piide, and that hai PKOFESSIONS FOR WO.MKX. G3 if they have a right to interfere with the chosen vocation of a daughter, even if it does seem to tlicni to be eccentric ? We know a niotlier who aimed at social distinction and a rich marriage for her duughter, wlio was so disgusted with her for choosing to become a doctor that she fell ill and would not allow her to care for or nurse her. " Perhaps you had better try homoeopathy, and take the cause of your disease as your cure," said her fanuly physician. "No, never. I would rather die than be cured by Helen," said tho urt'ended mother. She lived to forgive Helen, who now supports her, and she is in excel- lent health and spirits at sixty-five. Probably Helen therefore knew best what was good for her. But it is an unlucky thing for the amenities of home when the daugl iters are so strongly disposed to leave the ordinary walks of every-day foininine duty. The happiest women are those who can lead the ordinary life, be amused by society, dre.ss, and conventionalities, and who can be early married to the man of their choice, and become in their turn domestic women, good wives and mothers. There is no other work, no matter how distinguished, which equals this. But, if this life does not come to a wo- man, and certainly it does not to a very largo number, there can be no doubt of the propriety of a woman's finding her own sphere, her own work and her happiest and most energetic usefulness. Anything can be forgiven of a woman except a career of vice or vanity, or the wretched numbness of inaction. No woman should insult her Maker by supposing that He made a mistake in making her, A morbid or a useless woman was not contemplated in the great plan of tlie universe. She has always a sphere. If home is uuha[)py beyond her power of euilur- ance, let her " Go teach the orphan boy to reaJ, The ori)han yirl to sew. " Let her learn to cook, bake, brew ; let her adopt a profession — music, [)os- sibly — and work at it. Let her go into a lady's school and teach. Let her keep a boarding-house, paper walls, hand pictures, embroider, dust, sweep, become the manager of a business, do anything but sit down and mope, and wait for something to turn up. Alany a pair of unhappy oUl maids are now dragging out a miserable existence in a second-class boardino-- house, turning their poor little bits of fmery, who might, if they had been brave in their youth, have won a large repertoire of thought and a com- fortable competency. But they preferred to keep alive one little corner of pride, and that has been but a poor fire to sit by to warm their thin hands 64 THE HOMK, FAIIM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. — hands which .should not have hoeii ashamed to work, hands which would have heen winter lor honest efforts. The prejudice against literary women has so rnuch disappeared that it requires no woid of encouragement now to women to try literature as a means of getting a living. Indeed, so many more try writing than have the gitt for it that it would perhai)s be wise to recommend a great many to try anything rather than that. To write well nmst be in the first place a gift; all have it not. To ho sure, it r'so requires will, persistency, and the most enormous industry. No one ever wrote well who had not gone through many an hour of pai)i, disn-ust at the work, and a crucial test of the hard labour that is to bring from the brain its purest gold. But even the industrious can not always write ; and if a woman does not write well she generally writes very poorly. She can not do machine work as well as a man can. Therefore, if she have no inspiration, she had better throw down the pen. Women, by reason of their health, are sometimes debarred from taking up any very exacting out-of-door work. This was, in the opinion of an Kdinburgh surgeon (the particular enemy of Miss Jex Blake), an unan- swerable argument against their becoming physicians and surgeons. The fact remains that they have become both. Therefore, we can never say what a woman can not do. We could hardly train our daughters to be car conductors, soldiers, or police-officers, the three trades which are always thrown in the face of woman's suffragists ; but it remains to be seen why they should not play in orchestras, become jewellers and watch-makers, wood-carvers, and inter- nal decorators, that branch of household art now so fashionable and so profitable. One energetic woman in France has made a large fortune by raising hens and chickens. Another in the west is a good practical farmer, taking care of ten thousand acres, and making money surely and rapidly. It will repay all women to inquire what were Madame de Genlis' seventy trades, and which one, or two, .she will learn. There is another reason for learning a trade or an accomplishment, and that is for the pleasure which it gives to an otherwise idle lady. Many a woman, after her children are married, finds herself with days to get v'ld of which have no possible pleasure in them, Her occupation is gone, and .she needs the help of something to carry off weary, unprofitable hours. Slw generally, in these days, takes to pa.nting ])laques, and plates, fans and reticules — which is very good as long a? it lasts. It does not last very long to a woman of active mind. She needs to throw in charities and outsido action, to oixrai tininask abuse iiiidone , that i hour's thou;i,']it. Tlio sc'heiut' i i»y many most elusion and life of im[)risonment and ritnalistic mummery in wliich we ProtestMiits do not helieve, has grown out of the necessity which iiiiiuarried women feel for a vocation. There can be no harm in the institution of Protestant sisterhoods so long as the sistei's take no positive vow. It will not hurt women to enter a religious house, work under a lady superior in instructing the ignorant, raising the fallen, helping the poor, so long as they do not lock the door on themselves and give the key into another hand. There is no one who can be trusted with the custody of our liberty but ourselves. A clergy- man may be a very good man, but he is still simjily a fallible man ; and he may mistake very much his duty when a Protestant sister tells him that she desires to leave her work if he tells her that she can not. She may know very much better than he. It is all very well to bind one's self to a good work for a year or two years, that there may be consistency ill the enterprise ; but a longer or a final term is not consistent with that freedom which God has given us. XL THE INFLUENCE OF AGED PEOPLE. V There is no genre picture so ornamental to the fireside as an old lady with Uiey curls. Home should alway contain a grandmother, old aunt, or some relative who has seen the world, lived her life, and who is now waiting gently for the news which came co Christiana in the " Pilgrim's Progress," meantime taking a pleasant interest in the little tragedy or comedy of every-day life, and being the particular providence of the younger chil- dren. Such an old lady is as agreeable as she is ornamental. So important is the respectability of a virtuous ancestor to the nouveau rlche, that Dickens says, in his immortal way, of the Veneerings, " that, if they had wanted a grandfather, they would have ordered him fresh from Fortnum's iind Mason's. He would have come round with tlie pickles." A grandfather is a very useful article, whether to quote from or to enjoy daily. An agreeable old man is the most delightful acquisition to any E ■ • «6 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCI.OP/EDIA. society. It is, perhaps, one reason why the English dinner-table is so pre- eminently at^reeiiblt!, that old men keep themselves so very fresh, liealtliy, youthful in feeling, while they are, of course, full of th" results of cxpeii- ence. A man in England at sixty-tive has not allowed himself to grow careless of dress or appearance. He is not sunk in the apathy or preoccu- pation of old age, even at eighty. To keep liiniself an cuaraiit witli the excitements of the hour has lieen his rule through life. We who live nuist live every hour. We nuisL cultivate those who arc younger as a weary tra- veller .stooi)s to drink of the fresh spring which bubbles up {it his feet. It will not do for us to seal tip in a bottle the wine which was good when we were young, and drink only that ; we must go ever to the fresher vineyards. It is not given to us all to remember a kindly grandfather ; but, to those wlio can do so, it is the most agreeable perhaps of childhooil's memories. The lovely old lady is a great treasure in a household, has often agree- able accomplishments in the way of needlework and knitting, has a pei- fect store of excellent recipes for cakes and custards, and knows the most delightful old-fashioned games of cards. She has mannei's, too, learned in a better school than ours. She is stately, courteous, a little formal. She makes a beautiful courtesy. She tells us liow she was taught to do " laid work," to sew furs, to conserve currants, to sit up and not touch the back of her chair. Her figure shows that a good spine is the result of her early training. She i.« the one who is never tired of the society of the growing girls, and who has at twilight the prettiest stories of the time vvlien .she was a young lady and Grandpapa came a-courting. It seems, seen througli the tender light of tradition, as if tho.se were ni.^re romantic days than ours. No doubt she has treasiu'es of old lace and brocade, whicli come out for dolls' dresses and pincushions. She is very apt at Christmas-tide to produce unexpected tieasurcs. To comfort and encourage the faltering, fainting mother when the new cares of maternity seem almost beyond her strength, who so invaluable as the old lady ? To soothe the boys and girls when the business of life has removed for a moment their immediate guardian, who so nice as Grandmamma ? For young fathers and mothers have their own lives to live. They must be excused if they wish to go to dinners, and parties, and to Europe witli- out the children. Indeed, while the husband is making the fortune, and the wife is keeping house, and living out the business of youth, it some- times seems a pity that the bearing of children should be thrown in. An English economist gravely proposed that children should ba born to the old, who have gotten through with wishing to live, and who would be very TIIK INKI.UKXCE OF AUED PKOPLK. 67 miioli ainusctl with tlio business of the imrsinj^f, all other business havin^ ccJiscJ to Jiiuuso theui. Younj^ people Imvc a deal else to amuse thorn, no doubt, and a family of children often seems a great bother to them; but the fact remains that they are ordained to cope with this particular business, and theyalono have the strength to bear with the ceaseless activity of childhood. Chil- dvon after a time fatigue the old. The other side of the picture is this, also. Old people are not always ai,free;ible, particularly old mi'n, in a houselmld. Grandpapa may bo very ;,'outy and very cross, very urneasonable in his requirements, and uncertain as to his hours. He may rap an unwary urchin over tlie head before ho knows it with Ids cane, and come down severely on the subject of the o'uls' new dresses. If Grandpapa holds the purse-strings, he is a terrible power. It is not often, however, that ricli old men are disobeyed or neg- lected. Human seltisliness is too wary. Old men generally are not so agreeable in a household as old women. Thoy are caged lions, if disease has crippled them ; they torment them- selves and those with whom they live ; they feel the deprivation of that power and tliat importance which once made up their lives. They have Dever, perhaps, cultivated the domestic virtues. So nmch the better for the amenities of liome if the household bear all this with patience, and all try to remember all that Grandpapa did for them when he was young and strong. No matter what are the disagree- able traits of the old, we must bear them upon our young and strong backs. It is one of the privileges of home that we can do this duty, and help old aco to bear its sorrows. How manifold are those evils — the loss of sisfht, the loss of hearing, the aggravation of the nerves, the rheumatic pains ! Dr. Johnson, in the " Rambler," says : " A Greek epigrammatist, intend- ing tosho\ 'the miseries that attend the last stage of man, imprecates upon those who are so foolish as to wish for long life the calamity of continuing to grow from mtury to century. He thought that no adventitious or foreign pain was lequisite, that decrepitude itself was an epitome of what- ever is dreadful, and nothing could be added to the curse of age but that it sliould be extended beyond its proper limits." " It would be well," says Colton, " if old age diminished our perceptibil- ities to pain in the same proportion that it does our sensibilitees to plea- sure, and, if life has been termed a feast, those favoured few are the most fortunate guests who are not compelled to sit at the table when they can no longer partake of the banquet. But the misfortune is that body and mind, like man and wife, do not always agree to die together. It is bad I 68 THE HOME, 1 ARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. when the mind survives the body, and worse still when the body survives the mind ; but when both these survive our spirits, our hopes, and our health, this is worst of all." Many old peo|)le who come upon their middle-aged children for support and consolation have reached the latter condition. And no doubt tley an a very heavy burden. Many an ill-tempered old person has ruined the life of a devoted son or daughter. But the duty remains. It is one whicJi. must not be shirked, even if it descends to a grand-daughter. Little Nell did her duty, and only her duty. It has remained for Dickens to depict, as only he can, the burden of un- just and Avicked parents upon virtuous children, Indeed, he has been i>iamed for grinding up his own father in paint, and therefrom construct- ing the characters of Turveydrop, Mr. Dorrit, and Mr. Micawber. One can but feel regret that a youth such as Dickens passed had eradicated much that was delicate and desirable i- the way of reticence. Yet the world needed the lesson. There are depths in the heart of man which can only be reached by such i-evelations : £,nd we can but hope that some thoroughly selfish and unworthy parents have read and i)rofited by these lessons ; that a Turveydrop may have seen himself, and have ceased to live on his chil- dren ; that a Dorrit may have been ashamed of his pretence and turgidity • a Micawber, more lovable than the others, have been aroused from Ms wcrthless dreams ! Severity and censoriousness in the old alienate youthful affections, and the old should constantly bear m mind that, if they would keep the affec- tions of their descendants, they must cultivate amiability. As Dr. John- :^on says, to again quote his wise words : " There are many who live mere- ly to hinder happiness, and whose descendants can only tell of long life, that it produces suspicion, malignity, peevishness, and persecution ; and yet even these tyrants can talk of the ingratitude of ihe age, curse their heirs for impatience, and wonder that young men can not take pleasure in their father's compan}-. " He that would pass the latter part of his life with honour and decency must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old, and remem ber when he is old, that he has once been young. In youth he must lay up knowledge for his support when his pow.rs of acting shall forsake him ; and in age forbear to animadvert with vigour on faults which ex- perience only can correct." Those who are endeavouring to make home happy, and who are baffled j by the peevishness of an old person, must try to strengthen themselvos in the good work by every argiuuent in favour of old age, making every ex- cuse for it ; an .selves, " I shall that my childn Home shoulc they are those those whose un of eighty years, cast down, horn sid^r them as a THE "The methods tendencies of hu Mothers must children give the education of a cl actions, the w^ord tion of child reni own conclusions, influence in form are very apt to re " How do you his teacher, " ^^hy, because " Weil, who tau " My teacher, a '»g to the firs^ lei " Wei], r . , ho imperturbable Jo) Tlie teacher wa,' 0' her difficulties. " Vou watch thf tlity do not, you i 'Tlio great letter f'li'ght himself thr fi-easured Up an< . which grew strong " fact. It W8 k'as no •'o'v-nv THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. 69 cuse for it ; and, if all other arguments fail, must constantly say to them- selves, " I shall one day be old ; let me treat my aged relatives as I hope that my children may treat me." Home should indeed be a " blessed provision " for the : ged. Whether they are those healthy, agreeable old people who have laughed at time, those whose unique privilege it has been to stand erect under the burden of eighty years, or those whom time and circumstance have crippled and cast down, home is their place, and it should not be in our hearts to con- sider them as a burden. XII. THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. " The methods of education should be such as to guide and balance the tendencies of human nature, rather than to subvert them." Mothers must all agree that the best part of education is that which children give themselves in a happy, healthy, not too formal home. The education of a child is principally derived from its own observation of the actions, the words, the looks, of those among whom it lives. The observa- tion of children is keen and incessant. They are always drawing their own conclusions. These observations and conclusions have a powerful influence in forming the character of youth. What you tell them they are very apt to receive with suspicion. Seeing is believing. " How do you know that thai is A :' " said a rather irreverent pupil to liis teacher. " Why, because I was taught so ! " " Weil, who taught you ? " returned Johnny, " My teacher, a very good old man," said the poor schoolmistress, point- ing to the firs'" letter of the alphabet. " Well, r > , how do you know but that old man lied ? " returned the imperturbable John. The teacher was nonplussed. At last sho thought of a happy way out 01 her difficulties. " You watch the other boys, Johnny, and see if they think it is A ; if thty do not, you may believe that it is B." The great letter proved to be A to John's satisfaction, after he had taught himself t\\a.t it was likely to be it. A matter of self- acquisition, treasured np and I'easoned upon, with collateral testimony brought to bear, which grew stronger as Johnny advanced in literature, made A to Johnny i' fact. It was no fiction of learninir which his natural enemies were fore- 1^.A^.■ 70 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCL0P.T;DIA. ing upon him; but, liis native shrewdness having found them out to be correct on this one important fact, he behoved them in future, and accept- ed B and C as parts of a system, occult and difficult to remember, but still as facts. We must remember, when in the first youthful ardour of our systems and schemes of education, that costly apparatus and splendid cabinets have no power to make scholars. The little scholar says to his teacher, " Will you tell me what time it is ? " as he looks at the clock. " No," she should say ; " I want you to tell me what time it is." In a half hour the most slow and unimpressionable boy can learn to tell time, and .',o on. His books and teachers must be his helpers, but the work must be :iis. As Daniel Webster said : " A man is not educated until he has the ability to summon in an emergency his mental powers in vigorous exercise to effect its proposed object. It is not the man who has read the most or seen the most who can do this; such a one is in danger of being borne down like a beast of burden by an overloaded mass of other men's thoughts. Nor is it the man who can boast merely of native vigour and capacity. The greatest of all warriors who went to the siege of Troy had not the preeminence because Nature had given him strength, and he car- ried the longest bow, but because self-discipline had taught him how to bend it." It is this power of raising a boy's mind to the ability to work for itself which is the highest achievement of education, and mothers are sometimes inspired with it. And, as curiosity is the first feeler which the youthful brain puts out, the mother should be very patient in answering questions. This is, per- haps, the hardest trial which a mother has to meet. To answer the ques- tions of a tireless crowd of children is enoufrh to drive a nervous woman insane. But, as long as her strength lasts, she must try to do it, and as long as she knows what to say. W^hen they begin with those unanswer- able questions uj^on theology which they always ask, and which she can no more answer than they can, then she must stop. " Mamma ! wdiy did God make the devil if he didn't want any evil in the world?" " I do not know, my dear ; you must ask your father," has been said to be the most pow^erful lecture upon woman's cunning and man's iimitation.s which was ever preached. Curiosity being once excited, the field is ploughed, and the seeds of learning can be dropped in. Unhappily for the poor boy, he has got to learn many things by rote— the multiplication table, the spelling-book, the Latin gram; formula, in orj hei-eafter. But ju.st as lii the child does n nieinory. Orifi We must rem must be some af ;,'ood fruit. Eve oi-ate natural tei while we are o-n shoots, to proser' wiiich we did no tunate if, in our prove it. We should teai inclinations with are leading to. ) any art or science ally with the hal repressed or frigh In teaching an once. No wise ni •^Iie respects his s In this, we are the capabilities of tendencies of the who look back u Even Dr. Arnold, i;reat school is vc peace ; and when tified by anything that is dizzying, a; gambols of a set ol The trouble wit! '"!'king institution so that the master distorted spines, w confusion, what de w dreadful to thini iii^ THE CAPABILITIES OF HOME EDUCATION. 71 the Latin grammar ; he must be taught tliat dreiiry grind which we call formula, in order that he may have a mental tape-measure to go by iiereafter. But just as little should be taught by rote as possible, especially what the child does not understand. It cripples tu>; mind, while it helps the lueniory. Original thinkers have never been able to learn much by rote. We must remember that education is like the grafting process, and there must be some affinity be ween the stock and the graft if we wish to get ;4i)od fruit. Even if it were desirable, it is very poor work to try to oblit- ei-ate natural tendencies, and make the tree grow artificially. We want, while we are grafting our young tree, and cutting oft' the unnecesaary shoots, tu preserve the fin^s original flavour of the fruit which God gave it, which we did not make, and can only help it to inature and ripen ; for- tunate if, in our blundering ignorance, we do not injure rather than im- prove it. We should teach our children to communicate to us their thoughts and inclinations with perfect freedom, so that we can guess what their minds are leading to. We can thus help them on their favourite road toward any art or science to which their talents tend. We have to contend mor- ally with the habitual reticence of childhood ; but intellectually, if not repressed or frightened, childhood is frank. In teaching anything, as little as possible should be taught a child at once. No wise mother gives her child a half-dozen dishes to eat at once. She respects his stoxnach. Why not have the same regard for his brain ? In this, we are making the mother the teacher. We are speaking of the capabilities of home, which is to be opposed to the very injudicious tendencies of the average school, an institution in which most mothers who look back upon an extended experience usually unite in decrying. Even Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, who was the model school-master, says, " A great school is very trying. It never can present images of rest and peace ; and when the spring and activity of youth are altogether unsanc- titied by anything pure and elevated in its desires, it becomes a spectacle that is dizzying, and almost more morally distressing than the shouts and gambols of a set of lunatics." The trouble with many of our schools is simply this : they are money- niiiking institutions only. Hard teachers, bad air, and the forcing system, so that the master may have a showy examination, that is all. Oh ! what distorted spines, what fevers, what curious diseases, what wrath, what confusion, what despair, have not been born in a i'ashionable school ! It is dreadful to think of the tasks which are imposed. And yet it is not I 72 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. witliin the capabilities of home to do without a school-training, especially for boys. They 'must go to encounter tlie hard lessons which are to prepare them for life. To learn their kind, to get rid of morbidity, school is necessary. It is fortunately within the capabilities of home to smooth the path of the suffering boy or girl who has to know everything. " The school-boy knows the exact distance to an inch from the moon to Uranus," says Dickens, who had the liveliest horror of a school, and the most active sympathy wuth school boys. " The school-boy knows ever}- conceivable quotation from the Greek and Latin authors. The school- boy is up at present, and has been these two years, in the remotest corners of the maps of Russia and Turkey, previously to which display of his geographical accomplishments he had been on the most intimate terii\s with the whole of the gold regions of Australia. If there were a run against the monetary system of this great countiy to-morrow, we should find this prodigy of a school-boy down upon us with the deepest mystery of banking and the currency.' It is this cramming system, this illy digested and cruel qiumtity, which is killing our boys, disgusting them with the word lef much that is afterwards agreeable in her life in not sending her to school. She ought to know other girls and to measure herself with them. Youth- ful friendships are the strongest ; anu we would not like to relinquish that bond. How much more of evil she will learn than of uood in a mixed boardi after careful i ing-school ; an can certainly ( The public knowledge tha tainly produce There are few ilo not succeed, a pretty room, { a room in a boa carpets, charges a little cretonne, ing plant, and ai and refined. What a pity should be an exi attractive ! It 1 many a wrong, a that of the fami are so fresh and iiion is so lively or the aged as a most picturesque thrift. It is the is a story-teller t veIiou,«, What fn the chimney ! Wl lead "A" and "I "1 fire, as is their intrust their fortu ?o up in the smcL Nothing is ,so h< ^'ly that it will cu take its place but MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 7;j mixed boarding-school remains an unanswered question. Most people after careful inquiry are brave enough to send their daughters to a board - inf,'-school ; and there are some schools which are so admirable that they can certainly do our daughters more good than harm. The public school is no doubt a better place for the acquirement of knowledge than the private school. It is a procrustean bed, but it cer- tainly produces good scholars. XIII. MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. There are few women who do not try for this, and few women who, trying, do not succeed. The poorest woman can now with very little money make a pretty room, and save it from the lonely, sordid, or conventional look of a loom in a boarding-house. She can avoid horsehair sofas and violent carpets, eharges frescoes, and vulgar prints on the walls. Good engravings, V a little cretonne, some knick-knacks made by herself, a few grasses, a grow- ing plant, and an open fire are all that are needed to make a room pleasant and refined. What a pity it is that in a country covered with wood, i\ wood fire should be an expensive luxury, for there is nothing like it to make home attractive ! It burns up many a quarrel and mori;id sjieculation, rights many a wrong, and promotes peace. No picture is so utterly cheerful as that of the family gathering round it as evening falls. No conversations are so fresh and witty as those which go up with the sparks. No compa- nion is so lively and invigorating to the invalid, the recluse, the mourner, or the aged as a wood fire. It is the most healthful of all ventilators, th'i most picturesque picture, the most enlivening suggestion of energy and thrift. It is the most fragrant bouquet, the most eloquent of orators. It is a story-teller to the fanciful, and a juggler to th >se who love the mar- \eIlous. What fairy tales does it not tell with its sparks on the back of the chinmey ! What combinations of initials it presents to the lovers, who read " A" and " E " mysteriously combined in a true-lovers' knot, written in fire, as is their love ! What strange shapes the logs take to those who intrust their fortune-telling to its mystic revelation ! What dreamy fancies go up in the smoke. Nothing is so healthful as a wood fire in a sick-room. Certain physicians siy that it will cure some diseases. In cities, however, we have nothing ti> take its place but cannel coal, which make a bright and lively fire, and -j»:mMi&Uiii^>ii^ 74 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. M-liich is the next best thing to the wood fire, and which should be used in every living-room. What a fine old-fashioned distinction that is, by the way, the livivg- room ! As if tlie rooms kept for company were dead rooms, rooms full of ghostly furniture, kept for show, and of cold and fearful aspect. In a true home every room should be a living-room. We should live all over our houses, have nothing too fine to use. Of course the nursery should hold the young destroyers, until they know what not to break, if that know- ledge ever cf.mes. But, to a trooping set of happy boys and girls, the house should be open and free. Each person will find his sanctum, of course, and every one should, if possible, have a room to himself. There should be some place for those who must work to retire to, where solitude would be possible. But the dining-room, the library, and the ](arlour should be cheerfid and orderly, and always lighted up by some constant and familiar presence. Some- body should be there to welcome the wanderers, to greet the stranger, ami to gather the children together as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings. This person is generally the mother, who is th.e core of home. It is this hour of reunion, this happy hour by the wood fii-e, which pays her for all her work, all her trials. If she can see her group passing into hrush their hair, for the girls rem; should be expose severe business o To make homo person in it, one the blower down angrily shut a vvi to put out lights to read, and so on and petty tyranny and those who gn just to their motli make her uncomf( members of societ' " That remombe nature," said a ma \vluch his mother in? of a salad up to and should do it fo and she who does I ^0 with an unv combine to cover u] ^fc is touching to se^ ^eeks to become a ti v-'ho cluster beneatJ 'WWI *VGni MAKING HOME ATTRACT I VK. 75 personal attention and gallantry, the accompanying of them to parties and to theatres, and the instinct which makes them their sisters' most chival- rous defenders, all go far toward making them gentlemen. It is the sister's fault if she is not a refining and a corrective influence in her brother's life. In this day of mannish young girls it is to be feared that she is not alto- o'cther as universally so as she should be ; but a sister should sti'ive for tiiat position. She should strive for her brother's affection and confidence and should endeavour to enlighten them upon the character of girls whom they may marry. She knows them, and men can not know the characters of women as another woman can. The refining influence of j'oung girls upon young Ijoys has led many thoughtful persons to advise the establishment of mixed schools, where the sexes may meet, as in the home circle, for mutual improvement. It certainly improves the boys. They are more anxious to be clean, to hrush their hair, to have better manners at table. Whether it is no good for the girls remain to be proved. It is doubtful if the young people sliouhl be exposed to the early temptation of falling in love while the severe business of study is being required of them. To make home happy when there is even one nagging, hateful, unjust person in it, one who is full of small unainiabilities, one who will take the blower down from the fire when another has put it up, who will angrily shut a window when another has thrown it open, who will study to put out lights which have just been carefully 1 'ited to enable a person to read, and so on — the list is a long one — is a difficult matter. liijustice and petty tyranny go a long way toward ruiningtho character of children, and those who grow up in a house where the father has always been un- just to their mother, those who see him doing these little things daily to make her uncomfortable, have little chance of becoming cheerful and good members of society. " That remembered bitterness has coloured my whole view of human nature," said a man of fift}' years of age, as he spoke of the treatment which his mother had received at the hands of his father, from the dress- inir of a salad up to the education of the children. But women can bear it, ami should do it for the children's sake. The idea of home is worth it all and she who does bear it is one of God's saints and martj^rs. So with an unworthy mother. The father and the children .should combine to cover up this n)ost radical and thorough disintegration of home. It is touchiuir to see some vounjr mrl rising like a delicate flower, which seeks to become a tree, that it may give shelter and food and rest to those who cluster beneath its shade. A woman in making a good home shelters 76 'IHE HOMK, FAX M AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. not only her own, but the houseless children of less worthy women. How many friendless boys there are in the world who come gratefully to auch shelter ! How many a sick and weary pilgrim, deserted by those whom he has trusted, floats into this safe harbour ! Every member of a happy household goes out into the world to find these waifs, whom he bi'ings home to the family table and the family protection. It is one of tfie best privileges of home to the benevolent, this power of doing all the good which thus accidentally comes in one's way. Many a young man living foi'lornly in lodgings has been saved from fatal illness and despair by the kind interposition of some family who have found him out and have taken him home, who have nursed him in illness, encouraging him to hope and to recover. Many a house becomes a " home for the friendless" in this way. Certaiidy a noble hospitality. It is not the richest house which is the most hospitable ; so no one need be discouraged in the attempt to be hospitable by want of mone}'. It is charming to one's self-love to have a well-furnished hou.se, a French cook, and a beautiful dinner service, a butler and fine wines, and to ask one's friends to come to excellent dinners, to see how well we live. But those of lesser means have the ])ower to give, and to exercise the true spirit of the most sincere hosj)itality without these adjuncts. Home, being a strong background, should not be caielessly used to give a factitious respectability to those who are unworthy. Women of large hearts sometimes do this wrong to the w-^rld. In their earnest desire to help the unfin-tunate, they take in a person of uncertain character, and launch upon the world an adventuress or a rascal. " He or she has Mrs. So and So's indorsement ; lie has lived in her family." This has started many a specious vagabond in society. This looseness of goodness has done much harm. Of course, we can not help being sometimes deceived ourselves, but we can help being culpably careless. Much of this kind of patronage undoubtedly springs from a love of approbation, which is a poor motive. People like to patronize and to be looked up to ; they like to hear themselves spoken of as being genCi'ous, noble, and hospitable. The flattery of those whom we have rescued from a doubtful position is sweet, in vast contrast with the utter want of gratitude which often com.es to us from those who OAve us everything. We do not always receive the praises due to us for the work we have really done, and the heart of woman craves praise. Glad is she to get it, even from the unworthy. But here the hospitable heart should stop and ask herself these ques-, tions : " Is my motive in taking in this woman purely generous and sincorelj'' kii my family ? family, whic We have c owes to hers to be talked The charai in, leave all ] l.)ones. Som and an omni They batten which float a " mduvaise la hated. " She l)utations in It is difficu them from th( 'ind funny sid what they sa^y ridiculed. Th ^clect as their ir 1! MAKING HOME ATrRA-CTIVE. 77 sincorel}'' kind ? Do I know her well enough to make her a member of my family ? Have I a right to give her the prestige of my name and family, which she will receive if known as my 'proterje'e ? " We have dwelt but little on the duty which every head of a family owes to herself, her family, and the outside world, in allowing no scandal to be talked at her table or by her fireside. The character of some houses in this respect is fearful. " Ye who enter ill, leave all hope behind "; for your flesh will be pecked from your very bones. Some families have a keen wit, impinging tempers, sharp speech, and an omnivorous appetite for unhandsome traditions of their neighbours. They batten on liuman charactci-, and to dilate upon the many stories which float around concerning everybody is their best amusement. A " nuiiivaise langue" is a fearful gift. It makes a woman powerful but hated. " She is a great gossip, she is a talker," is the worst of all re- putations in a neighbourhood. It is difficult for the mother of bright and witty young poople to keep them from the over-exercise of their tongues. They catch the grotesque and funny side of things intuitively. They are not too particular as to what they say of their f..iui)anions ; and there is nobody who can not be ridiculed. Therefore they grow into scandal-mongers innocently at first, and regard the amusement of making people laugh at their friends as an element of beinij acrreeable. This grows into bitterness, and the attri- buting of ignoble motives as they grow older, on the part of those whc find life disappointing, and whose experience does not tend to soften them. Therefore a rule, formed early in life, to not speak ill of anybody, no matter what the provocation, would be most useful and beneficent. Children and young people should be warned against the dangers of mimicry. It is an amusing but a dangerous gift ; and he who cultivates it will sooner or later get into difficulty. " Whatever tends to form manners or to finish men has great value. Every one who has tasted the delights of friendship will respect every social guard which our manners can establish tending to secure us from the intrusion of frivolous and distasteful people. The jealousy of every class to guard itself is a testimony to the reality they have found in life. When a man once knows that he has done justice to himself, let him dis- miss all terrors of aristocracy as auperstitious, so far as he is concerned." Every mother should put a " social guard " around her home. She can not be too particular as to the acquaintances whom her daughters may select as their intimate friends ; and she should cultivate politeness. /■ 78 TIIK HOMK, KAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.^lDIA. "Politeness is the ritual of society, as prayers arc of the Church, a school of manners, and a gentle blessing to the age in which it grew. Indeed, some "-ood people classify politeness as one of the seven uardinal virtues. It certainly keeps us from doing many ungracious acts. 1'he good man- ners of those who have no training must be in native goodness of heart, which is the secret of all true politeness ; but very few people can always trust to that instinct. If they are trained to an habitual politeness, the result is most favourable. It inculcates self-restraint, and, although theie may be the vices of a Chesterfield under the polish, the polite person saves the feelings of his intimates, and keeps them from losing their temper at the brutality of bad manners. It was sensibly urged by an ouvrier in the French Revolution, that he preferred " the tyi-anny of the aristocrat to the tyranny of the mob ; for," said he, " I like better the tramp of a velvet slipper on my foot than tlie kick of a wooden shoe," No creature is all saint and no creature all sinner. A mother, a teacher, a preacher, must remember this, and do the best that can be done to make out of the people around one amiable members of society. We live in a time of groat thoughts, in which much is said and done for the instruction and elevation of mankind. It is the philanthropic age ; the whole sentiment of reforming the masses belongs to our day. When we reflect upon how much has been done by men and women like our- selves, we can not despair, but still ho})e that we may do something to- wards it ourselves. But still it may not be within our power to do more than to make one happy and useful home. Let us remember, if we do that, we have helped to swell the class of the icell-hred, whom one day we hoj)e may predomi- nate over the ill-bred. " Good manners are the shadows of virtues, if not the virtues them- selves.'" " Company manners," so called, are therefore better than no man- ners at all. They are not as good as home manners, real manners ; but they may work inwardly. We sometimes gain the real virtue which Me have only affected. Idleness has no place in the model home. Be indefatigable in labour, and teach your children to work. The earnest worker finds opportunity and help everywhere. It is not accident that make the fortune. It is assiduous purpose and work ; and we all know how dithculty and poverty have ins^^ired and made great men. To the idle and luxurious, opportu- nity offers nothing. The book is necessary to the eye ; there must be something to take hold of. There is something in industry which is mar- vellous. It accomplishes the hnpossible. It may not always make agree- able people at and no indusi unliappy and The only cL are the womer Avho are rich i for the njainte for us a refine observe that si is the busiest a •loing somethii tlie poor gifted kind hand ovei Croat wealtl women do not ( very woman or : Women shou l-'easuros, and r seen my sisters f > able people at first ; but it usually ends that way. The man of little worth and no industry, he who depends upon others, is apt to bo despondent, tuihappy and ((ucrulous. The only class possessing abundant leisure, who have a right to be idle, are the women who are supported by indulgent fathers and husbands, or who are rich in their own right ; and it is to this class that wo must look for the maintenance of the elegancies of life. They do much to preserve for us a refined tone of society, if they do nothing else. But we must oljscrve that such women are seldom idle. The richest woman in Now York is the busiest woman. She is never happy unless she is at work. She is doing something for every charity' — hel[)ing along young artists, raisin^*' the poor gifted daughter of poverty to a higher opportunity, lending her kind hand everywhere. Great wealth also brings great responsil)ilities, and wealtliy single women do not often take advantage of their wealth to be idle. It is the very woman or man who ought to work, who is r f -t to be incorrigibly lazy. Women should be educated to feel that the single life has its duties, pleasures, and rich and ami)le fultilmont as well as the married. " 1 have seen my sisters so unha[)py in their wedded lives that I shall never marry," said one most attractive woman. " I believe nothing is so useful or so happy in the present crowded state of the world as a single life," said another. Women in the single life have an enviable opportunity to live out their own individuality, and they find their place in anybody's home if they are jf(jod and agreeable. But, so long as they are fussy, sentimental, troubled about old love affairs, seeking, after the day for such things has passed, to he considered attractive, affected, and coquettish, then the old maid deserves the reproach which the vulgar have cast upon her, " It requires a veiy superior woman to be an old maid," said the most delightful old maid who ever lived. Miss Catharine Sedgwick. And now for one long, last, lingering look over all the field which we have swept with our comprehensive broom. Home, whenever and whatever it may be, is sacred. It is a place which none of us, the worst of us, wish degraded. Unhappy it may be, sordid it may be, poor it may be, but we do not wish others to speak ill of it. Very few of us wish it broken up, although it m?sy be our sad business to leave it. It is an inclosure for which we are willing to make vast sacrifices. It is the one education which has influenced us pov'erfully for good or evil. J IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) % <^ /a m >> 'SW ^' J>i M ^ > '%^ 9i \7 Fi> &< CP, 80 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.I^DIA. "What our fathers taught us, what our mothers sang to us, we shall never forget. The impression we have made upon our children will never pass away. The home we have made — consciously or unconsciously — is the factor in their lives of the greatest importance. "NVe may have sown the seeds of a positive moral goodness, to see the flowers come up, but choked by weeds ; we may have studied household education, and have learned the supposed seed-time and harvest of all the virtues, and have sown broadcast the grain of integrity, self-denial, energy, and industry, yet we have reared only idlers, drunkards, and selfish volup- tuaries as the result of our home-training. The seed-time was ours ; the harvest is the Lord's. We are not told why we sometimes fail in our best efforts, but we know that we do fail. We C!^n, therefore, promise no parent success. There are some soils in which plants of virtue will not grow. Nor is character dependent either upon instruction or training. The good son and the bad son grow up by the same fireside. It is the use which each will make of his opportunities which will determine the question. And even the best people must go through deep trials before character is perfected. To live unselfishly to good aims, to rise above our daily and hourly temptations, to do our duty whether rewarded or not— these are our stepping-stones. But, whether dectined to be suocr sful or unsuccessful, all people should try to make a home whose inliuence shall be good. Whether humble or important, our duty remains the same — to make a good home according to our lights. We live in an age which has thrown away tradition, yet it will not hurt us to read of the past, with its trainings and teachings, its formal piecepts its stiff manners, its respect for elders, its oJd-school customs. Let us aim to take for our model all that was good in that sort of home. Then let us read of the homes which have formed the great and good ami useful people of our Pantheon. We may see, as in the case of Mary Russell Mitford, how a wretched and worthless father developed the most generous and useful of daughters. We may learn in almost all biographies some great lesson of virtue born of trouble. We shall have to accept many a story of worthless children who have not been made good by anything; many worthless parents who have made their children unhappy ; but we sh-'ll occasionally be refreshed b}' a well-spring of such delightful fresh- ness that we slufll have strength given us wherewith to struggle on. And character, when fine, is such a very remunerative thing to the mind which needs help ! We almost welcome any suffering if it would make mm ■ '■' -""'U^ /-'^-^ .t^^ -^#1 i!Jl;!!i!l'i!Hll!: (1 :|i|i:lnilli 1^ m ,%*.m^' w niinpiimnnmmniniiiimniu(trai;i~ H, R. H. PRINCESS LOUISE. us GO strong, n(| back through have known hf ing country doc Su- Philip Sidn< ler his mirth, h| fulness, and uns at early mornini patient, and we corded life, sayii So of many a met calamity anJ love and to proi and for her child capable of seeing equable her temp pretty and agrees lessons and her af she 'fathered her '. keeping the wolf And we remem just suspicion to s whom came domes We think of the brocade, and nevei swallowed her tro' son. No one will members of her fa dour. It is only 1 This is character. So long as men [State, so long will land to God. We have not be jThe hours of risii I company, and of £ |must be left to the Almost all peopl Ipunctuality and ec ommonplace to e\ F MAKING HOME ATTRACTIVE. 81 US so strong, noble, true as some people have been. We sometimes look back through our tears, and see what a large place a certain character we have known has filled in the lives of all who knew him. A hard-work- ing country doctor may have been, as we look up his record after death, a Sir Philip Sidney, an Admirable Crichton, a Carlo Borromeo, We remem- ler his mirth, his cheerfulness, his courtesy, his wit, his industiy, faith- fulness, and unselfishness. We remember how he came into the sick-room at early morning, bringing flowers with the dew on them for his suflTering patient, and we follow him through the years of his beneficent but unre- corded life, saying, " This was character." So of many a woman unknown to fame, we remember how bravely she met calamity and shame, brought to her by the man who had sworn to love and to protect. We remember how cheerfully she worked for him ami for her children, never losing her faith in human nature, how she was capable of seeing others succeed without envy, how pure her heart, how equable her temper. We remember how she made home happy, and how pretty and agreeable she was, although her mornings were given to music lessons and her afternoons to drudgery. Mo one wculd have suspected, as she 'gathered her lambs about her evening wood fire, that she had been keeping the wolf from the door. This was character. And we remember the man who all through his life lived under an un- just suspicion to shield a brother or a son. We think of the old man to I whom came domestic trials of the hardest, yet who never lost his faith. We think of the brilliant woman of society, who stuffs her wounds with brocade, and never lets the world see that she bleeds inwardly. She has swallowed her troubles. She can work for that worthies;-, that drunken SOD. No one will know that she does it. It is necessary for the other members of her family that she keep up that home in its supposed splen- dour. It is only anotlier sleepless year to her ! What does it matter ? i This is character. So long as men and women remember that home is the anchor of the i State, so long will they be doing their duty to themselves, to their country, land to God. We have not been able to lay down any definite and unalterable rules. I The hours of rising, of retiring, of taking meals, of dressing, receiving Icompany, and of allowing either gaiety or sobriety to rule the house, this Imust be left to the sense, taste, and discretion of every householder. Almost all people of sense agree as to the advantages of early rising and [punctuality and economy and general good manners. It may seem very |coinmonplace to even allude to them. F It is to that higher instinct which 82 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. lies behind good reputation to which we would appeal. It is to the sacred sense of the reality of home. It is to the feeling that Wordsworth ex- presses in his well-known lines respecting those " who never roam. True to the sacred [joints of heaven and home." Still less have we been able to tell parents, except very generally, what books their children should read. We are very great believers in fairy tales, and think that the nursery circle should be entertained by the mother in reading aloud those delightfully fantastic productions of Grimm and others who have explored the world under the fern-leaves. There is no dano-er that these stories will make liars of children, as some conscien- tious people have feared. A child perceives at once the difference between fact and fancy. And the fairy stories are as true as " Sandford and Merton " or the "Rollo Books." Let children read both. Let the delicate instruction which fil- ters through " Jack and the Bean-Stalk," " Cinderella," and through the immortal pages of the " Arabian Nights," reach a youthful mind early. These books give an elegance and a fulness to the intellect of a child which no practical book can reach. A child is nearer heaven than we are ; he still sees the unseen. " And trailing clouds of glory, does he come From God, who is his home. We should remember that his clear and unpolluted mind still revels in dimly remembered wonders, of which we have lost sight, and the univer- sal craving of a child's mind for the wonderful is not to be despised. As for the growing man and woman, we can only say : give them good books at first, and they will never wish for any other. Form a taste, and then turn them into a well-selected library. If a little girl comes to her mother and asks, " What shall I read V she should always be helped to a good book. But, after her tastes are pronounced, she will read what she likes or will not read at all. And we would earnestly urge upon American mothers to go into society I with their daughters, to make the greatest effort to be with them, to know well their intimates, to keep young for their daughters' sake. It is very often that, with small means and with young children, a mother finds her- self unable to do this thing. Indeed, it is sometimes the case that aj mother economizes on her own dress in order that her daughter may b«j better dressed, and stays at home herself to send her daughter. This is aj great mistake. The mother's presence as chaperon to her daughter would] have saved where good n prominent feti must make a followed. Wc watched over If parents v they should te, be graceful, ao: vantages at ho good-breeding the immense f manners. And if We coi to a formula for other as if all w down a single ] studiously respe( other member. other. Weshou 01 ^^N a work of fiefcic ^ound, if consider character," ^'" the humbler "^ho gives me his ^orth, pledges to , certain qualities of l^^^^^e- If.inthes ;»«ney as long as . Her, his characte le J ON THE M.VNAGEMENT OF MONEY. 83 have saved us much national scandal. In families of good ancestry, where good manners have been transmitted, we find always the mother a prominent feature in society. In families of no antecedents, those who must make a family, certainly this rule should be even nore vigorously followed. We would have no reproach of " fast girls " if dignified mothers watched over thei" daughters' amusements. If parents wish their children to be loving, appreciative, and grateful, they should teach them to reverence and to obey. If they wish them to be graceful, accomplished, refined, they must surround them with these ad- vantages at hc»me. They must teach them not only those principles of good-breeding which spring from the heart, but they must tell them of the immense force which lies in social good-breeding and in pleasant manners. And if we could compress into one golden sentence the nearest approach to a formula for home happiness, it would be this : Be as polite to one an- other a3 if all were strangers. Do not let the intimacy of home b^ eak down a single barrier of self-control. Let every member of the family studiously respect the rights — moral, intellectual, and physical — of every other member. Let each one refrain from attacking the convictions of the other. We should not so treat a stranger. Why our own ? " Ptill in thy right haud carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues." XIV". ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. a BY LOED LYTTON. (Addressed chiejiy to the Young) In a work of fiction I once wrote this sentence, which, perhaps, may be found, if considered, suggestive of some practical truths — " Money is character," In the humbler grades of life, certainly character is money. The man who gives me his labour in return for the wages which the labour is worth, pledges to me something more than his labour — he pledges to me certain qualities of his moral being, such as honesty, sobriety, and dili- I gence. If, in these respects, he maintain his character, he will have my I money as long as I want his labour ; and when I want his labour no longer, his character is money's worth to him for somebody else. If, in 84 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. addition to the moral qualities I have named, he establish a character foi- other attributes which have their own price in the money market — if he exhibits a superior intelligence, skill, energy, zeal — his labour rises in value. Thus, in the humblest class of life, character is money; and accord- ing as the man earns or spends the money, money in turn becomes char- acter. As money is the most evident power in the world's uses, so the use that he makes of money is often all that the world knov/s about a man. Is our money gained justly and spent prudently ? our character establishes a claim on respect. Is it gained nobly and spent beneficently ? our char- acter commands more than respect — it wins a place in that higher sphere of opinion which comprises admiration, gratitude, love. Is money inherited without merit of ours, lavished recklessly away ? our character disperses itself with the spray of the golden shower — it is not the money alone of which we are spendthrifts. Is money meanly acquired, selfishly hoarded ? it is not the money alone of which we are misers ; we are starving our own human hearts, depriving them of their natural ailment in the approv- al and affection of others. We invest the money which we fancy so safe out at compound interest in the very worst possession a man can purchase — viz.. an odious reputation. In fact, the more we look round the more we shall come to acknowledge that there is no test of a man's character more generally adopted than the way in which his money is managed. Money is a terrible blab ; she will betray the secrets of her owner what- ever he do to gag her. His virtues will creep out in her whisper, his vices she will cry aloud at the top of her tongue. But the management of money is an art ? True ; but that which we call an art means an improvement, and not a deterioration, of a something existent already in nature ; and the artist can onl}' succeed in improving his art in proportion as he improves himself in the qualities which the art demands in i\w artist. Now the management of m.oney is, in much, the managemt nt of self If Heaven allotted to each man seven guardian an- gels, five of them at least would be found night and day hovering over his pockets. On the first rule of the art of managing money all preceptors must he agreed. It is told in three words, " Horror of Debt." Nurse, cherish, never cavil away, the wholesc -j horror of Debt. Per- sonal liberty is the paramount essential to human dignity, and human happiness. Man hazards the condition and loses the virtues of freeman in proportion as he accustoms his thoughts to view, without anguish and shame, hi.s lapse iuto the bondage of debtor. Debt is to man what the mi^^mr^i^f ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 85 serpent is to the bird ; its eye fascinates, its breath poisons, its coil crushes sinew and bone, its jaw is the pitiless grave. If you mock my illustration, if you sneer at the truth it embodies, give yourself no farther trouble to learn how to manage your money. Consider yourself doomed ; pass on your way with a jaunty step; the path is facile — paths to Aver- iius always are. But if, while I write, your heart, true to the instinct of inauliood, responds to my words — if you say, " Agreed ; that which you oiill the first rule for the management of money, I hold yet more impera- tive as the necessity to freedom and the life-spring of probity" — then advance on your way, assured that wherever it wind it must ascend. You see but the temple of Honour ; close behind it is the temple of Fortune. You will pass through the one to the other, " But," sighs the irresolute youth, whom the eye of the serpent has al- ready charmed, " it is by no means so easy to keep out of debt as it is to write warnings against getting into it." Easy to keep out of debt ? Certainly not. Nothing in life worth an etlbrt is easy. Do you expect to know the first six b of Euclid by inspiration ? Could you get over that problem in the firs' '^ook, popularly called the Ass's Bridge, without a sigh of fatigue ? Can j^u look back to the rudimentary agonies of the Multiplication Table and the Rule of Three, or As in 2^7Ycscn^i, or even Propria quce maribus, without a lively recollection of the moment when you fnirly gave in, and said, "This is too much for human powers ?" Even in things the pleasantest, if we wish to succeed we must toil. We are all Adam's children. Whatever we cul- ture on earth, till we win our way back into Eden, we must earn by the sweat of our brain. Not even the Sybarite was at ease on his rose-bed — even for him some labour was needful. No hand save his own could un- cnnnple the rose-leaf that chafed him. Each object under the sun reflects a difficulty on the earth. " Every hair," says that exquisite Publius Syrus, whose fragments of old verse are worth libraries of modern comedies — "every hair casts its shadow." But think, oh, young man ! of the object I place before you, and then be ashamed of yourself if you still sigh, " Easy to preach, and not ea.sy to practise." I have no interest in the preaching ; your interest is immense in the practice. That object not won, your heart has no peace, and your hearth no security. Your conscience itself leaves a door open night and flay to the tempter ; night and day to the ear of a debtor steal whispers that prompt to the deeds of a felon. Three years ago you admired the rising success of some most respectable man. Where is he now ? In the dock — in the jail — in the hulks ? What ! that opulent banker, whose 86 THE HOMK, FAUM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. plate dazzled princes ? or that flourishing clerk, who drove the high-step- ping horse to his office ? The same. And his crime ? Fraud an(3 swindling. What demon could urge so respectable a man to so shameful an act ? 1 know not the name of the demon, but the cause of the crime the wretch tells you himself. Ask him : what is his answer ? "I got into debt — no way to get out of it but the way which I took — to the dock, to the jail, to the hulks !" Easy to keep out of debt ! No, my young friend, it is difficult. Are you rich ? The bland tradesman cries, " Pay when you please." Your rents or your father's allowance will not be due for three months ; youi* purse in the mean while can not afford you some pleasant vice or some in- nocent luxury, which to young heirs seems a want. You are about to relinquish the vice or dispense with the luxury; a chai'ming acquaintance, who lives no one knows how, though no one lives better, introduces an amiable creature, sleek as a cat, with pavs of velvet hiding claws of steel, his manners are pleasing, his calling —usury. "You wfint the money for three months. Why say three ? Your name to a bill for six months, and the vice or the luxury is yours the next hour ! Certainly the easy thing here is to put your name to the bill. Presto ! you are in debt — the demon has you down in his books. Are you poor ? Still your character is yet without fitain, and your char- acter is a property on which you can borrow a trifle. But when you borrow on your character, it is your character that you leave in pawn. The property to you is priceless, and the loan that subjects it to be a pledge unredeemed is — a trifle. Young friend, be thou patrician or plebeian, learn to say No at the first to thy charming acquaintance. The worst that the " No" can inflict on thee is a privation — a want — always short of starvation. No young man, with the average health of youth, need be in danger of starving. But, despite that privation or want, thy youth itself is such riches that there is not a purse-proud old millionaire of sixty who, provided thy good name be unsoiled, would not delightedly change with thee. Be contented ! Sny No ! Keep unscathed the good name, keep out of peril the honour, with- out which even yon battered old soldier, who is hobbling into his grave ou half-pay and a wooden leg, would not change with Achilles. Here I pause, seemingly to digress, really to enlarge the scope of my reasoning. In the world around and without us there are first principles which dely all philosophy. We may arrive with Newton at the law of gravitation ; there we stop. " We enquire no more," says Sir William ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 87 Hamilton, " although ignorant now as previously of the cause of gravi- tation." But man in himself is a world ; and in man's moral organization there are also first principles, on wliich the more we would dispute the more likely we are to be led astray. All things can be argued upon ; and therefore, if we so choose, we may be argued out of all things the best for us. There are some things for men and nations which it is safest never to submit to an argument. I would not, as an Englishman, permit trial by jury, or the right of habeas corpus, or the honour of the national flag, or the privilege of a.sylum to political exiles to become open questions for the casuists of other lands to refine into ignorant prejudices on the part of my old-fashioned country. So, as a human being, in myself integral and independent — as sovereign in free-will as any state on earth, however numerous its citizens, however imperial its sceptre — there are certain tilings which I will not allow to be open questions ; I assume them a.s indispensable to my own completeness of human being. .1 grant that a i^reat deal may be said against them, as there may be against trial by jury and tiio honour of our flag ; but I have made up my mind to main- tain and not to discuss them, not because I doubt that all hostile argu- ments could be triumphantly answered, but because I may noi be such a proficient in casuistry as to be able to satisfy others ; and in striving to do so I may unsettle in my own mind the foundation of all that I know to be both the temples and bulwarks of my existence as man. I will not consent to make open questions of aught without which I .should think it a lucrcy if I weie hanged as a dog. I have read very subtile arguments iij^'ainst the probabilities that my frame holds a soul — that my present life involves a hereafter. I have read arguments no less subtile against the Avi.sdom and almost against the existence of eveiy conceivable virtue. I could quote pages by writers of no mean ability to show that common honesty is a vulgar error. So that, in fact, if I were to deliver up my whole self to the arbitrament of special pleaders, to-day I might be argued into an atheist, and to-morrow into a pick-pocket. Therefore I say to the young man about entering life as a free agent, Whenever you are tempted to do something which you have been brought up by honest parents and te.ichers to know to be wrong, do not argue about it — ^j'ou can at least hold your tongue. Without an argument you may commit the fault, repent, and atone it, because you have not frittered away the conviction that you have done wrong; but if you once make the wrong an open question; and consent to argue with perhaps a more practiced caBuist than yourself--his argument taking part with your temptation — 1:1 88 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. tlien the chance is that you do more than a wrong thing, that you do wrong upon philosophical system, and will very soon substitute custom for conscience. Never be argued out of your soul, neve,- be argued out of your honour, and never be argued into believing that soul and honour do not run a terrible risk if you limp into life with the load of a debt on your shoulders, and, as the debt grows heavy and heavier, the hiss of some lying fiend in your ear, " Shake it off; you need not be bankrupt ; there is an alternative." " Oh, heavens ! what alternative, say ! " and the fiend whispers low, suasive words — for the fiends argue well — suasive words which, put in plain English, mean this : " Be a cheat ; be a swindler." Shake hands, brave young friend ; we are agreed. You consent to have horror of debt. You will abstain, you will pinch, you will work harder and harder, if needful. You will not slink through the crowd as a debtor. Now comes the next danger. You will not incur debt for yourself, but you have a friend. Pythias, your friend, your familiar — the man you like best and see most of — says to you, " Damon, be my security — your name to this bill!" Heaven forbid that I should cry out to Damon, " Pythias means to cheat thee — beware ! " But I address to Damon this observation : " Pythias asks thee to guarantee that three, six, or twelve months hence he will pay to another man — say to Dionysius — so many pounds sterling." Here your first duty as an honest man is not to Pyth- ias, but to Dionysius. Suppose some accident happen — one of these which, however impossible it may seem to Pythias, constantly happen to the Pythiases of other Damons who draw bills on the bank of Futurity ; suppose that the smut or the rain spoil the crops on which Pythias relies, or the cargoes he expects from Marseilles, Ctilifornia, Utopia, go down to the bottomless seas — Dionysus must come upon you ! Can you pay to Dionysius what you pledge yourself to pay to him in spite of those acci- dents ? He thinks those accidents not only possible, but probable, or he would not requive your surety, nor charge twenty per cent, for his loan; and, therefore, since he clearly doubts Pythias, his real trust is in you. Do not merit the trust ? Can you pay the money if Pythias can not ? and, allowing that you pay the money, are your other obligations in life such as to warrant that sacrifice to Friendship ? If you can not pay, or if you owe it to others more sacred than Pythias himself — owe it to your parents, your plighted bride, or wedded wife, or the children to whom, what, before their birth, was your fortune, has become the trust money for their pro- vision — not to hazard for Pythias that for which, if lost, not you alone but others must suffer, then do not common duty and common honesty ON THK MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 89 forbid you to become surety to Pytbias for an obligation which it belongs not to Pytbias but to Chance to lulfil ? I am the last man to say, " Do not help your friend," if you honourably can. If we have money, we manage it ill when we can not help a friend at a pinch. But the plain fact is this : Pythias wants money. Can you give it, at wbatevei- stint to yourself, injustice to others ? If you can, and you value Pythias more than the money, give the money, and there is an end of it ; but if you can not give the money, don't sign the bill. Do not become what, in rude truth, you do become — a knave and a liar — if you guarantee to do what you know that you can not do should the guarantee be exacted. He is generous who gives ; he who lends may be generous also, but only on one condition, viz., that he can afford to give what he can afford to lend ; of the two, therefore, it is f^jafcr, friendlier, cheaper in the long-run to give than to lend. Give, and you may keep your friend if you lose your mrney ; lend, and the chances are that you lose your friend if ever you get back your money. But if you do lend, let it bo with the full conviction that the loan is a <;ift, and count it among the rarest favours of Providence if you be ever lepaid. Lend to Pythias on the understanding, " This is a loan if you ever can repay me. I shall, however, make this provision against the chances of a quarrel between us, that if you can not repay me it stands as a gift." And whatever you lend, let it be your money, and not your name. Money you may get again, and, if not, you may contrive to do without it ; name once lost you can not get again, and if you can contrive to do with- out it, you had better never have been born. With honour, poverty is a Noble; without honour, wealth is a Pauper. Is it not so ? Every young man not corrupted says " Yes." It is only some wretched old cy nic, no drop of warm blood in his veins, who says, " Life is a boon without honour." But if a Jew knock at your door and show you a bill with your name as a promise to pay, and the bill be dishonoured, pray what becomes of your name ? " My name ! " falters Damon. " I am but a surety ; go to Pythias." " Pythias has bolted ! " Pay the bill, Damon, or good-bye to your honour ! Pardon my prolixity ; earnestness is apt to be garrulous. Vixi ! I bave lived and known life. And, alas, what careers bright in promise I have seen close in jail or in exile ; what talents, profuse in their blossom, die off without coming to fruit ; what virtues the manliest rot into vices I 90 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP^^BI^L the meanest, which, when one cried in amazement, " How account for so doleful an end to so fair a commencement ? " solve their whole mystery in this: "Durnon never recovered his first fatal error; Damon put his name to a bill by which Pythias promised to pay so and so in three months." Having settled these essentia] preliminaries — 1. Never to borrow where there is a chance, however remote, that you may not be able to repay ; 2. N ever to lend what you are not prepared to give ; 3. Never to guarantee for another what you can not fulfil if the other should fail — you start in life with this great advantage : whatt :er you have, be it little or much, is your own. Rich or poor, you start as a freeman, resolved to preserve in your freedom the noblest condition of your being as a man. Now fix your oyes steadily on some definite end in the future. Con- sider well whn. yoi! chiefly wish to be , then compute at the lowest that which you are by talent, and at the highest that which you can be by labour. Always under estimate the resources of talent ; always put as against you the chances of luck. Then set down on the other side, as against talent defective, against luck advei'se, all that which can be placed to the credit of energy, patience, perseverance. These last are infinite ; whatever be placed against them is finite ; you are on the right side of any system of book-keeping by double-entry on which a mortal may pre- sume to calculate accounts with Fate. The finest epithet for genius is that wl.ich was applied to Newton's genius, "patient." He w',. has patience, coujjled with energy, is sure, sooner or later, to obtain I results of genius ; he who has genius without patience and without energy (if, indeed., such genius be a thing possible) might as well have no genius at all. His works and aims, like the plants of Nature before the Deluge, are characterized by the slig^-tness of their roots. Fortunf^ xssaid to be blind, but her favourites never are. Ambition has the eye of the eagle, Prudence that of the lynx , the first looks through the air, the last along the ground. The man who succeeds above his fellows is the one who, early in life, clearly discerns his object, and toward that object habitually directs his powers. Thus, indeed, even genius itself is but fine observation strength- ened by fixity of purpose. Every man who observes vigilantly and re- solves steadfastly grows unconsciously into gerius. Assuming that fortune be your object, let your first efforts be not for wealth, but independence. Whatever be your talents, whatever youi prospects, never be tempted to speculate away, on the chance of a palace. I gain f I have a so; there is son liad disadvf scholastic e ■^tiJl "-et c. " As I em I] leaving enou iis a hatter, %ron ?" Useless- »ow be loon my few ho] genius undei ent, my ansv that assures •intil you an mind. If j to consider n my powers. ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 91 that which yoii need as a provision against the work-liouse. Youth is too apt to exclaim, " Aut Caesar aut nullus." But that saying was only for a Caesar ; and even for him it was not a wise one. To a CiPsar there should have been no Aut. Nemesis sighed " Aut nullus" when Caesar fell at the feet of the marble Pompey. A daring trader hazards the halter if lie says " Rothschild or nothing ; " a philosopher will end as a charlatfin if he says " Aristotle or nothing ; " a fentleman who says " Sir Philip Sidney or nothing" is on the eve of be- coming a blackleg. Tiie safe maxim is this : " The highest I can be, but on no account — nullus." Let your first caro be, then, independence. Without pecuniary inde- pendence you are not even intellectually free ; with independence, even though it be gained through some occupation which you endure as a drud- gery, still, out of the twenty-four hours, there will be always some hours for the occupation in which you delight. This observation applies in fullest force to aspirants in literature. It is my cruel fate to receive no unfrequent communications from youths whose calling is that of the counter, whose tastes are those of Parnassus ; and tlie pitch of these unsolicited communications is invariably this : '• I gain so many shillings a week by a vulgar and detestable trade ; but I have a soul above buttons. Read the MSS. I inclose. Do you not think there is some merit in them ? Could I not succeed jus an author ? I have had disadvantages to encounter — so had Burns. I can not boast of a scholastic education : I have had very little leisure to educate myself ; still " — et cetera, et cetera, all the ct cetera involving the same question : " As I am unfit to be an apprentice, am I not fit to be an author ? Not having enough of human intelligence, perseverance, and energy to excel as a hatter, a tailor, a butcher, a baker, may I not be a Walter Scott or a Byron ? " Useless — I solemnly warn all such contingent correspondents as may now he looming ominously among other unwelcome clouds that menace ray few holiday hours-- useles^s to apply to me. Be the specimens of genius under difficultie'; thus volunteered to my eye good, bad, or indiffer- ent, my answer, as an honest man, can be only this , " Keep to the calling that assures you a something out of which you may extract independence until you are independent. Give to that calling all your heart, all your mind. If I were hatter, or tailor, or butcher, or baker. I should resolve to consider my calling the best in the world, and devote to it the best of my powers. Independence once won, then be Byron or Scott if you can." 92 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Independence ! independence ! the right and the power to follow the bent of year genius without fear of the bailiff and dun should be your first inflexible aim. To attain independence, so apportion your expendi- ture as to spend less than you have or you earn. Make this rule impera- tive. I know of none better. Lay by something every year, if it be but a shilling. A shilling laid by, net and clear from a debt, is a receipt in full for all claims in the past, and you go on with light foot and light heart to the future. " How am I to save and lay by ? " saith the author, or anv other man of wants more large than his means. The answer is obvious : " If you can not increase your means, then you must diminish your wants." Every skilled labourer of fair repute can earn enough not to starve, and a surplus beyond that bare sufficiency. Yet many a skilled labourer suffers more from positive privation than the unskilled rural peasant. Why ? Because he encourages wants in excess of his means. A man of £300 a year, living up to that income, truly complains of pov- erty ; but if he live at the rate of £2.50 a year, he is comparatively rich. " Oh," says Gentility, " but I must have this or that, which necessitates the yearly £50 you ask me to save — I must be genteel." Why that must ? That certain folk may esteem you ? Believe me, they esteem you much more for a balance at your banker's than for that silver teapot or that mannikin menial in sugar-loaf buttons. "But," says Parental Affection, " I must educate my boy ; that £.50 saved from my income is the cost of his education." Is it so ? Can all the school-masters in Europe teach him a nobler lesson than that of a generous thrift, a cheerful and brave self-denial ? If the £50 be really the sum which the boy's schooling needs, and you can spare nothing else from your remaining £250, still save and lay by for a year, and during that year let the boy study at home, by seeing how gladly you all are saving for him. Then the next year the schooling is the present which you all — father, mother, and sister — by many slight acts of self-denial, have contrived to make to your boy. And if he be a boy of good heart, a boy such as parents so thoughtful nearly always rear, he will go to his school determined to make up to you for all the privations he has seen those he loves endure for his sake. You may tell me that practically it comes to the same thing, for the school goes on, and next year you must equally pinch for the £50. True ; but there is this mighty difference, you are a year in advance of the sum ; and, the habit of savi: ^ thus formed, you may discover something else that will bear a retrenchment. Ho who saves for one year finds the security, pleasure, and pride in it a luxury so great that liis invention will be quick- ened to keep it. Lay by ! lay by ! What makes the capital of nations ? Savings t.'nless tl When til What re? secret of you speni the unive citizen. Well, ^> Man age mi means be. Every ma whatever i lings a wei In this r ness. Pov positive de: with t!ie m poor as con pared to im relatively p tively need •nay need n liberty." have my ty (-'xile may ! 'U'lgment ar '"^hylock ma an exaggera £5000 a yea man is need "t^'^OOO a yea may so well l>est blessin^ 111 every stal J'ini less loyi Money is cha *Jon to the ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 93 Savings ; nothing else. Neither nations nor raen are safe against fojtunes ;;n1ess they can hit on a system by which they save more than they spend. When that system is once established, at what a ratio capital accumulates ! Wiiat resources the system gradually develops ! In that one maxim is the secret of England's greatness 1 Do you think it mean to save more than you spend ? You do in that what alone gives your country its rank in the universe. The system so grand for an empire can not be mean for a citizen. Well, we havy now added another rule to the canons prescribed to the Manayho earns but ten shillings a week can do this if he please, whatever he may say to the contrary ; for if he can live upon ten shil- lings a week, he can live upon nine and elevenpence. In this rule mark the emphatic distinction between poverty and needi- ness. Poverty is relative, and therefore not ignoble ; Neediness is a ])ositive degradation. If I have only £100 a year, I am rich as compared with the majority of my countrymen. If I have £5000 a year, I may be poor as compared with the majority of my associates, and very poor com- pared to my next-door neighbour. With either of these incomes I am relatively poor or rich ; but with either of these incomes I may be posi- tively needy, or positively free from neediness. With the £100 a year I may need no man's help ; I may at least have " my crust of bread and liberty." But with £.3000 a year I may dread a ring at ray bell ; I may have my tyrannical masters in servants whose wages I can not i)ay ; my L'xile may be at the tiat of the first long-suffering man who enters a iudgment against me ; for the flesh that lies nearest to my heart some Shylock may be dusting his scales and whetting his knife. Nor is this an exaggeration. Some of the neediest men I ever knew have a nominal £")000 a year. Every man is needy who spends more than he has ; no man is needy who spends less. I may so ill manage my money that, with £")000 a year, I purchase the worst evils of poverty — terror and shame; I may so well manage my money that, with £100 a year, I |)urchase the best blessings of wealth — safety and respect, Man is a kingly animal. Ill every state which does not enslave him, it is not labour which makes him less loyally lord of himself — it is fear. " Rex est qui metuit nihil, Et hoc regnum sibi (juisque det,'* Money is character — money also is power. I have power not in propor- tion to the money I spend on myself, but in proportion to the money 94 THK HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. I can, if I please, give away tu another. We feel this as wo advance in years. How helpless is an (M man who has not a tarthing to give or to leave ! But be moderately amiable, grateful, and kind, and though you have neither wife nor child, you will never want a wife's tenderness nor a child's obedience if you have something to leave or to give. This reads like satire ; it is solder truth. But now we arrive at the power of money well managed. You have „ot money — yon have it ; and, with it, the heart, and the sense, and the taste to extract from the metal its uses. Talk of the power of knowledge ! What can knowledge invent that money can not purchase ? Money, it is true, can not give you the brain of the philosopher, the eye of the painter, the ear of the musician, nor that inner sixth sense of beauty and truth by which the poet unites in himself philosopher, painter, musician; but money can refine and exalt your existence with all that philosopher, painter, musician, poet, accomplish. That which they are your wealth can not make you, l)ut that which they do is at the command of youi' wealth. You may collect in your libraries all thoughts which all thinkers have confided to books ; your galleries may teem with the treasures of art; the air that you breathe may be vocal with music ; better than all, when you summon the Graces, they can come to your call in their sweet name of Charities. You can build up as3'lums for age, and academies for youth. Pining Merit may spring to hope at your voice, and " Poverty (Trow cheerful in your .sight." Money well managed deserves, indeed, the apotheosis to which she was raised by her Latin adorers; she is Divn Moncta — a goddess. I have said that he who sets out in life with the resolve to acquire money should place clearly before him some definite object to which the money is but the means. He thus sweetens privation and dignities thrift. Money never can be well managed if sought solely through the greed of money for its own .sake. In all meanness there is a defect of intellect as well as of heart. And even the cleverness of avarice is but the cunniny of imbecility. The first object connected with money is the security for individual freedom — pecuniary independence. That once gained, whatever is surplus becomes the fair capital for reproductive adventure. Adhere but to this rule in (!very speculation, however tempting, preserve free from all hazard that which you require to live on without depending upon other-s. It is a great motive to economy, a strong safe-guard to conduct, and a wonderful stimulant to all mental power, if you can associate your toil fur money with some end dear to your atfections. I once knew a boy of good ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 95 parts, but who seemed incorrigibly indolent. His father, a professional man, died suddenly, leaving his widow and son utterly destitute. The widow resolved to continue the education of her boy, however little ho had hitherto profited by it — engaged herself as teacher at a school, and devoted her salary to her son. i rom that moment the boy began to work n good earnest. He saw the value of money in this world ; he resolved to requite his mother — to see her once more in a home of her own ; lie distinguished himself at school ; he obtained, at the age of sixteen, an enti'y in a mercantile house. At the age of twenty his salary enabled him to place his mother in a modest suburban lodging, to which he came home every night. At the age of thirty he was a rich man, and, visiting him at his villa, I admired his gardens. He said to me, simply, " I have no taste for flowers myself, but my mother is passionately fond of them. I date my first step in life from my resolve to find her a home ; and tlie invention in my business to which I owe my rise from clerk to partner could never have come into ray brain, and been patiently worked out, if, night and day, I had not thought of my mother's delight i>i tlowers." A common motive with a young man is an honest love for the girl wliom he desires to win as his wife. Nay, if no such girl yet has been met on the earth, surely she lives for him in the cloudland of Fancy. Wedlock, and wedlock for love, is the most exquisite hope in the inner- most heart of every young man who labours ; it is but the proHigate idlers who laugh at that sacred ideal. But it is only the peasant or mechanic who has the right to marry on no other capital than that which ho takes from nature in sinews and thews. The man whose whole condition of being is in his work from day to day must still have his helpmate. He linds his helpmate in one who can work like himself if his honest industry i'ail her. I preach to the day-labourer no cold homilies from political economy. The hap2-)iness and morality of the working class necessitate early marriages; and for paident provision against the chances of illness and death there are benefit clubs and societies, which must stand in lieu of jointure and settlement. But to men of a higher grade in this world's social distinefcion.s, Hyn\en must generally contrive to make some kind of compromise with Plutus. I grant that your fond Amaryllis would take your arm to the altar though you have not a coat to your back ; but Amaryllis may have parents who not unreasonably ask, " How, young 'Strephon, can you maintain our daughter ? and if your death demolish all those castles in the air which you are now building without brick and mortar, under what roof will she lay her head ? " F\ 96 THE HOMK, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. m And suppose that no parents thus unkindly interpose between Amaryl- lis and you, still it is a poor return to the disinterested love of Ama- ryllis to take her, thoughtless child, at hei word. Amaryllis proves her unselfish love ; prove yours, my friend Strephon. Wait — hope — strive ; her ring is on your finger ; her picture, though it be but a villainous ])hotogra})h, hangs by your bedside ; her image is safe in the innermost fold of your heart. Wait till you can joyously say, " Come, Amaryllis, Plutus relaxes his frown ; here is a home which, if humble, at least is se- cure ; and if death suddenly snatch me away, here is no castle in air for my widow, Amaryllis shall never live upon alms !" How your love will deepen and strengthen in that generous delay ; and with vour love, how your whole nature, mental and moral, will deepen and strengthen ! Here, indeed, is an object for climbing the rough paths on to fortune ; and here the first friendly opposition of Plutus only serves to place upon surer foundations the blessings promised by Hymen. Constancy in love necessitates patience and perseverance in all efforts for fortune ; and with patience and perseverance, a man of fair average capji- cities is the master of fortune. But there are lesser objects than tho.se I have defined as the most fre- quently coveted which lend a charm to the m;>king of money. It is a motive to economy, and a dissuasion from many j)rofitless fol- lies, to cherish early in life one favourite hobby, provided the hobby be sound and well-bied. The taste for books, and the desire to collect them, are no mean tests of a school-boy's career as man. One of the most distinguished personages in Europe, showing mo his library — which is remarkable for its extent and its quality (it was formed on the principle of inchiding all works that treat, directly or indirectly, on the human mind, and thus, necessarily includes almost every book worth reading) — said to me, " Not only this collection, but my social suc- cesses in life, I trace back to the first franc 1 saved from the cake shop to spend on the book-stall. When I was a young man, and received an in- vitation to a ball, not being then rich, I calculated what it would cost me in kid gloves and coach hire, and, refusing the ball, bought a book with the money. The books I bought I read : the books I read influenced my career." Perhaps this eminent person might have thought of the balls thus refused in his early youth when, being still young, he gave his owu first ball as Prime Minister. But hobbies should be wives, not mistresses. It will not do to have more than one at a time. One hobby leads you out of extravagance ; a u ON THE MANAGEMENT OF MONEY. 07 team of hobbies you cannot drive till you are rich enough to find corn for them all. Few men are rich enough for that. In the management of money there are some things we do for show — wisely if we can afford it. Money is station as well as character and power. In matters of show, it is better to have one decided success than fifty expensive failures. Better to have one first-rate picture in a modest drawing-room than fifty daubs in a pompous gallery. Better to have ono handsome horse in a brougham than four screws in a drag. Better to give one pleasant tea party than a dozen detestable dinners. A man of very moderate means can generally attbrd one efiect meant for show, as a requisite of station, which, of its kind, may not be sur- passed by a millionaire. Those who set the fashions in London are never the richest pco})ie. Good taste is intuitive with some persons, but it may be acquired by all who are observant. In matters of show, good taste is the elementary necessity : after good taste, concentration of purpose. With money as with genius, the wise master of his art says, " There is one thing I can do well ; that one thing I will do as well as I can," Money, like genius, is efi'ective in proportion as it is brought to bear on one thing at a time. Money, like genius, may comprehend success in a hundred thing.s, but still, as a rule, one thing at a time ; that thing must be completed or relinquished before you turn to another. For a young man of a gentleman's station and a cadet's income, the only show needed is that which probably pleases himself the most — the efiect produced by his own personal appearance. Dress will therefore not un- reasonably, and by no means frivolously, demand some of his thoughts .uid much of his money. To the station of a young aspirant of fashion in ihe polite world, who is known not to be rich, it matters nothing what lie pays for his lodging : he can always give his address at a club or hotel. No cue cares how much or how little he pays for his dinner. No fine liidy inquires if he calls at her house on foot or in a carriage. But society expects him to dress as nmch like a gentleman as if he were a young duke : and, fortunately, as young dukes nowadays do not wear gold lace and miniver, this is no unreasonable exaction on the part of society. A gentleman's taste in dress is, upon principle, the avoidance of all things extravagant. It consists in the quiet simplicity of exquisite neatness ; hut as the neatness must be a neatness in fashion, employ the best tailor ; pay him ready money, and, on the whole, you will find him the cheapest. Still, if a young man of the gay world means to do the best that he can for his person, and really does obtain a certain rank or repute should it be G ^- 98 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. only said of him that Jio is extremely well dressed, he will remember that no man in great capitals, without pre-eminent claims of fortune, birth, or beauty, ever really finds a place in haut ton without some cultivation of mind. All the men I have ever known who have lifted themselves into authority in the inner circles of fashion have been men of considerable in- tellectual accomplishment. They have either had wit or humour to a fine degree, or admirably strong sense and judgment, or keen penetration into character ; they have been, from qualities far below the surface, either charming or instructive companions. Mere dandies are but cut flowers in a bouquet — once faded, they can never reblossom. In the drawing-room, as every where else, Mind in the long-run prevails. And, oh, well-booted Achaian ! for all those substantial good things which money well managed commands, and which, year after year, as you advance in life, you will covet and sigh for, yon sloven, thick- shoed and with cravat awry, whose mind, as he hurries by the bow-win- dow at White's, sows each fleeting moment with thoughts which grow not blossoms for bouquets, but corn sheaves for garners, will, before he is forty, be far more the fashion than you ! He is commanding the time out of which you are fading. And time, oh, my friend ! is money. Time wasted can never conduce to money well managed. PEOVERBS, NEW AND OLD. Never sacrifice safety to large expected returns. Never make a loan on importunity. Never loan a borrowing friend more than you are willing to lose if he can't pay. Never speculate deeper than you are able to lose if you lose it all. Never borrow money to speculate with. Owe no man any thing. Be satisfied with a moderate rent to a fjood tenant. Keep well insured, and watch your policy. Never consult a man on business who does not manaorc well his own. Avoid a second mortgage for a fresh loan. He that maketh haste to be rich is not wise. Poverty is no bar to marriage if both parties will work and save. The gods help those who help themselves — men or women. God promises nothing to idleness. A man must ask his wife if he may be rich. Little coins, like little drops of water, will fill a bucket. As we ►Short g f'ortun( Money Money ( Jt is eas fn discu Leas wis made. HOW TO PRESERVE YOUR HEALTH. 99 As we sow in temporal affairs we shall reap. Short settlements make long friendships. Fortunes are made by earnings and savings. Money easily gotten is soon spent. Money earned is money valued. It is easier to loosen up good property than to re-establish it. In discussing business disagreements keep cool. Less wisdom is required to make money than to keep it securely when made. oh) t0 |3rc!5crbc jicur ^talth. HE leading conditions essential to health may be thus enu- merated :-"l. A constant supply of pure air ; 2. A suffi- ciency of nourishing food, rightly taken ; 3. Cleanliness ; 4. A sufficiency of exercise to the various organs of the system ; 5. A right temperature ; G. A sufficiency of cheer- ful and innocent enjoyments; and, 7. Exemption from harassing cares. AIE. The common air is a fluid composed mainly of two gases, in certain proportions ; namely, oxygen as twenty and nitrogen as eighty parts in a hundred, with a very minute addition of carbonic acid gas. Such is air in its pure and right state, and such is the state in which we require it for respiration. When it is loaded with any admixture of a different kind, or its natural proportions are in any way deranged, it cannot be breathed without producing injurious results. We also require what is apt to appear a large quantity of this element of healthy existence. The lungs of a healthy full-grown man, will inhale the bulk of twenty cubic inches at every inspiration, and he will use no less than fifty-seven hogsheads in twenty-four hours. Now, there are various circumstances which tend to surround us at times with vitiated air, and which must accordingly be guarded against. The first calling for attention is the miasma or noxious quality imparted 100 THE HOMK, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP. EDI. V. to the air in certain districts by sta<,niant water and decayed vegetable matter. It is now generally acknowledged that this noxious quality is in reality a subtle poison, which acts on the human system through tlie medium of the lungs, ])roducing fevers and other e])idemics. Putrid n\attcr of all kinds is another conspicuous source of noxious efiluvia. The filth collected in ill-re,gulated towns— ill-managed drains- collections of decaying animal substances, placed too near or within private dwellin<'s — are notable for their effects in vitiating the atmosphere, and generating disease in those exposed to them. In this case also, it is a poison diffused abroad through the air which acts so injuriously on the human frame. The human subject tends to vitiate the atmosphere for itself, by tlio effect which it produces on the air whicli it breathes. Our breath, wlieii we draw it in, consists of the ingredients formerly mentioned ; but it is in a very different state when wq part with it. On passing into our lungs the oxygen, forming the les.ser ingredient, enters into combination with the carbon of the venous blood (or blood which has already performed its round through the body) ; in this process about two-fifths of the oxygen is abstracted and sent into the blood, only the remaining three-fifths being expired, along with the nitrogen nearly as it was before. In place of the oxygen consumed, there is expired an equal volume of caj'bonic acid gas, such gas being a result of the process of combination just alluded to. Now, carbonic acid gas, in a larger proportion than that in wliich it is found in the atmosphere, is noxious. The volume of it expired by the lungs, if free to mingle v/ith the air at large, will do no harm ; but, if breathed out into a close room, it will render the air unfit for being again breathed. Sup- pose an individual to be shut up in an air-tight box: each breath he emits throws a certain quantity of carbonic acid gas into the air filling the box; the air is thus vitiated, and every successive inspiration is composed of vv^orse and worse materials, till at length the oxygen is so much exhausted that it is insufiicient for the support of life. He would then be sensible ol' a gi-eat difficulty in breathing, and in a little time longer he would die. Most rooms in which human beings live are not strictly close. The cliimney and the chinks of the doors and windows generally allow of a communication to a certain extent with the outer air, so that it rarely liappens that great inunediate inconvenience is experienced in ordinary apartments from want of fresh air. But it is at the same time quite cer- tain that, in all ordinary apartments where human beings are assembled, the air unavoidably becomes considerably vitiated, for in such a situation there cannot be a sufticiently ready copious suj)ply of oxygen to make up FOOD. 101 for that which has been consumeil, and the carbonic acid gas will be con- stantly accunuilating. This is particularly the case in bed-rooms, and in theatres, churches, and schools. Perliaps it is in bed-rooms that the most harm is done. These are gene- lally smaller than other rooms, and they are usually kept close during t!ie whole night. The result of sleeping in such a room is very injurious. A conunon lire, from the draught which it produces, is very serviceable in ventilating rooms, but it is at best a defective means of doing so. The draught which it creates generally sweeps along near the floor between the door and the fire, leaving all above the level of the chinmey-piece unpu- riHed. Yet scarcely any other arrangement is anywhere made for the pur- pose of changing the air in ordinary rooms. FOOD. The second requisite for the preservjition of health is a sufficiency of nutritious food. Organic bodies, in which are included vegetables as well as animals, are constituted upon the principle of a continual ivaate of substance supplied b)/ continual nutrition. The Nutritive System of animals, from apparently the humblest of these to the highest, comprehends an alimentary tube or cavity, into which foo blood has now acquired those nutrient properties from which it secretes the new particles of matter adapted to suj)ply the waste of the different textures of the body. When food is received into the stomach, the secretion of the gastric juice immediately commences; and when a full meal has been taken, this secretion generally lasts for about an hour. It is a law of vital action, that when any living organ is called into play, tliere is immediately an increased flow of blood and nervous energy toward it. The stomach, while secreting its fluid, displays this phenomenon, and the consequence is, that the blood and nervous energy are called away from other organs. This is the cause of that chilliness at the extremities which we often feel after eating heartily. So great is the demand which the stomach thus makes upon the rest of the system, that, during and for some time after a meal, we are not in a condition to take strong exercise of any kind. Both body and mind are inactive and languid. They are so, simply because that which supports muscular and mental activity is concentrated for the time upon the organs of Jifjestion. This is an arranfjement of nature which a refjard to health recjuires that we should not interfere with. We should indulge In the mus- cular and mental repose luhich is demanded: and this should last for not much less than an hour after every meal. In that time the secretion of gas- tric juice is nearly finished ; the new nutriment begins to tell upon the general circulation ; and we are again fit for active exertion. The conse- se(}uence of not observing this rule is very hurtful. Strong exercise, or mental application during or immediately after a meal, diverts the fiow of nervous energy and of blood to the stomach, and the process of diges- tion is necessarily retarded or stopped. Confusion is thus introduced into the system, and a tendency to the teri'ible calamity of dyspepsia is perhaps established. For the same reason that repose is required after a meal, it is necessary, in some measure, fo' a little while before. At the moment when we have concluded a severe muscular task, such, for example, as a long walk, the flow of nervous energy and of circulation is strongly directed tu the muscular system., It requires some time to allow this fiow to stop and subside ; and till this takes place, it is not proper to bring the stomach into exercise, as the demand it makes when tilled would not in that case be answered. Just so if we be engaged in close mental application, the nervous energy and circulation being in that case directed to the brain, it is not right all at once to call another and distant organ into play ; some time is required to allow of the energy and circulation bjing prepared to take the new direc- tion. It may, therefore, be laid down as a maxim, that, a short perlgd of OF ■> .^^ pabV>!^ ^7 106 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. repose, or at least of very light occupation, should be alloived before every meal. Kinds of Food.— It lias been shown by a reference to the structure of the human intestinal canal, that our food is designed to be a mixture of animal and and vegetable substances. Inquiries with respect to the comparative digestibility of different kinds of food, are perhaps chietiy of consequence to those in whom health has already been lost. To the sound and healthy it is comparatively of little consequence what kind of food is taken, provided that some variation is observed, and no excess committed as to quantity. Within the range of fish, flesh, and fowl, there is ample scope for a safe choice. There is •scarcely any of the familiar aliments of these kinds, but, if plainly dressed, will digest in from two to four hours, and prove perfectly healthy. One rule alone has been pretty well ascertained, with respect to animal foods, that they are the more digestible the more minute and tender the fibre may be. They contain more nutriment in a given bulk than vegetable matters, and hence their less need for length of intestine to digest them. Yet it is worthy of notice, that between the chyle produced from animal and that from vegetable food, no essential distinction can be observed. Tendon, suet, and oily matters in general, are considerably less digest- ible than the ordinary fibre ; and these are aliments which should be taken sparingly. Pickling, from its etl'ects in hardening the fibre, dimin- ishes the digestibility of meat. Dressed shell-fish, cheese, and some other Animal foods, are avoided by many as not sufiiciently digestible. Farinaceous foods of all kinds — wheat, oaten, and barley bread, oaten porrage, sago, arrow-root, tapioca, j-nd potatoes — are highly suitable to the liuman constitution. They generally require imder two hours for diges- tion, or about half the time of a full mixed meal. The cottage children of Scotland, reared exclusively upon oatoii porridge and bread, with potatoes and milk, may be cited as a remarkable example of a class of human beings possessing in an uncommon degree the blessing of health. Green vegeta- bles and fruit, however softened by dressing, are less digestible, and less healthy as a diet. One important consideration here occurs. There is need for a certain bulk in our ordinary food. Receiving nutriment in a condensed form and in a small pace will not serve the purpose. This is because the organs of digestion are calculated for receiving our food nearly in the condition in which nature presents it, namely, in a considerable bulk with regard to its nutritions properties. Quantity of Food.— Number and Times of MEALS.-With respect to the amount of food necessary for health, it is ditticult to lay down any rule, as di/foren sex, age, a The nui mined. A and the wj at least thi of these, b( as a light r sci-iption fc a day is to( The intei no severe e: this interva ]»rohably fn at that peri( edness for e relief from tl spent. It in ment, to sup inach has be sons take lor 'loing sometl j,'o through tliat they wc to subtract fi the day. In wise of coun open p • , or a iii'lulged in With regai said with sci( Variety o iiiij)ortant. not be varied one or two ar and will prov specting one there is no vi "lakes excess ^'ind of food. FOOD, 107 as dilferent quantities are safe with different individuals, according to their sex, age, activity of life, and some other conditions. The number and times of meals are other questions as yet undeter- mined. As the digestion of a meal rarely requires more than four hours, and the waking part of a day is about sixteen, it seems unavoidable that at least three meals be taken, though it may be proper that one, if not two of these, be comparatively of a light nature. Breakfast, dinner, and tea as a light meal, may be considered as a safe, if not a very accurate, pre- scription for the daily food of a healthy person. Certainly four good meals a day is too much. The interval between rising and breakfast ought not to be great, and no severe exercise or task-work of any kind should be undergone during this interval. There is a general prepossession to the contrary, arising j)robably from the feeling of freedom and Jightness which most people feel at that period of the day, and which seems to them as indicating a prepar- edness for exertion. But this feeling, perhaps, only arises from a sense of relief from that oppression of food under which much vof the rest of the day is spent. It is quite inconsistent with all we know of the physiology of ali- ment, to suppose that the body is capable of much exertion when the sto- mach has been for several hours quite empty. We have known many per- sons take long walks before breakfast, under an impression that they were doing something extremely favourable to health. Others we have known j,'o through three hours of mental taskwork at the same period, believing that they were gaining so much time. But the only observable result wa.s to subtract from the powers of exertion in the middle and latter part of the day. In so far as the practice was contrary to nature, it would like- wise of course produce permanent injury. Only a short saunter in the open .1*: , or a very brief application to business or task- work, can be safely indulged in before breakfast. With regard to the time for either breakfast or dinner, nothing can be saiil with scientific authority. Variety of Food. — A judicious variation of food is not only useful, but important. There are, it is true, some aliments, such as bread, which can- not be varied, and which no one ever wishes to be so. But apart from one or two articles, a certain variation of rotation is much to be desired, and will prove favourable to health. There is a common prepossession re- specting one dish, which is more spoken of than acted upon. In reality, tliere is no virtue in this practice, excepting that, if rigidly adhered to, it makes excess nearly impossible, no one being able to eat to satiety of one kind of food. There would be a benefit from both a daily variation of I 108 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOIVEDIA. n food and eating of more than one dish at a meal, // moderation were in both cdseii to be .strictly observed, for tlie relish to be thus obtained is use- ful as promotive of the flow of nervous energy to the stomach, exactly in the same manner as cheerfulness is useful. The policy which would make food in any way unpleasant to the taste, is a most mistaken one ; for to eat with languor, or against inclination, or with any degree of disgust, is to lose much of the benefit of eating. On the other hand, to coo' dishes highly, and provoke appetite by artificial means, are equally reprehensi- ble. Propriety lies in the mean between the two extremes. Beverages. — The body containing a vast amount of fluids, which are undergoing a perpetual waste, there is a necessity for an occasional supjily of liquor of some kind, as well as of solid food. It remains to be considered what is required in the character or nature of this liquor, to make it serve the end consistently with the preservation of health. When the digestion is good and the system in full vigour, the bodily energy is easily sustained by nutritious food, and " artificial stimulent on/y increases the ivastinxj of the natural strength." Nearly all physicians, in- deed, concur in representing ardent liquors as unfavourable to the health ol Jie healthy, and as being in their excess highly injurious. Even the specious defence which has been set up for their use, on the ground that they would not have been given to man if they had not been designed for general use, has been shown to be ill-founded, seeing thac vinous fermenta- tion, from which they are derived, is not a healthy condition of vegetable matter, but \ stage in its progress of decay. Upon the whole, there can be little doubt that these liquors are deleterious in our ordinary healthy condition ; and that simple water, toast water, whey, ginger beer, or lemon- ade, would be preferable (the first being the most natural and the best of allj, if we could only consent to deny ourselves further indulgence. CLEANLINESS. To keep the body in a cleanly condition is the third important requisite for health. This becomes necessary in consequence of a very important process which is constantly going on near and upon the surface of the body. The process in question is that of perspiration. The matter here con- cerned is a watery secretion produced by glands near the surface of the body, and sent up through tlie skin by channels imperceptibly minute and wonderfully numerous. From one to two pounds of this secretion is believed to exude through these channels or pores in the course of twenty-four hours, being in fact the chief form taken by wliat is called the CLEANLINKSR. 109 waste of the system, the remainder passing off by the bowels, kidneys, and kmgs. To promote the egress of this fluid is of great consequence to health ; for when it is suppressed, disease is apt to fall upon some of the other organs concerned in the discharge of waste. One of the most notable checks which perspiration experiences is that produced by a current of cold air upon the skin, in which case the porea instantly contract and close, and the individual is seized with some ailment cither in one of the other organs of waste, whichever is in him the weak- est, or in the internal lining of some part of the body, all of which is sym- pathetic with the condition of the skin. A result of the nature of that last described is usually recognised as a cold or catarrh. We are not at present called on particularly to notice such effects of checked })erspiratioii, but others of a less immediately hui'tful or dangerous nature. The luid alluded to is composed, besides water, of certain salts and ani- mal matters, which, })eing solid, do not pass away in vapour, as does the watery part of the compound, but rest on the surface where they have been discharged. There, if not removed by some artificial means, they form a layer of hard stuff, and unavoidably impede the egress of the cur- rent perspiration. By cleanliness is merely meant the taking proper means to prevent this or any other matter accumulating on the surface, to the production of certain hurtful consequences. Ablution or washing is the best means of attaining this end ; and ac- cordingly it is well for us to wash or bathe the body very frequently. Many leave by far the greater part of their bodies unwashed, except, per- haps, on rare occasions, thinking it enough if the parts exposed to common view be in decent trim. If the object of cleaning were solely to preserve fail- appearances, this might be sufiicient ; but the great end, it must be clearly seen, is to keep the skin in a fit state foi- its peculiar and very im- portant functions. Frequent change of the clothing next to the skin is of course a great aid to cleanliness, and may partly be esteemed as a substi- tute for bathing, seeing that the clothes absorb much of the impurities, and, when changed, may be said to carry these off. But still this will not serve the end nearly so well as frequent ablution of the whole person. Any one will be convinced of this, who goes into a bath, and uses the flesh- hrush in cleansing his body. The quantity of .scurf and impurity which he will then remove, from even a body which has changes of linen once a Jay, will surprise him. 110 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. EXEKOISE. The constitution of external nature shows that man was destined for an active existence, as, witliout labour, scarcely any of the gifts of providence are to be made available. In perfect harmony with this character of the material world, he has been furnished with a muscular and mental system, constructed on the principle of being fitted for exertion, and requiring ex- ertion for a healthy existence. Formed as he is, it is not possible for him to abstain from exertion without very hurtful consequences. Muscular Exercise. — With regard to merely bodily exercise, it is to be observed, in the first place, that we have no fewer than four hundred muscles, each designed to serve some particular end in locomotion or in operating upon external objects. A sound state of body depends very much upon each of these muscles being brought into action in proper cii'- cumstances and to a suitable extent. There is even a law operating within a certain range, by which each muscle will gain in strength and soundness by being brought into a proper degree of activity. The i)rocess of waste and renovation may be said to be always going on in the body, but it does not go on with permanent steadiness unless the muscular .system be exercised. Whenever one of the organs is put into exertion, this process becomes active, and the two operations of which it consists maintain a due proportion to each other. A greater flow of blood and of nervous energy is sent to the organ, and this continues as long as it is kept in activity. When one state of action follows close upon ano- ther, the renovating i)art of the process rather exceeds the waste, and an accretion of new substance, as well as an addition of fresh power takes place. On the contrary, when an organ is little exercised, the process of renovation goes on languidly, and to a less extent than that of waste, and the parts consequently become flabby, shrunken, and weak. Even the bones are subject to the same laws. If these be duly exercised in their business of administering to motion, the vessels which pervade them are fed more actively with blood, and they increase in dimensions, solidity, and strength. If they be little exercised, the stimulus required for the supply of blood to them becomes insufficient ; imperfect nutrition takes place ; and the consequences are debility, softness, and unfitness for their office. Bones may be so much softened by inaction, as to become suscep- tible of being cut by a knife. In a less degree, the same cause will pro- duce languor and bad health. It is of the utmost importance to observe, that the exercise of any par- ticular limb does little besides improving the strength of that limb ; and EXERCISE. Ill that, in order to increase our general strength, the whole frame must be brought into exercise. In order, then, to maintain in a sound state the energies which nature has given us, and still more particularly, to increase their amount, we muni exercise them. If we desire to have a strong limb, we must exercise that limb ; if we desire that the whole of our frame should be sound and strong, we must exercise the whole of our frame. It is mainly by these means that health and strength are to be preserved and improved. There are rules, however, for the application of these laws of our being. 1. In order that exercise may be truly advantageous, the parts must be in a state of sufficient health to endure the exertion. In no case must ex- ercise be carried beyond what the parts are capable of bearing with ease ; otherwise a loss of energy, instead of a gain, will be the consequence. 2. Exercise, to be efficacious, even in a healthy subject, must be excited, sustained, and directed by that nervous stimulus which gives tlie muscles the principal part of their strength, and contributes so much to the nutri- tion of parts in a state of activity. 3. The waste occasioned by exercise must be duly replaced by food ; as, if there be any deficiency in that important requisite, the blood will soon cease to give that invigoration to the parts upon which increased health and strength depend. Kinds of Bodily Exercise. — Exercise is usually considered as of two kinds — active and passive. The active consists in walking, running, leaj*- ing, riding, fencing, rowing, skating, swimming, dancing, and various exer- cises, such as those with the poles, ropes, «fec., prescribed in gymnastic in- stitutions. The passive consists in carriage-riding, sailing, friction, swing- ing, &c. Walking is perhaps the readiest mode of taking exercise, and the one most extensively resorted to. If it brought the upper part of the body as thoroughly into exertion as the lower, it would be perfect, for it is gentle and safe with nearly all except the much debilitated. To render it the more effectual in the upper part of the body it were well to walk at all times, when convenient, singly and allow the arms and trunk free play. It is best to walk with a companion, or for some definite object, as the How of nervous energy will be by these means promoted, and the exercise be rendered, as has been already explained, the more serviceable. Very long or rapid walks should not be attempted by individuals of sedentary habits, nor by weakly persons. Their frames are totally unpre- pared for such violent exertion. 112 THK lloMK, FAHM AND BUSINKSS CYC'LOIVEDIA. Runniv;/ \H an exorcise wliich is intermediate between walking and leaping; it consists, in fact, of a series of leaps performed in progression fiom one foot to another, and the degree of its rapidity bears a constant proportion to the length of the individual and successive leaps. Although this and other gymnastic exercises, such as leaping, wrestling, throwing heavy weights, etc., may, when judiciously had recourse to, invigorate the body, yet, from apprehension of the evils and accidents which may be so occa.sioned, young persons ought not to be permitted to engage extensively in such exercises, except under the care of some one well acquainted with gymnastics. Fencing is of all active exercises that which is the most commendable, inasmuch as it throws open the cliest, and at the same time calls into ac- tion the muscles both of tlie upper and lower extremities. Add to this, that it improves very much the carriage of the body ; for which reason it may be reckoned a brancli of polite education. Dancbtg is exhilarating and healthful, and seems to be almost the only active exercise wliich the despotic laws of fashion permit young ladies to enjoy. Riding is generally classed among the passive exercises, but in reality it is one which involves much action of the whole frame, and as such is very useftil for health. Pursued solitarily, it has the drawback of being somewhat dull ; but, when two or three ride in company, a sufficient flow of the nervous enei-gy may be obtained. The amount of bodily exercise which should be taken must rary accord- ing to the habits, strength, and general health of the individual. It was an aphorism of Boerhaave, tliat every person should take at least two liours' exercise in the day, and this may be regarded as a good general rule. Mental Exercise. — Having thus explained the laws and regulations by which exercise may be serviceable to the physical system, we shall pro- ceed to show that the same rules hold good respecting the mental facul- ties. These, as is generally allowed, however immaterial in one sense, are connected organically with the brain — a portion of the animal system nourished by the same blood, and regulated by the same vital laws, as the nmscles, bones, and nerves. As, by disuse, muscle becomes emaciated, bone softens, blood-vessels are obliterated, and nerves lose their natural structure, so, by, disuse, does the brain fall out of its proper state, and create misery to its possessor ; and as, by over-exertion, the waste of the animal system exceeds the supply, and debility and unsoundness are pro- duced, so, by over-exertion, are the functions of the brain liable to be do- I C! fleets bear tlic inuiital J fxorciso mci or habitual mind has in dependence And, in like tu be strcn;^^ It ought t tui'f are not that pcrisha mind, we mi to too great intimate eon of tl\e mind systein^diic it ought to b lier of hours a|)j)lication, j be attemptec digestion car share of exer soundness in a severe presi established \ great portion Rkpose, a casional peric twenty-four 1 occupations f weakness is i confused, the mental faculti state of uncoi closing of t dormant ; anc pose themselv limbs having those that suj KXKKCISE. 11. T rrinciple of all efforts to improve and preserve health has been thus stated: "Man, as an organized being, is subject to organic laws, as much as the inanimate bodies which surround him are to laws mechanical and chemical ; and we can as little escape the consequences of nefflect or violation of those natural laws, which affect organic life through the air we breathe, the food we eat, and the exercise we take, as a stone projected from the hand, or a shot from the mouth of a cannon, can place itself beyond the bounds of gravitation." It may be added, that " all human science, all the arts of civilized man, consist of discoveries made by us of the laws impressed upon nature by the Author of the universe, and the —in wl placed ; which r di vidua iiumediatel A dark, should by a and spirits of the eye) infancy the the sun's lie never to be The best in the facts flourish if d^ 'lark slums ( labourer, are in their chee The pern roi'ldle class J>ieakfast-ro( -j about it. The object of bathing is not only for the purpose of cleanliness but as a means of invigorating the capillary circulation, and so fortifying the system as to enable it to resist atmos- pheric vicissitudes. To do this, however, it is imperative that the child should not remain in the bath (presuming it is not warm) more than a minute or two, as when the body is immersed in water below ninety degrees there is a sen- sation of cold, a shrinking of the skin, and a rush of blood from the small capillary vessels of the surface to the internal vessels, which state of things should be speedily followed by a reaction by the heart and largp vessels forcing the blood back again to the surface, and indeed to all the outlets ; so that the skin glows and perhaps perspires, the secretory organs act more strongly, the liver and other organs show an increased activity, and there is a general feeling of liveliness and vigour. But this will not be the case if there is any dawdling or delay, not only while in the water, but during the process of rubbing and drying, which must be performed with the greatest briskness, in order that the proper reaction, upon which the virtue of the bath depends, should take place : otherwise the child will get a chill, which will, in addition to nullifying the good, do it absolute harm. Up to the age of three months infants should, in all weathers, be bathed in warm water, but, after that age, at the warm seasons, apd dur- iii'inijMMWw""3 sent for immedi- ately. During the fir- stage an emetic of ipecacuanha, followed by an expec- torant every four Jioui's, should be given, the latter consisting of ipecacuanha wine, sirup of squills, a little sirup of white poppies and almond milk, and some mild aperient, such as castor«oil, or salts and senna, ihe emetic only to be repeated occasionally. The rooms to which the child should be confined should be of an equable tempei-ature, about sixty- five degrees, the bedroom being ventilated during the day and the sitting- room during the night ; but the windows of the apartment must on no account be opened while the patient is in them. When the second stage arrives, while proper attention is paid to tem- perature, the cough will be found much slighter and the expectoration much less than if the child were permitted to be exposed to the external air, the emetic being continued occasionally, and also the mixture, with a few drops of laudanum added to it. With regard to change of air, there is no doubt that while the at- tack is unsubdued, no matter what the weather may be, the patient should he confined not only to the house, but to rooms, as already stated, but when the disease is on the wane the change from a cold situation to one of warm temperature is most beneficial in accelerating a return to con- valescence, though the greatest ca'ition is needed in this matter. The diet of the child during ' he entire illness is a most important feature in connection with the t' iatment, and should consist chiefly of milk and farinaceous foods, moat ^eing of too heating a nature, imless the child is very weak and low, in which case tolerably good broth will be the best mode of giving animal food. VACCINATION. Unfortunately that dangerous and much dreaded malady — smallpox — is prevalent, and it would be well for parents and others to be reminded of the necessity of revaccination eveiy seven years. 130 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ■Pi It is astonishing that though this discovery is undoubtedl}'- one of the very greatest blessings to poor humanity it should now be thought so little of, and that there should be some who actually decry and refuse to accept it as such, when there is no doubt that if every one had followed the in- structions as to revaecination, by this time smallpox would have ceased altogether. No language can be too strong to depict the horrors of this disease, or to denounce the culpable ignorance of those who, blinding themselves to the blessings of vaccination, set the law at defiance and thus endanger the lives of their fellow-creatures. Supposing it could be proved (whici> it cannot) that in some cases it has been the means of imparting disease, the overwhelming number of cases where it has not, but has been a preven- tive of this terrible malady, ought to show its necessity on the beneficent principle of studying the greatest happiness of the greatest number. To children smallpox has ever been distressingly fatal, and though it is impossible to give any course of treatment for its cure in an article of this character, as so much depends upon the violence of the case, the state of the patient's constitution, and the stage of the complaint, it may be said that the old practice of close, hot rooms, warm clothing, and hot drinks are proved mistakes ; cool, well- ventilated apartments, comfortably cool bedclothes and cooling drinks having been found to be not only more pleasant but more successful in their results. When the disease first makes its appearance, if the fever be moderate and no professional advice be procurable, the patient should be confined to bed, and cool drinks and a dose or two of purgative medicine administered. FEVERS. Measles. — An acute specific disease — febrile and infectious, ushered in with catarrhal symptoms and characterized by an eruption on the skin, "which appears usually on the fourth day. Usual Symptoms. — After a period of incubation varying from twelve to fourteen days (the period of incubation in cases produced by inoculation is seven days), there is manifested alternate chilli- ness and heat, a quickened pulse, aching in the limbs, slight headache, soon followed by redness of the eyes, coryza, huskiness and hoarse cough. On the fourth day there is an eruption of soft, circular, very slightly ele- vated dusky red spots, which appear first on the forehead, and extend over the face, neck, and whole body. The spots gradually coalesce and present a peculiar crescentic or horseshoe shape. The spots disappear on pressure. They at and by cuticle, eruption The c( spots ar( eruption OCCASJ the attac there ma; may be a times abs The en; quantity i the colon: measles " ; resemble p cles are of will be m-Q AVERAGI Prognos great fever, an access o two or thre( lary bronch death. Treatmei loom, free fi qiiency and ( drinks may fectious feve: motions shou acid, or Cond tion. There body gently s ekin not lacerated, a warm application of arnica (which should always be kept where there are children) and watei", in the proportion of one part of arnica to ten of water, is advisable ; but in the absence of this, the old- fashioned remedy of covering the bruise with fiesh butter should be re- sorted to. Jammed fingers, through the unexpected shutting of a drawer or door, though not usually looked upon as at all serious casualties, may some- times be attended by the most serious consequences, for if all the parts of the end of the fingers be injured, the whole (bone and flesh) may mortify. In ordinary cases of this kind, the best and quickest way of obtaining relief, is to plunge the finger or fingers into warm water as hot as the child can bear it. By this means the nail is .softened, and yields so as to accom- modate itself to the blood poured out beneath it, and the pain is speedily lessened ; the finger .should then be covered with a bread and water poul- HINT3 TO HOU.SEKEKPEllS. 139 tice, pending the surgical treatment necessary where the fingers are badly crushed. Instant care and attontion in f'i^^^ cpoos will often prevent the loss of the nail, a result to be avoided if possible, since the formation and growth of the new nail are necessarily slow, and changes of shape frequently occur, sometimes resulting in permanent distigurem<'nt. Jjint$ \o J)ou5chccpcu!5. CHOICE OF ARTICLES OF FOOD. OTHING is more important in the afiairs of housekeeping than the choice of wholesome food. Mackerel must be perfectly fresh. The firmness of the flesh and the clearness of the eyes must be the criterion of fresh mackerel, as they are of other fish. Flounders, and all fiat white fish, are rigid and firm when fresh ; the under side should be of a rich cream colour. Cod is known to be fresh by the rigidity of the muscles (or flesh) ; the redness of the gills, and clearness of the eyes. Salmon. — The flavour and excellence of this fish depend upon its fresh- ness, and the shortness of time since it was caught. Herrings can only be eaten when very fresh. Fresh Watkr Fish. — The remarks as to firmness and clear, fresh eyes, apply to this variety of fi.sh, of which there are })ike, perch, etc. Lobsters recently caught have always some remains of muscular action in the claws, which may be excited by pressing the eyes with the finger ; when this cannot be produced, the lobster must have been too long kept. When boiled, the tail preserves its elasticity if fresh, but loses it as soon as it becomes stale. (^rabs have an agreeable smell when fresh. Prawns and Shrimps, when fresh, are firm and cri.sp. Oysters. — If fresh, the shell is firmly closed ; when the shells of oysters are opened, they are dead and unfit for food. The small-shelled oysters are I 140 THE HOMK, KAHM AND BUSINKSS (. Y(.LOP/KI>IA. ''I tlie finest in flavour. Larger kinds are jjonerally considered only fit for Htewini^ and sauces, thou<,di souie persons prefer them. Bekf. — The grain of ox beef, when good, is loose, the meat red, and the fat inclining to yeUovv. When meat pressed by the finger rises up (piickly, it may be cotisidered as that of an animal whicli was in its prime ; when the dent made by pressure returns slowly, or remains visible, the animal hail probably past its prime, and the meat conseipiently must be of infe- rior ([uality. Vkal should be delicately white, though it is often juicy and well flavoured, when rather dark in colour. On examining the loin, if the fat enveloping the kidney be white and firm looking, the meat will probably be prime, and recently killed. Mutton. — The meat should be firm and close in grain, and red in coloui- tl)e fat white and firm. Mutton is in its prime when the sheep is about five years old, though it is often killed much yoimger. If too young, the flesh feels temler when pinched, if too old on being pinched it wrinkles up and so remains. In young mutton, the fat readily separates ; in old, it is held together by strings of skin. Lamb. — This meat will not keep long after it is killed. The large vein in the neck is bluish in colour when the fore-quarter is fresh, green when beaming stale. In the hind-ijuarter, if not recently killed, the fat of the kidney will have a slight smell, and the knuckle will hav3 lost its firmness. Pork. — When good, the rind is thin, smooth, and cool to the touch ; when changing, from being too long killed, it becomes flaccid and clammy. Bacon should have a thin i-ind, and the fat should be firm and tinged with red by the curing ; the flesh should be of a clear red, without inter- mixture of yellow, and it should firmly adhere to the bone. To judge the state of a ham, plunge a knife into it to the bone ; on drawing it back, if particles of meat adhere to it, or if the smell is disagreeable, the curing has not been effectual, and the ham is not good ; it should, in such a state be immediately cooked. Venison. — When good, the fat is clear, bright, and of considerable thick- ness. Turkeys. — In choosing poultry, the age of the bird is the chief point to be attended to. An old turkey has rough and reddish legs ; a young one, smooth and black. Fresh killed, the eyes are full and clear, and the feet moist. When it has been kept too long, ihe parts about the vent begin to wear a greenish, discoloured appearance. Common Domestic Fowls, when young, have the legs and comb smooth ; when old, they are rough, and on the breast long hairs are found instead 8EAS0NABLK FOOD. 141 of featliei's. Fowls an<, pigeons, plovers, rabbits, turkeys, v/dd ducks, wild pigeons, rabbits, quail. Yegetablks. — Artichokes, beans, cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cucumbers, herbs of all sorts, leeks, lettuce, mushrooms, onions, parsnips, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad of all sorts, turnips, tomatoes, Carolina po- tatoes. Fruit. — Api)les, dam.sons, grapes, hazel-nuts, medlars, peaches, pea s, pine-ap]»les, plums, piinces, strawberries, walnuts. • OCTOBER. Fish. — Cockles, cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, mussels, oys- ters, perch, jylke, salmon-trout, shrimps, smelts, porgies. Meat. — Beef, mutton, pork, veal, doe-venison. FoULTRY AND Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, green geese, larks, par- tridges, 'pheasants, pigeons, red-bird, black -bird, robins, snipes, turkey, wild ducks, wild pigeons, wild rabbits, woodcock, teal. Vegetables. — Artichokes, cabbages, cauliflowers, celery, herbs of all sorts, onions, parsnips, peas, potatoes, radishes, salad, spinach (winter), tomatoes, turnips, Carolina potatoes. Fruit. — Almonds, apples, black and white damsons, hazel-nuts, grapes, peaches, pears, quinces, walnuts. NOVEMBER. Fish. — Cockles, cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, mussels, oys- ters, perch, iiihe, salmon, shrinqis, smelts, porgies, flounders. Meat. — Beef, house-lamb, nmtton, pork, veal, doe-venison. Poultry and Game. — Chickens, ducks, fowls, geese, larks, partridges, pigeons, rabbits, snipes, turke}'^, wild ducks, v.'oodcock, robins. Vegetables. — Beets, cabbages, carrots, celery, herbs of all sorts, lettuce, onions, parsnips, potatoes, salad, spinach, tomatoes, turnips. Fruit. — Almond.s, apples, chestnuts, hazel nuts, grapes, pears. DECEMBER. Fish. — Cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, halibut, lobsters, oysters, perch, pike, salmon, shrimps, smelts, sturgeon. i i1 '. ^', ^i,^; '^^^1^ A FASHIONABLE SUMMER RESORT. Mea' POL'I fowl, lia turkey, Vege' onions, Fituii The m( below is Beaf— (three rib.< of the rib.' cheek. nind Q ions of the divide the (belly piecf ^<'''f is in s Mutton.- or tail end). chine is two Mutton is tl LAxMb is c breast, leg, a POKK is CI ■spare rib (or V^fiAL is cu loin (chump, kle (which jo breast (best e 807?,, hut dear Venison is venison is hes\ ve.nison in Ju Ox -TAIL is ] The TONGUE is NAMES AND SITUATIONS OF THE JOINTS. 145 Meat. — Beef, house-lainb, mutton, pork, veal, doe-venison. Poultry and Gami:. — Capons, chickens, ducks, fowls, geese, guinea- f(jwl, hares, larks, partridges, pea-fowl, pheasants, pigeons, rabbits, snipes, turkey, wild ducks, woodcock. Vegetables. — Beets, cabbages, carrots, celery, herbs of all sorts, lettuce, onions, parsnips, potatoes, salad, spinach, turnips. FiiUiT. — Apples, chestnuts, hazel-nuts. NAMES AND SITUATIONS OF THE JOINTS. The method of cutting up the carcases varies. That which we describe below is the most general. Beaf — Fore Quarter. — Fore rib (five ribs) ; middle rib (four ribs) ; chuck (three ribs). Shoulder piece (top of fore leg) ; brisket (lower or belly part of the ribs); clod (fore shoulder blade) ; neck; shin (below the shoulder);, cheek. Hind Quarter. — Sirloin ; rump ; aitchbone — these are the three divis- ions of the upper part of the quarter ; buttock and mouse-buttock, which divide the thigh ; 7einy piece, joining buttock ; thick flank and thin flank (belly pieces) and leg. The sirloin and rump of both sides form a baron. Beef is in season all the year ; best in the winter. Mutton. — Shoulder ; breast (the belly) ; over which are the loin (chump or tail end). Loin (best end) ; and neck (best end) ; neck (scrag end). A chine is two necks ; a saddle, two loins ; then there are the leg and head. Mutton is the best in winter, spring, and autumn. Lamb is cut into fore quarter and hind quarter ; a saddle, or loin ; neck, breast, leg, and shoulder. Grassdamb is in season froTti June to August. PoiiK is cut into leg, hand or shoulder ; hind loin ; fore loin ; belly part ; spare rib (or neck) ; and head. Pork is in season nearly all the year. V^EAL is cut into neck (scrag end) ; neck (best end) ; loin (best end) ; loin (chump, or tail end) ; fillet (upper part of the hind leg) ; hind knuc- kle (which joins the fillet knuckle of fore leg ; blade (bone of shoulder) ; breast (best end) ; breast (brisket end) ; and hand. Veal is ahvays in sea- son, but dear in the winter and spring. Venison is cut into haunch (or back) ; neck, shoulder, and breast. Doe- vcnison is best in January, October, November, and December, and buck' venison in June, July, August, and September. Ox -TAIL is much esteemed for purposes of soup ; so also is the CHEEK. The TONGUE is highly esteemed. ft 14G THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.l^DIA. m H Calves' Heads are very useful for various dishes; so also their knuck- les, FEET, HEART, etc, INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. Cooking. — Ten pounds of beef require from two hours to two hours and a half roasting, eighteen inches from a good fire. Six pounds requii*e one hour and a quarter to one hour and a half, four- teen inches from a good, clear fire. Three ribs of beef, boned and rolled, tied round with paper, will require two hours and a half, eighteen inches from the fire, baste once only. The first three ribs of fifteen or twenty pounds, will take three hours or three and a half ; the fourth and fifth ribs will take as long, managed in the same way as the sirloin. Paper the fat and the thin part, or it will be done too much, before the thick part in done enough. When beef is very fat, it does not require basting ; if very lean, tie it up in greasy papei-, and baste frequently and well. Common cooks are generally fond of too fierce a fire, and of putting things too near to it. Slow roasting is as advantageous to the tenderness and flavour of meat as slow boiling. The warmer the weather, and the staler killed the meat is, the less time it will require to roast it. Meat that is very fat requires more time than other meat. In the hands of an expert cook, "alimentary substances are made al- most entirely to change their nature, their form, consistence, odour, sa- vour, colour, chemical composition, etc. ; everything is so modified, that it is often impossible for the most exquisite sense of taste to recognise the substance which makes up the basis of certain dishes. The greatest util- ity of the kitchen consists in making the food agreeable to the senses, and rendering it easy of digestion." Boiling extracts a portion of the juice of meat, which mixes with the water, and also dissolves some of its solids ; the more fusible parts of the fat melt out, combine witk the water, and form soup or broth. The meat loses its red colour, becomes more savoury in taste and smell, and moi'e firm and digestible. If the process is continued too long, the nieart be- comes indigestible, less succulent, and tough. To boil to perfection, it should be done slowly, in plenty of water, re- placed by other hot water, as evaporation takes place ; for, if boiled too quickly, the outside becomes tough ; and not allowing the ready trans- mission of heat, the interior remains rare. The 1 boilini' poultiy, The ] hams, 1:^ chickens Tlie es for each There art fi'oni twei hour. F( ten to tw( ))end muc of the join required t A han A ton* A ton< A nocl A chic A Jarg( A capo A pige( The loss 1 -> oths to ne hutcher's mc The loss p l.')l-Gth; or quarters of li^L' ; on chic Broiling i Jegree of cha a liigher flav( surface becon tlie evapoi-ati( 'JG as tender a Baking dot h the jn-ocesj INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 147 The loss by boiling varies from G^ to 16 per cent. The average loss on boiling butcher's meat, i)ork, hams, and bacon, is 12 ; and on domestic poultry, is 14f. The loss per cent, on boiling salt beef is 1.5; on legs of mutton, 10; hams, 12i ; salt jjork, 13J ; knuckles of veal, 8^ ; bacon, G^ ; turkeys, 16 ; chickens, 13 A. The established rule as regards time, is to allow a quarter of an hour foi- each pound of meat if the boiling is rapid, and twenty minutes if slow. There are exceptions to this ; for instance, ham and pork, which require from twenty to twenty-five minutes per pound, and bacon nearly half an hour. For solid joints allow fifteen minutes for every pound, and from ten to twenty minutes over ; though of course, the length of time will de- j)end much on the strength of the fire, regularity in the boiling and size of the joint. The following table will be useful as an average of the time required to boil the various articles : H. M. A ham, 20 lbs. weight, re(piires G 30 A tongue (if dry), after soaking 4 00 A tongue, out of pickle 2i to 3 00 A neck of mutton 1 30 A chicken 20 A large fowl 45 A capon 35 A pigeon 15 The loss by roasting varies, according to Professor Donovan, from 14 o oths to nearly double that rate, per cent. The average loss on roasting butcher's meat is 22 per cent. ; and on domestic poultry is 20i. The loss per cent, on roastirg beef, viz., on sirloins and ribs together, is 1!) l-6th ; on mutton, viz., legs and shoulders together, 24 4-5ths ; on fore quarters of lamb, 22 J ; on ducks, 27 l-5th ; on turkeys, 20^ ; on geese, 19^ ; on chickens, 14 3-5ths. BiioiLiNG requires a l)risk, rapid heat, which, by producing a greater degree of change in the afiinities of the raw meat than roasting, generates a higher flavour, so that broiled meat is more savoury than roast. The surface becoming charred, a dark- coloured crust is formed, which retards the evaporation of the juices ; and therefore if properly done, broiled may be as tender and juicy as roasted meat. Baking does not admit of the evaporation of the vapours so rapidly as by the processes of broiling and roasting ; the fat is also retained more. 148 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ii and becomes converted by the agency of the heat into an empyreumatic oil, so as to render the meat less fitted for delicate stomachs, and more difficult to digest. The meat is in fact, partly boiled in its own confined water, and partly roasted by the dry hot air of the oven. The loss by baking has not been estimated ; and as the time required to cook many articles must vary with their size, nature, etc., we have con- sidered it better to leave that until giving the receipts f6r them. Frying is of all methods the most objectionable, from the foods being less digestibL when thus prepared, as the fat employed undergoes chemi- cal changes. Olive oil in this respect is preferable to lard or butter. Roast Beef. — The tender-loin and first and second cuts off the rack are the best roasting pieces — the third and fourth cuts arc good. When the meat is put to the firo, a little salt should be sprinkled on it, and tlie bony side turned toward the fire first. When the bones get well heated through, turn the meat, and keep a brisk fire — baste it frequently while roasting. There should be a little water put into the dripping pan when the meat is put down to roast. If it is a thick piece, allow fifteen min- utes to each pound to roast it in— if thin less time will be required. Beef Steak. — The tender-loin is the best piece for broiling — a steak from the round or shoulder clod is good and comes cheaper. If the beef is not very tender, it should be laid on a board and pounded, before broil- ing or frying it. Wash it in cold water, then lay it on a gridiron, place it on a hot bed of coals, and broil it as (|uick as possible without burning it. If broiled slow it will not be good. It takes from fifteen to twenty minutes to broil a steak. For seven or eight pounds of beef, cut up a quarter of a pound of butter. Heat the platter very hot that the steak is to be put on, lay the butter on it, take up the stenk, salt and pepper it on both sides. Beef steak to be good should be eaten as soon as cooked. A few slices of salt pork broiled with the steak makes a rich gravy with a very little butter. There should always be a trough to catch the juices of the meat when broiled. The same pieces that are good broiled are good for frying. Fry a few slices of salt pork brown , then take them up and put in the beef. When browr. on both sides, take it up, take the pan off from the fire, to let the fat cool ; when cool, turn in half a teacup of water, mix a couple of teaspoonf uls of flour with a little water, stir it into the fat, put the pan back on the fire; stir it till it boils up, then turn it over the beef. Alamode Beef. — The round of beef is the best piece to alamode — the shoulder clod is good, and comes lower; it is also good stewed, without any spices. For five pounds of beef, soak about a pound of bread in cold water ti piece of same (piii pie of O'Tn tlien cut sing, put it ; set it heated Ixi reserved < to brown IS taken uj of flour wi tor, a wine; Beef Li to hvoil it t out, cut it i with a little To Coitv salt, an oun( pie use mola J'eef in the b it is strong ei •skimmed, am put in the br to tJie bone o ''oef in order cult to corn \ to corn it in t six or eight p •"^''ie that is tc water into the tiiin in more c Ml^ttox. 1 '■i''' good roaste I'li-'ce of salt p ^^utton for roa salt and peppe Pi't a small pie The bony side i foiling or roast iNsrRi-cTio.v., rou oookin-g. watoi- till soft, then drain off H,. . ' "" r'«e of buttor, of the size of „ ' ""'■* "'» bread fine „„f • f »i «S«., and a tablespoo S ;',?' "'' P"''"-^'' ''"If" "otn o. a 'co " l-> cutga,l,esi„ the .leeUnd fil ;hr""-\"'° "''°'« ^vell to'^ether -g. l;» t e „eat in „ ^^^ "ill I "'"' "''"" '""^ «f 'ho dre. witn a Jittle water, and stir if ;«f .t teaspoonful or twn '» •™" it ten minute Jeh^ufo:.'/™",'. ■"" ">' ''-' -^ to cook it i, T . n r'"' ''""<>'• "nd pepper St '•/''■ P"' " '" -^ ^tew-pan To CoHv Beef.-To every TaE of ^^7 '^"'"' ""^ "^^ '"'"utes. ™lt, an ounce of saltpetre, qua, te off ''°'^™''"-. P"t a quart of rock ; :. -r'^es, but it is ko'ttgool; IZfoui '■""' ™^^^ (-- p- *tt in the brmc. Aslon<^as»„„ /' ""'''"ff " necessary Put ,!,„ '[- strong enough. "AVh^n Z a„vtu"""'" "' "'^ l"""- of the c^'k •*'mmed,and more sugar salt In d^," "'"'• ""* brine shouh- be scaldtT fo'th^b"^ 'T -•^ « "'"0 a o^ ';:%f,f <■• ^""-piece^rft cult ! '"''P " "nder the brine Tn ? '^^^^ '*'«8'it on the '-"'" 't m the pot when boiled t. • j " *'"" account it is t,ood •« or eight pounds of beef p„ t ' „ I '" """'" ">« Allowing manner tf Side that iq fr. ™ ' P "' ^ teacup of saJf • .., • i i » "''*""erj to waterTnfn , ^"^ "^' '" ^^^« ^^We, and nut f , ' .^""^'' ^°"^ «» the w ter .nto the pot after the beef s 2t fn h i 7" '" '^' P°^' *«^n the ^^;;«on for roLting sLlt 'iratut ^ tt " '™P™- '>^^t^^^^^^^^^ ^' and pepper sprinkled on it <,' "''■"<''■ ™bbed on it, and a htt le P'" a small piece of butter™ ttT' ^'°^'' '*^ «'°™-' an^ a',,! 1' "-- --~naiw a .^ :f'^:; ttteir^^^-fj 150 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. meat. Tlio leg is good cut in gashes, aiul filled with a dressing, and baked. The dressing is made of .soaked bread, a little butter, salt, and pepper, and a couple of eggs, A pint of water with a little butter shoidd be put in a pan, The leg is also good, cut into slices and broiled. It is good corned a few days, and then boiled. The rack is good for broiling — it should be divided, each bone by itself, broiled quick, and buttered, salted and peppered. The breast of mutton is nice baked. The joints off the brisket should be separated, the sharp ends of the ribs sawed off, the outside rubbed over with a little piece of butter — salt it, and put it in a bake-pan, with a pint of water. When done, take it up, and thicken the gravy with a little flour and water, and put in a small piece of butter. A tablespoonful of ketchup, cloves and allspice, improve it, but are not es- sential. The neck of mutton makes a good soup. Parsley or celery- heads are a pretty garnish for mutton. Veal. — The loin of veal is the best piece for roasting. The breast and rack are good roasted. The breast is also good made into a pot-[)ie, and the rack cut into small pieces and Vjroiled. The leg is nice for frying, and when several slices have been cut off for cutlets, the remainder is nice boiled with a small piece of salt pork. Veal for roasting should be salted, peppered, and a little butter rubbed on it, and basted frequently. Put a little water in the dripping-pan, and unless the meat is quite fat, a little butter should be put in. The fillet is good baked, the bone should be cut out, and the place filled with a dressing, made of bread soaked soft in cold water, a little salt, pepper, a couple of eggs, and a tablespoonful of melted butter put in — then sew it up, put it in your bake-pan, with about a pint of water, cover the top of the meat with some of the dressing. When baked sufficiently, take it up, thicken the gravy with a little flour and water well mixed, put in a small piece of butter and a little wine and ketchup, if you like the gravy rich. Veal Cutlets. — Fry three or four slices of pork until brown — take them up, then put in slices of veal, ftbout an inch thick, cut from the leg. When brown on both sides, take them up ; stir half a pint of water into the gravy, then mix two or three teaspoonfuls of flour with a little water, and stir it in ; soak a couple of slices of toasted bread in the gravy, lay them on the bottom of the platter, place the meat and pork over it, theii turn on the gravy. A very nice way to cook the cutlets, is to make a batter with half a pint of milk, an egg beaten to a froth, and flour enough to render it thick. When the veal is fried brown, dip it into the batter, then put it back into the fat, and fry it until brown again. If you have any batter left, it is nice dropped by the large spoonful into the fat, and 1 a fried ti over til is touL^I Calf feet Before when th butter, tlie hea( they ar( in, mak or season after the you wish rub a litt flour over brick ovei water, bu< it up as a it, rub but cover it w and season and lay th garnish it i F0RCE-]\i one or two •^alt and p baif an ecL'- Calf's J lay them ro boiled tende you have ta in ; season i if you like, 1 Calf's L] like the live A Fillet in the remaii mashed; sea pork fine, pu INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 151 fried till brown, then laid over the veal. Thicken the gravy and turn it over the whole. It takes about an hour to cook this dish. If the meat is tough, it will be better to stew it half an hour before frying it. Calf's IIkad. — Boil the head two hours, together with the lights and feet. Put in the liver when it has boiled an hour and twenty minutes. Before the head is done, tie the brains in a bag, and boil them with it ; when the brains are done, take them up, season them with salt, pepper, butter, and sweet herbs, or spices if you like — use this as a dressing for the head. Some people prefer i)art of the liver and feet for dressing ; they are prepared like the brains. The liquor that the calf's head is boiled in, makes a good soup, seasoned in a plain way like any other veal soup, or seasoned turtle fashion. The liquor should stand until the next day after the head is boiled, in order to have the fat rise, and skimmed off. If you wish to have your calf's head look brown, take it up when tender, rub a little butter over it, sprinkle on salt, popper, and allspice — sprinkle tlour over i^, and put before the fire, with a Dutch oven over it, or in a brick oven where it will brown quick. Warm up the brains with a little water, butter, salt, and pepper. Add wine and spices if you like. Serve it up as a dressing for the head. Calf's head is also good baked. Halve it, rub butter over it, put it in a pan, with about a quart of water; then cover it with a dressing made of bread soaked soft, a little butter, an egg, and season it with salt, pepper, and powdered mace. Slice up the brains, and lay them in the pan with the head. Bake it in a quick oven, and ^'arnish it with slices of lemon, or force meat-balls. Force-Meat Balls. — Chop a pound or two of veal fine ; mix it with one or two eggs, a little buttei', or raw pork chopped fine ; season it with salt and pepper, or curry powder. Do it up into balls about the size of half an egg, and fry them brown. Calf's Feet. — Boil them with the head, until tender, then split and lav them round the head, or dredge them with Hour after they have been boiled tender, and fry them brown. If you wish for gravy for them, when you have taken them up, stir a little flour into the fat they were fried in ; season it with salt, pepper, and mace. Add a little butter and wine if you like, then turn it over the feet. Calf's Liver and Heart — Are good broiled or fried. Some people like the liver stuffed and baked. A Fillet of Veal. — Cut off the shank of a leg of veal, and cut gashes i)i the remainder. Make a dressing of bread, soaked soft in cold water, and inashed ; season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs ; chop a little raw pork fine, put it in the dressing, and if you have not pork, use a little but- 132 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ter instead. Fill the gushes in the meat with part of the dressing, put it in the bake-pan, with just water enough to cover it ; put the rt'inainder of the dressing on top of the meat, and cover it with a h ated bake-pan lid. For six pounds of veal, allow two hours steady baking. A leg of veal is nice prepared in this manner, and roasted. Lamh. — The fore and hind quarters are good roasting pieces. Sprinkle wait and pepper on the lamb, turn the bony side toward the fire Hrst ; if not fat, rub a little butter on it, and put a little in the drip[)ing-pan ; V)aste it frequently. These pieces are good stutfed like a fillet of veal, and roasted. The leg is also good, cooked in the same manner ; but it is better boiled with a pound of salt pork. Allow fifteen minutes boiling to each pound of meat. The brea.st of lamb is good roasted, broiled, or corned and boiled ; it is also good made into a pot-pie. The fore quarter, with the ribs divided, is good broiled. The bones of this, as well as all kinds of meat, when put down to broil, should first be put towards the fire, and browned before the other side is broiled. A little salt, pepper, and butter, .should be put on it when you take it up. Lauib is very apt to spoil in warm weather. If you wish to keep a leg several days, put it in brine. It should not be put with pork, as fresh meat is apt to injure it. Lamb's head, feet, and heart, are good, boiled till tender, then cut oft' the fle.sh from the head, cut up the heart, and split the feet in two ; put the whole into a pan, with a pint of liquor they were boiled in, together with a little butter, pepper, salt, and half a teacup of tomato ketchup ; thicken the gravy with a little flour ; stew the whole for a few moments. Pepper-grass or parsley is a pretty garnish for this dish. Lamb's Fry. — The heart and sweetbread are nice fried plainly, or dipped into a beaten egg and fine bread crumbs. They should be fried in lard. Turkey. — Take out the inwards, wash both the inside and outside of the turkey. Prepare a dressing made of bread eoaked soft in cold water (the water should be di;ained from the bread, and the bread mashed fine). Melt a small piece of butter, and mix it with the dressing, or else put in salt pork chopped fine ; season it with salt and pepper ; add sweet herbs if you like. An egg in the dressing makes it cut smoother. Any kind of cooked meat is nice minced fine, and mixed with the dressing. If the in- wards are used, they ought to be boiled very tender, as it is very difficult to cook them through while the turkey is roasting. Fill the crop and body of the turkey with the dressing, sew it up, tie up the legs and wings, rub on a little salt and butter. Roast it from two to three hours, accord- ing to its size ; twenty-five minutes to every pound is a good rule. The INSTRUCTIONS FOR fOOKIXO. 153 tiivkoy sliould Lc roasted slowly at first, and busted frequently. A little water should be put into the (lrippin;,f-pan, when the meat is put down to roast. For a gravy to the turkey, take the liquor that the inwards are boiled in, put into it a little of the turkey drippings, set it where it will boil, thicken it with a little flour and water previously mixed smooth. Season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs if you like. Drawn butter is used for boiled turkey. A turkey for boiling should be prepared in the same manner as one for roasting. If you wish to have it look white, tie it up in a cloth, unless you boil rice in the pot. If rice is used, put in two-thirds of a teacup. A pound or two of salt pork boiled with the turkc}', improves it. If you wish to make a soup of the liquor in which the turkey is boiled, let it remain until the next day, then skim off the fat. Heat and season it. Goose. — If a goose is tender under the wing, and you can break the skin easily by running the head of a ])in across the breast, there is no dan- ger of it being tough. A goose should be dressed in the same manner, and roasted the same length of time as a turkey. Chickens. — Chickens for roasting or boiling should have a dressing prepared like that for turkeys. Half a teacup of rice boiled with the chickens makes them look white. They will be less liable to break if the water is cold when they are put in. A little salt pork boiled with the chickens improves them. If you do not boil pork with them you will need salt. Chickens for broiling should be split, the inwards taken out, and the chicken washed inside and out. Put the bony side clown on the gridiron, and broil it very slowly until brown, then turn it, and brown it on the other side. About forty minutes is required to broil a common -sized chicken. For roast chicken, boil the liver and gizzards by themselves, and use the water for gravy to the chickens ; cut the inwards in slices, and put them in the gravy. F'tiCASSEE. — The chickens should be jointed, the inwards taken out, and the* chickens washed. Put them, in a stew-pan with the skin side down; on each layer sprinkle salt and pepper ; put in three or four slices of j)ork, just cover them with water, and let them stew till tender. Then take them up, mix a little flour and water together, and thicken the liquor they were stewed in, add a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg, then put the chickens back, in the stew-pan, and let them stew four or five minutes longer. When you have taken up the chickens, soak two or three slices of toast in the gravy, then put them in your platter, lay the chickens over the toast, and turn the gravy on them. If you wi.sh to brown the chickens, stew them without the pork till tender, then fry the \m :54 THE HOME> FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.flDIA. pork brown, take it up, put in the chickens, and then fry until a light brown. Pigeons. — Take out the inwards, and stuff the pigeons with a dressing prepared like that for turkeys, lay them in a pot with the breast side down. Turn in more than enough water to cover them. When stewed nearly tender, put in a quarter of a pound of butter to every dozen of pigeons — mix two or three teaspoonsful of flour with a little water, and stir into the gravy. If you wish to brown them, put on a heated bake-pan lid, an hour before they are done, or else take them up when tender, and fry them in pork fat. They are very good split open and stewed, with a dressing made ana warmed up separately with a little of the gravy. Ten- der pigeons are good stuifed and roasted. It takes about two hours to cook tender pigeons, and three hours tough ones. Roast pigeons should be buttered when put to the tire. DuCKs — Are good stewed like pigeons, or roasted. Two or three onions in the dressing of wild ducks takes out thelishy taste they are apt to have. If ducks or any other fowls are slightly injured by being kept long, dip them in weak salaratus water before cooking them. Baked or Roast Pig. — A pig for roasting or baking should be small and fiit. Take out the inwards, and cut off the first joint of the feet, and then boil them till tender, then chop them. Prepare « dressing of bread soaked soft, the water squeezed out and the bread mashed fine ; season it with salt, pepper, and swi.t herbs, add a little butter, and fill the pig with the dressing. Rub a little butter on the outside of the pig, to prevent its blistering. Bake or roast it from two hours and a half to three hours. The pan that the pig is baked in should have a little water put in it. When cooked, take out a little of the dressing and gravy from the pan, mix it with the chopped inwards and feet, put in a littk butter, pejjper, and salt, and use this for a sauce to the pig. Expose the pig to the open air two or three minutes before it is put on the table, to make it crispy. SwEETBRiiAD, LiVER, AND Heart. — A Very good way to cook the sweet- bread, is to fry tliree or four slices of pork till brown, then take them up and put in the sweetbi-ead, and fry it over a moderate fire. When you have taken up the sweetbread, mix a couple of teaspoonsful of flour with a little water, and stir it into the fat — let it boil, then turn it over the sweetbread. Another way is to parboil them, and let them get cold, then cut them in pieces about an inch thick, dip them in the yolk of an egg and fine oread crumbs, sprinkle salt, pe^.per, and sage on them before dipping them in the agg ; fry them a light brown. Make a gravy after you have taken them up, by stirring a little flour and water mixed smooth in the V t, V; lUiUlAi ilf<^mk'. INSTRUCTIOXS FOR COOKING. 155 fat, and spices and wine if you like. The liver and heart are good cooked in the same manner, or broiled. Tripe — After being scoured, should be soaked in salt and water seven or eight days, changing the water every other day, then boil it till tender, which will take eight or ten hours. It is then fit for broiling, frying, or pickling. It is pickled in the same manner as souse. Sausages. — Chop fresh pork very fine, the lean and fat together (there should be rather more of the lean than the fat), season it highly with salt^ pepper, sage, and other sweet herbs, if you like them — a little saltpetre tends to preserve them. To tell whether they are seasoned enough, do up a little into a cake, and fry it. If not seasoned enough, add more season- ing, and fill your skins, which should be previously cleaned thoroughly. A little fiour mixed in with the meat tends to prevent the fat from running out when cooked. Sausage-meat is good done up in small cakes and fried. In summer, when fresh pork cannot be procured, very good sausage- cake.s may be made of raw beef, chopped fine with salt pork, and seasoned with pepper and sage. When sausages are fried, tliey should not be pricked, and they will cook nicer to have a little fat put in the frying-pan with them. They should be cooked slowly. If ou do not like them very fat, take them out of the pan when nearly done, h,»id finish cooking them on a gridiron. Bologna sausages are made of equal weight each of ham, veal, and pork, chopped very fine, seasoned high, and boiled in casings till ten- der, then dried. Ham. — A ham that weighs ten pounds should be boiled four or five hours ; if very salt, the water should be changed. Before it is jiut on the table take, oft' the rind. If you wish to ornament it, put whole cloves, or p pper, in the form of diamonds, over it. The Virginia method of curing lams (which is considered very superior), is to dissolve two ounces of salt- petre, t'/o teaspoonsfu) of saleratus, in a salt pickle, as strong as possible, for every sixteen pounds of ham. Add molasses in the proportion of a gallon to a hogshead of brine, then put in the hams and let them remain three or four weeks. Then take them out of the brine, and smoke them with the hocks downward, to preserve the juices. They will smoke toler- ably well in the course of a month, but they will be much better to remain in the smoke-house two or three months. Hams cured in this manner are very fine flavoured, and will keep good a longtime. Tongues. — Cut off the roots of the tongues; they are not good smoked, but they make nice pies. Take out the pipes and veins, boil them till tender, mince them fine, season the meat with salt, cloves, mace, and cin- namon, put in a little sugar and molasses, moisten the whole with brandy. ^: iM' . ■'«! 156 THE HOME. FAllM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. put in a cool place, and it will keep good several months in cold weather, and it is good to make pies of at any time, with the addition of apples -chopped fine, and a little butter melted. For the remainder of the tongues, make a brine in the following manner — to a gallon of cold water put a quart of rock salt, an ounce of saltpetre, quarter of a pound of sugar, and couple of teaspoonfuls of blown salt. Put in the tongues, let them remain in it a week, and then smoke them eight or ten days. Chicken Pie. — Joint the chickens, which should be young and tender. Boil them in just sufficient water to cover them. When nearl}'- tender t'lke them out of the liquor, and lay them in a deep pudding-dish, lined with pie-crust. To each layer of chicken, put three or four slices of pork, add a little of the liquor in which they wore boiled, and a couple of ounces of butter cut into small pieces — .sprinkle a little flour over the whole, cover it with nice pie crust, and ornament the top with some of your pas- try. Bake it in a quick oven one hour. Beef and Mutton Pie, — Take tender meat, pound it out thin, and broil it ten minutes — then cut off the bony and gristly parts, season it highly with salt and pepper, butter it, and cut it into small pieces. Line a pud- ding dish with pastry, put in the meat, and to each layer add a teaspoon- ful of tomato ketchup, together with a tablespoonful of water — sprinkle over flour, and cover it with pie crust, and ornament as you please with pastry. Cold roast or boiled beef and mutton make a good pie, by cutting them into bits, and seasoning them highly with salt and pepper. Put them into a pie dish, turn a little melted butter over them, or gravy, and pour in water till you can just see it at the top. Chicken and Veal Pot Pie. — If the pie is to be made of chickens, joint them — boil the meat until about half done. Take the meat out of the liquor in which it was boiled, and put it in a pot, with a layer of crust to each layer of meat, having a layer of crust on the top. The meat should be seasoned with salt and pepper — cover the whole with the boiled meat liquor If you wnsh to have the crust brown, keep the pot covered with a heated bake pan lid. Keep a tea kettle of boiling water to turn in as the water boils away — cold water makes the crust heavy. The crust for the pie is good like that made for fruit pies, with less shortening, but raised pie crust is generally preferred to any other. It is made in the fol- lowing manner — mix togetner three })ints of flour, a teacupful of melted butter, a teaspoonful of salt, then turn in half a teacupful of yeast — add cold water to make it sufficiently stift' to roll out. Set it in a warm place to rise, which will take seven or eight hours, unless brewers' yeast is used. When risen, roll it out and cut it into small cakes. Potato pie crust is iiiij m.-*'- INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 157 * very nice. To make it, boil eight or nine small potatoes, peel and masl) tiiem fine, mix with them a piece of butter, of the size of a hen's egg, a teaspoonful of salt, a tumblerful of milk and flour to render it of the right consistency to roll out. When rolled out, cut them into cakes, and put them with the meat. If you happen to have unbaked wheat dough, very good crust may be made of it, by working into it a little lukewarm melted butter. Let it remain, after you have rolled and cut it into cakes, about ten or fifteen minutes, before putting it with the meat. Warmed-over Meats. — Boiled or roasted veal makes a nice dish, chop- ped fine, and warmed up, with just sufilcient water to moisten it, and a little butter, salt, and pepper added, A little nutmeg and the grated rind of a lemon improve it — none of the white part of the lemon should be used. When well heated through, take it up on a platter, and garnish it with a couple of lemons cut in slices. Fresh or corned beef is good minced fine, with boiled potatoes, and warmed up with salt, pepper, and a iittle wate/ — add butter, just before you take it up. Some people use the gravy that they have left the day before, for the meat, but it is not as good when warmed over, and there is no need of its being wasted, as it can be clarified, and used for other purposes. Boiled onions, or turnips, are good mixed with mince-meat, instead of potatoes. Veal, lamb, and mutton are good cut into small strips, and warmed with boiled potatoes cut in slices, pepper, salt, a little water — add butter just before you take it up. Roast beef and mutton, if not previously cooked too much, are nice cut in slices, and just scorched on a gridiron. Meat, when warmed over, should be on the fire just long enough to get well heated through — if on the'fire long, most of the juices of the meat vill be extracted, and render it very indigestible. Cold fowls are nice jointed, and warmed with a little water, then taken up and fried in butter till brown. A little flour should be sprinkled on them before frying. TJiicken the water that the fowls were warmed in — add a little salt, pepper, and butter, and turn it over the fowls. Drawn Butter— Mix two or three teaspoonsful of flour with a little cold v.'^ater — stir it till free from lumps, thin it, and stii- it into half a pint ol boiling water — let it boil two or three minutes, then cut up about a tjuarter of a pound of butter into small pieces, and put it with the flour and water — set it where it will melt ,radually. If carefully mixed, it will be free from lumps — if not, strain it before it is put on the table. If the butter is to be eaten on fish, cut up several soft boiled eggs into it, A little curry powder sprinkled into it, M'ill convert it into curry sauce. iPi jjJ r|!jU m 'f'SJ' ^'li 158 'J'HK HOMK, FAIIM AXD BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Burnt Butter. — Put a couple of ounces of butter into a frying pan — set it on a fire — when of a dark Ijrown colour, put in half a teaoupful of vinegar, a little pepper and salt. This is nice for fish, salad, or eggs. Roast Meat Gravy. — Meat, when put down to roast, should have about a pint of water in the dripping-pan. A little while before the meat is done, stir up the drippings, put it in a skillet, and set it where it will boil. Mix two or three teaspoonfuls of flour smoothly with a little water, and stir it in the gravy when it boils. Lamb and veil require a little butter in the gravy. The gravy for i)ork and geese should have a little of the dressing and sage mixed with it. If you wush to have your gravies look dark, scorch the flour that you thicken them with, which is easily done by putting it in a pan, setting it on a few coals, and stirring it constantly till it is a dark brown colour, taking care that it does not burn. Enough can be burnt at once to last a long time. Sauce for Cold Meat, Fish, or Salad, — Boil a couple of eggs three minutes ; then mix it with a mustard-spoonful of made mustard, a little salt, pepper, half a tea-cup of salad oil or melted butter, and half a tea-cup of vinegar. A table-spoonful of ketchup improves it. Wine Sauce for Venison or Mutton. — Warm half a pint of the drip- ])ings or liquor the meat was boiled in ; mix a couple of teaspoonsful of scorciied flour with a little water, and stir it in when the gravy boils. ♦Season it with salt, pepper, and cloves ; stir a tal)lespoonful of currant jelly in, and, just before you take it from the fire, half a tumbler of wine. Many people prefer melted currant jelly to any other sauce for venison or mutton. Oyster Sauce. — Take the juice of tho oysters, and to a pint put a couple of sticks of mace, a little salt and peppei*. Set it on the fire , when it boils, stir in a couple of teaspoonsful of fiour, mixed with milk. When it has boiled several minutes, stir in half a pint of oysters, a piece of but- ter of the size of a hen's egg. Let them scald through, then take them uj). White Celery Sauce for Boiled Poultry. — Take five or six heads of celery, cut oft' the green tops, cut up the remainder into small bits, and boil ii. tender in half a pint of water ; mix two or three tea,spoonfuls of flour smoothly with a little milk ; then add half a teacup more of milk, stir it in, add a small lump of butter and a little salt. When it boils take it up. Brown Sauce for Pouitry. — Peel two or three onions, cut them in elices, flour and fry them brown in a little butter ; then sprinkle in a little flour, pepper, salt, and sage ; add half a pint of the liquor the poultry was boiled i| wineglal SavoI you havl should U sweet hel strain itj the jelly, the whit([ and lemol til) clear Chickf and a hal. make the then take tablespoon egar, a tea and essenc Apple a tart, stew stewed soft mgav. An paring then to half the will keep g( addition of more is nee( and molasse •Strain if yo Pudding ''^ugar, then water, or ess INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 159 boiled in, and a tablespoonful of ketchup. Let it boil ; then stir in half a wineglass of wine if you like. Savoury Jelly for Cold Meat. — Boil lean beef or veal till tender. If you have any beef or veal bones, crack and boil them with the meat (they should be boiled longer than tlie meat,) together with a little salt pork, sweet herbs, and pepper and salt. When boiled sufficiently, take it off, strain it, and let remain till the next day ; then skim off che fat, take uj) the jelly, and scrape off the dregs that adhere to the bottom of it ; put in the whites and shells of several eggs, several blades of mace, a little wine and lemon juice ; set it on the fire, stir it well till it boils, then strain it til) clear through a jelly bag. Chicken Salad. — Boil a chicken that weighs not more than a pound and a half. When very tender take it up, cut it in small strips, and niake the following sauce, and turn over it : Boil four eggs three minutes ; then take them out of the shells, mash and mix them with a couple of tablespoonsful of olive oil or melted butter, two-thirds of a tumbler of vin egar, a teaspoonful of mixed mustard, a teaspoonf ul of salt, a little pepper, and essence of celery if you have it — if not, it can be dispensed with. Apple and Cranberry Sauce. — Pare and quarter the apples — if not tart, stew them in cider — if tart enou^rh, .stew them in water. When stewed soft, put in a small piece of butter, and sweeten it to the taste with sugar. Another way, which is very good, is to boil the apples, without piiring them, with a few quinces and molasses, in new cider, till reduced to half the quantity. When cool, strain the sauce. This kind of sauce will keep good several months. It makes very good plain pies, with the addition of a little cinnamon or cloves. To make cranberry sauce nothing more is necessary than to stew the cranberries till soft, then stir in sugar and molasses to sweeten it. Let the sugar scald in it a lev/ minutes. tStiain if you like— it is very good without straining. Pudding Sauce. — Stir to a cream a teacup of butter, with two of brown sugar, then add a wineglass of wine or cider ; flavour it with nutmeg, rose- water, or essence of lemon. If you wish to have it liquid, heat two-thirds of a pint of water, boiling hot, mix two or three teaspoonsful of flour with a little water and stir it into the boiling water. As soon as it boils up well, stir it into the butter and sugar. Mushroom Ketchup. — Put a layer of fresh mushrooms in a deep dish, .sprinkle a little salt over them, then put in another layer of fresh musii- ronius and salt, and so on till you get in all the mushrooms. Lot them remain several days ; then mash them fine, and to oach quart put a table- -'poonful of vinegar, half a teaspoonful of black pepper, and a quarter of a IGO THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. teaspoonful of cloves ; turn it into a stone jar, set the jar in a pot of boil- ing water and let it boil two houis, then strain it without sc^ueezing the mushrooms. Boil the juice a quarter of a»^ hour, skim it well, let itstaml a few hours to settle, then strain it off carefully through a sieve, bottle and cork it tight. Keep it in a cool place. Walnut Ketchup. — Procure the walnuts by the la^b of June ; keep them in salt and water for a week, then bruise them, and turn boiling vinegar on them. Let them remain covered with vinegar for several <^lays, sMrring up each day ; then boil them a quarter of an hour with a little more vinegar, strain them through a thick cloth, so that none of the course par- ticles of the walnuts will go through ; season the vinegi^r highly with cloves, allspice, pepper and salt. Boil the wdiole a few minutes, then bot- tle and cork it tight. Keep it in a cool place. Plain Veal Soup. — A leg of veil, after enough has been cut oti for cut- lets, makes a soup nearly as good as calf's head. Boil it with a cup two- thirds full of rice, and a pound and a half of pork; season it with salt, pepper, and sweet herbs, if you like. A little celery boiled in it gives the soup a fine flavour. Some people like onions, carrots, and parsley boiled in it. If you wish for balls in the soup, chop veal and a little raw salt pork fine ; mix it with a few bread crumbs and a couple of eggs. Season it with salt and pepper ; add a little curry powder if you like — do it up into small balls and boil them in the soup. The veal should be taken up before the soup is seasoned. Just before the soup is taken up, put in a couple cf slices of toast, cut into small pieces. If you do not like your soup fat, let the liquor remain till the day after you have boiled the meat, and skim off the fat before heating the liquor. The shoulder of veal makes a good soup. Mock Turtle, or Calf's Head Soup. — Boil the head until perfectly tender, then take it out, strain the liquor, and set it away until the next day, then skim off the fat, cut up the meat, together with the lights, and put it into the liquor, put it on the fire, and season it with salt, pepjier, cloves, and mace, add onions and sweet herbs if you like : stew it gently for half an hoiu'. Just before you take it up, add half a pint of white wine. For the balls chop lean veal fine, with a little salt pork, add the brains, and season it with salt, pepper, cloves, mace, sweet herbs or curry powder, make it up into balls about the size of half an egg, boil part in the soup, and fry the remainder, and put them in a dish by themselves. Beef or Black Soup, — The shank of beef is the best part for soup- cold roast beef bones and beef steak make very good soup. Boil the shank four or five hours in water enouijh to cover it. Half an hour before the ai soup is I flour mi> little wa spirit if 2 very disa in a dish pork, sea the soup CnrcKi! boiled in liquor ren off the fat the meat, potatoes little celerj in the souf Oyster i tiie liquor | Mix a heap the liquor a nufc or butt( substituted, up again on Pea Soup in a warm p the next mo: ^aleratus eig] soaking in, pi it till the pea Green peas fc have the por] hour. Omelet.—] ounces of fine: add a little sa with the eggs- butter on th^e heaten to a frc under side, it i uioderate fire, . K ■v^iKJ*-* INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 161 soup is put on the table, take up the meat, thicken the soup with scorched flour mixed with cold water, season it with salt, pepper, cloves, mace, a little walnut or tomato ketchup improves it, put in sweet herbs or herb spirit if you like. Some cooks boil onions in the soup, but as they are very disagreeable to many persons, it is better to boil and serve them up in a dish by themselves. Make force meat balls of part of the beef and pork, season them with mace, cloves, pepper and salt, and boil them in the soup fifteen minutes. Chicken or Turkey Soup. — The liquor that a turkey or chicken is boiled in makes a good soup. If you do not like your soup fat, let the liquor remain till the day after the poultry has been boiled in it, then skim otl'the fat, set it where it will boil. If there was not any rice boiled with the meat, put in half a teacupful when the liquor boils, or slice up a few potatoes and put in — season it with salt and pepper, and sweet herbs, a little celery boiled in it improves it. Toast bread or crackers, and put them in the soup when you take it up. Oyster Soui . — Separate the oysters from the liquor, to each quart of the liquor put a pint of milk or water, set it on the fire with the oysters. Mix a heaping tablespoonf ul of flour with a little water, and stir it into the liquor as soon as it boils. Season it with salt, pepper, and a little wal- nut or butternut vinegar, if you have i* if not, common vinegar may be substituted. Put in a small lump of butter, and turn it as soon as it boils up again on to buttered toast cut into small pieces. Pea Soup. — If you malce your soup of dry peas, soak them over night, in a warm place, using a quart of water to each (piart of the peas. Early the next morning boil them an hour. Boil with them a teaspoonful of saleratus eight or ten minutes, then take them out of the water they were soaking in, put them into fresh water, with a pound of salt pork, and boil it till the peas are soft, which will be in the course of three or four hours. Green peas for soup require no soaking, and boiling only long enough to have the pork gef thoroughly cooked, which will be in the course of an hour. Omelet. — Beat the eggs to a froth, and to a dozen of eggs put three ounces of finely minced boiled ham, beef, or veal ; if the latter meat is used add a little salt. Melt a quarter of a pound of butter, mix a little of it with the eggs — it should be just lukewarm. Set the remainder of the butter on the fire, in a frying or tin pan, when quite hot, turn in the eggs beaten to a froth, stir them until they begin to set. When brown- on the under side, it is suliftciently cooked. The omelet should be cooked on a moderate fire, and in a pan small enough to have the omelet an inch thick, K V 162 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. When you take them up, lay a flat dish on them, then turn thepa-n upside down. Poached Eggs. — Break the eggs into a pan, beat them to a froth, then put them into a buttered tin pan, set the pan on a few coals, put in a small lump of butter, a little salt, let them cook very slowly, stirring them con- stantly till they become (juite thick, then turn them on to buttered toast. Broiling, Boiling and Frying Fish. — Fish for boiling or broiling are the best tiie day after they are caught. They should be cleaned when first caught, wa.shed in cold water, and half a teacup of salt sprinkled on the inside of them. Tf they are to be broiled, sprinkle pepper on the inside of them — keep them in a cool place. When fish is broiled, the bars of the gridiron should be rubbed over with a little butter, and the inside of the fish put toward the fire, and not turned till the fi.sh is nearly cooked through, then butter the skin side and turn it over ; fish should be broiled slowly. When fresh fish is to be boiled, it should either be laid on a fish strainer, or sewed up in a cloth, if not, it is very difficult to take it out of the pot without breaking. Put the fish into cold water with the back bone dovv'n. To eight or ten pounds of fish, put half of a small teacup of salt. Boil the fish until you can 'draw out one of the fins easily — most kinds of fish will boil sufficiently in the course of twenty or thirty min- utes ; some kinds will boil in less time. Some cooks do not put their fish into water till it boils, but it is not a good plan, as the outside gets cooked too much, and breaks to pieces before the inside is sufficiently done. Fish for frying, after being cleaned and washed, should be put into a cloth to have it absorb the moisture. They should be dried perfectly and a little flour rubbed over them. No salt should be put on them, if you wish to have them brown well. For five or six pounds of fish, fry three or four slices of salt pork ; when brown, take them up and if they do not make fat sufiicient to fry the fish in, add a little lard. When the fish are fried enough, take them up ; for good plain gravy, mix two or three teaspoons- ful of flour Avith a little water, and stir it into the fat -the fibh was fried in, put in a little butter, pepper, and salt, if you wish to have the gravy lich add spices, ketchup, and wine, turn the gravy over the fish. Boiled fi.'-h should be served up with drawn butter, or liver sauce. Fish, when put on the platter, should not be laid over each other if it can be avoided, as the steam from the under ones make those on the top so moist that they will break to pieces when served out. Great care and punctuality are necessary in cooking fish. If not done sufficiently, or if done too much, they are not good. They should be eaten as soon boiled C'liov fish intf sprinkK you like soaked s then tui- li put a t lay in the shad, are si Flsh Ca] witli potatc 'lone up int fot or butte Fish For gether with bread crumt ketchup if y Clams. — '\ vent the she] open— take t: liquor, a litth 't in the clam f'or chMii pani some cooks us as the milk. —they are go( or stewed, and taken out of t .•iCS'^HSBBS- INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 1G3 as soon as cooked. For a garnish to the fish, use par.sley, a lemon, or eggs boiled hard, and cut in slices. Chowder. — Fry three or four slices of pork till brown, cut each of your fish into five or six slices, flour, and put a layer of them into your pork fat, sprinkle on pepper and a little salt — add cloves, mace, and sliced onions if you like — lay on several bits of your fried pork, and crackers previously soaked soft in cold water. This process repeat till you get in all the fish, then turn on water enou<^h to just cover them — put on a heated bake pan lid. When the fish have stewed about twenty minutes, take them up and mix a couple of teaspoonsful of flour with a little water, and stir it into the gravy, also a littlu butter and pepper. Half a pint of white wine, spices, and ketchup, will improve it. Bass and cod make the best chowder, black fish and clams make tolerably good ones. The hard part of the clams should be cut off and thrown away. Stuffed and Baked Fish. — Soak bread in cold water till soft, drain off the water, mash the bread fine, mix it with a tablespoonf ul of melted but- ter, a little pepper and salt — a couple of raw eggs makes the dressing cut smoother — add pices if you like. Fill the fish with the dressing, sew it up, put a teacup of water in your bake pan, and a small piece of butter, lay in the fish, bake it from forty to fifty minutes. Fresh cod, bass, and shad, are suitable fish for baking. Fish Cakes. — Cold boiled fresh fish, or salt codfish, is nice m.nced fine, with potatoes, moistened with a little water, and a little butter put in (lone up into cakes the size of common biscuit, and fried brown in pork fo.t or butter. Fish Fohue-Meat Balls. — Take a little uncooked fish, chop it fine, to- gether with a little raw salt pork ; mix it with one or two raw eggs, a few bread crumbs and season the whole with pepper and spices. Add a little ketchup if you like, do them up into small balls, and fry them till brown. Clams. — Wash and put them in a pot, with just water enough to pre- vent the shells burning at the bottom of the pot. Heat them till the shells open — take the clams out of them, and warm them with a little of the clam liquor, a little salt, butter, and pepper. Toast a slice or two of bread, soak it in the clam liquor, lay it in a deep dish, and turn the Ciams on to it. For cl?,m pancakes, mix flour and milk together to form a thick battel' — some cooks use the clam liquor, but it does not make the pancakes as light as the milk. To each pint of the milk put a couple of eggs and a few clams ■—they are good taken out of the shells without stewing, and chopped fine, or stewed, and put into the cakes whole. Very large long clams are good taken out of the shells without stewing, and broiled. 164 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDTA. Stewed Oysters. — Strain the oyster liquor, rinse tlie bits of shells off the oysters, then turn the liquor back on to the oysters, and put them in a stew-pan — set them where they will boil up, then turn them on to but- tered toast — salt, pepper, and butter them to your taste. Some cooks add a little walnut ketshup, or vinegar. The oysters should not be cooked until just before they are to be eaten. To Fry Oysters. — Take those that are large, dip them in beaten eggs, and then in flour or fine bread crumbs — fry them in Ir-d, till of a light brown. They are a nice gainish for fish. They will keep good for several months if fried when first caught, salted and peppered, then put into a bottle, and corked tight. Whenever they are to be eaten, warm them in a little water. Oyster Pancakes. — Mix equal quantities of milk and oyster juice to- gether. To a pint of the li(pior when mixed, put a pint of wheat fiour, a few oysters, a couple of eggs, and a little salt. Drop by the large spoonful into hot lard. Oyster Pie. — Line a deep pie-plate with pie cru.st ; fill it with dry pieces of bread, cover it over with pufi* paste ; bake it till a light brown, either in a quick oven or bake pan. Have the oysters j ust stewed by the time the crust is done ; take off' the upper crust, remove the pieces of bread, put in the oj^sters, season them with salt, pepper, and butter. A little walnut ketchup improves the pie, but is not essential — cover it with the crust. Scalloped Oysters. — Pound rusked bread or crackers fine ; butter scallop shells or tins, sprinkle on the bread crumbs, then put in a layer of oysters, a small lump of butter, pepper, salt, and a little of the oyster juice; then put on another layer of crumbs and oysters,, and so on till the shells are filled, having a layer of crunibs at the top. Bake them till a light brown. Directions ior Pickling. — Vinegar for pickling should be good, but not of the sharpest kind. Brass utensils should be used for pickling. They should be thoroughly cleaned before ".sing, and no vinegar should be allow- ed to cool in them, as the rust formed by so doing is very poisonous. Boil alum and salt in the vinegar, in the proportion of half a teacup of salt, and a tablespoonf ul of alum, to three gallons of vinegar. Stone and wooden vessels are the only kind of utensils that are good to keep pickles in. Vessels that have had any grease in will not do for pickles, as no washing will kill the grease that the pot has absorbed. All kinds of pickles should be stirred up occasionally. If there are any soft ones among them, they should be taken out, the vinegar scalded, and turned back while hot — if very weak, throw it away and use fresh vinegar. Whenever any scum I'ise.s, til pickles itself, ai eaten. Whe.\ of boilin oughly ii dough is family y^ Ijlespoonf ft'om lum it over wi ascertain of small h ''0 baked { I'eady to b to the aci( work in w slash it on tered tin pj l»ofore baki in the oven ter bread tc till cool befi kills the lif( toi' it, and v as good as t: tlie yeast in rising. Moa ^••0 should b tlie weather : J>est for heat perature, whi of a minute, i "linutes befoi ^loes not bak( Spoxgje Bb flour and the bet it remain cup of distille INSTRUCTIONS FOR COOKING. 165 rises, the vinegar needs scalding. If you do not wisli to have all your l)ickles spiced, it is a good plan to keep a stone pot of spiced vinegar by itself, and put in a few of your pickles a short time before they are to be eaten. Wheat Bread, — For six common sized loaves of bread, take three pints of boiling water, and mix it with five or six quarts of flour. When thor- oughly mixed, add three pints of cold water. Stir it till the whole of the dough is of the same temperature. When lukewarm, stir in half a pint of taniily yeast (if brewer's yeast is used, a less quantity will answer), a ta- blespoonful of salt, knead in Hour till stiff enough to mould up, and free from lumps. The more the bread is kneaded, the better it will be. Cover it over with a tlr.ck cloth, and if the weather is cold, set it near a fire. To ascertain when it has risen, cut it through the middle with a knife — if full of small holes like a sponge, it is sufficiently light for baking. It should lie baked as soon as light. If your bz-ad should get sour before you are ready to bake it, dissolve two or more teaspoonsf ul of saleratus (according to the acidity of it) in a teacup of milk or water, sti-ain it on to the dough, work in well — then cut off enough for a loaf of bread, mould it up well, slash it on both sides to prevent its cracking when baked, put it in a but- tered tin pan. The bread should stand ten or twelve rninutes in the pan liefore baking it. If you like your bread baked a good deal, lot it stand in the oven an hour and a half When the wheat is grown, it makes bet- ter bread to wet the flour entirely with boiling water. It should remain till cool before working in the yeast. Some cooks have an idea that it kills the life of the flour to scald it, but it is a mistaken idea, — it is sweeter for it, and will keep good much longer. Bread made in this way is nearly as good as that which is wet with milk. Care must be taken not to put the yeast in when the dough is hot, as it will scald it, and prevent its rising. Most ovens require heating an hour and a half for bread. A brisk firo should be kept up, and the doors of the room should be kept shut if the weather is cold. Pine and ash, mixed together, or birch wood, is the hest for heating an oven. To ascertain if your oven is of the right tem- perature, when cleaned, throw in a little flour ; if it browns in the course of a minute, it is sufficiently hot ; if it turns black directly, wait several minutes before putting in the things that are to be baked. If the oven does not bake well, set in a furnace of live coals. SroNv^E BiiFAD. — For four loaves of bread, take three quarts of wheat flour and the same quantity of boiling water; mix them well together. bet it remain till lukewarm, then add a teacupf ul of family, or half a tea- cup of distillery yeast. Set it in a warm place to rise. When light, knead ^. %- ^' r.% ,0. vO^V^%^"- ex IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) LO I.I 1.25 t^m 1 22 I" li£ 12.0 LA. Illll 1.6 V] <^ /}. % e^ ^/ o 7 M y> % *% n>^ 16G THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. in flour till stiff enough to mould up, then let it stand till risen again, be- fore moulding it up. Rye Bread. — Wet up rye flour with lukewarm milk (water will do to wet it up with, but it will not make the bread so good). Put in the same })roportion of yeast as for wheat bread. For four or five loaves of bread, put in a couple of teaspoonsful of salt. A couple of tablespoonsful of melted butter makes the crust more tender. It should not be kneaded as stifi*as wheat bread, or it will be hard when baked. When light, take it out into pans without moulding it up ; let it remain in them about twenty minutes before baking. Brown Bread. — Brown bread is made by scalding Indian meal, and stirring into it, when lukewarm, about the same quantity of rye flour as Indian meal ; add yeast and salt in the same proportion as for other kinds of bread. Bake it between two and three houi-s. Indian Brea.d. — Mix Indian meal with cold water, stir it into boilinfj water, let it boil half an hour ; stir in a little salt, take it from the fire, let it remain till lukewarm, then stir in yeast and Indian meal to render it of the consistency of unbaked rye dough. When light, take it out into buttered pans, let it remain a few minutes, then bake it two hours and a half. Potato Bread. — Boil the potatoes very soft, then peel and ma?h them fine. Put in salt and a very little butter ; then rub them with the floui- ; wet the flour with lukewarm water, then work in the yeast and fjour till stiff to mould up. It will rise quicker than common wheat bread, and should be baked as soon as risen, as it turns sour very soon. The potatoes that the bread is made of should be mealy, and mixed with the flour in the proportion of one-third of potatoes to two- thirds of flour. Rice Bread. — Boil a pint of rice till soft ; then mix it with a couple of quarts of rice or wheat flour. When cool, add half a teacup of yeast, a little salt, and milk to render it of the consistency of rye bread. When light bake it in small buttered pans. FRENcg Rolls. — Turn a quart of lukewarm milk on to a quart of flour. Melt a cou[)le of ounces of butter, and put to the milk and flour, together with a couple of eggs, and a teaspoonful of salt. When cool, stir in half a teacup of yeast, and flour to make it stiff" enuugh to mould up. Put it in a warm place. When light do it up into small rolls ; lay the rolls on flat buttered tins ; let them remain twenty minutes before baking. Butter Biscuit. — Melt a teacup of butter, mix it with two thirds of a pint of milk (if you have not any milk, water may be substituted, but the biscuit will not be as nice). Put in a teaspoonful of salt, half a H^a- cup of y flour till biscuit, 1 risen, m( tins that are hake Butte a teacup teaspoons it up intc Hard : and a hal of teasjK)c rolling-pii and poun( tinue to ri cut it intc them wit! own. Potato To four O W 'tI hlV. llpl Mat. tln'ir lid P'TH .slio <»ri(( slow I)i■ "tu. REOOBDS M.ui.l S ^'- •'iilitjii liiiriiH '•<'l''Hiiiith Maid .'.' ''''iiikut .. I, 1 I '''I'll ... '"'"'ii^kJoi- "'■'tt,., VV<.o,]wttrd i'ltrliy •^ " • ■ . , ^"K'Woaii (Jirl '''-''-•iiloii*, ';''"»-l"y Ford. ..v.", ''li>8tor i>uxtor •"ioNo.. OF TKOTTINO HOESES -Moi OF 2.19 AI^D UNDER. ... L'Jli .. 2.j;{.j -. 2.14 •• 2.J4 .. 2.14.^ .. 2.15 .. 2.15,/ . 2.lf,.i .. 2.J«i[ • -•";.! • 2.J(ii . 2.Jji^ 2. J (J/ 2.17 2.17.J '*i«diiio?i(,.., '''ick SwivoJor ....'. Kato .SjiraKUi) lt..hort Mac(;rogor Udy TJi„n>o .'_' liady Maude.... Mi'liiif,'lit Alboiiiarlo •• 2.17] ••• 2.17.^ ■■• 2.17^" ... 2.17J' •. 2.IH . 2.1H ■•■ 2.1H •■ 2.18 - 2.1H .. 2.18 • 2.J8 • 2.18 ■ 2.J8 . 2.18] 2.18^ 2.18] 2.J!> wmm |Ciicro9$c, anil ^joId to fllaij It. 'HE game of Lacrosse has, perhaps, attracted more attention amongst young men than any other field sport that has ever been introduced to their notice. That this game, comparatively unknown until with.in the past few years, should have so suddenly become pop- ular, seems almost a wonder. If ever anv game has been persecuted, abused, or belied by envious rivals, that gaiiu" has certainly been Lacrosse ; and yet, in spite of all oppo- sition and ridicule it has received from the adherents of older established sports — in spite of its being declared unscientific, and not at all gentlemanly, by those whose notions were rather prudish — this game has, on account of its own intrinsic merits, not only been adopted by YovM(j Canada, as the National Game of the Dominion, but has also won its way high into the favour of athletics, both in England and the United States. It is affirmed by its opponents that there is no science in the game, it is all hard work, and is injurious to the constitution. A good player seldom hurts himself; it is only the novice who does the hard work, and gets no return for it. Lacrosse is yet in its infancy; the fine points in the game are only now becoming apparent. But the day will come when the pub lie verdict on it, even as a scientific game, will be materially changed, fuul its opponents he obliged to confess that, measured only by their scientific standards, it will take its place as king of out-door sports. Lacrosse has so many advantages over other games that, perhaps, it will not be out of place to mention a few of them. It is the cheapest of all games. It recpiires no pads, gauntlets, or other expensive equipments. A single lacrosse stick, and simple running gear is all that is required for action. It developes the muscles better than any sport we know of The muscular action is confined to no particular part, as in rowing, skating, or football — it exercises equally the arms, legs and body, and at the same time there is sufficient excitement about it to make it the most fascinat- i.-g of games. It develops self-reliance, and awakens the energies of all ■who would excel in it. It is conducive to temperance and sobriety, for no you] does no or othei at tlmt J to excel 'icidtlifu. mind. The FTC '■»nd was u! ■school in ^^ young war of the war developmen ol'jt'ct of til TJie orirrij '^'■nwl ; each ^'hicJi was n As fur bac ofavory cli« ^''"■ppewas, ( an oblong hoc ^acs, Sioux, r °^''e'- tribes,' V of the origina oWong hoop w '•ound Iioops t^ net- work, but / ^^^tened in fo„ 'atch and hold '"^ (t'le sniaii , ^ards they we, ^'''^'' "«eally ,s, "ted Tot> ''""' '"^""- "'«' "■'■iter telb u, th! ° '"" '™''''"'-S and it 1/ ""' "*'"'<•■ a".i "'■i-' of their iU^;'"' "'"-■»-' -„,e „f th? it^ "° ^"P"-"* as an '■'- ""-.ina, g.,„., ,_.,, "^-^ " ''-»- ■- the chief '""^'""ffl.oop.atonTe^dit'''"'' ""'^ "''™' 'h^efet,' ?"■='"'-' *>»«, Sioux Gin--™, ^^ "^Se enough to hnl.l .k , '""& ''"nt into »"- fibos; w CC;t r'^'"' «'=^- Nation Putt f ^'""'^^ "^ "' - »^'»"« ho^;!^ :„t:;- over f„„T fo't"i"°?;:rf-'- ^"- *"'! lH.opa twelvc'nel^f ™ '"'='"''* '»"ff and t„- "''°''^ "^ "'o «-"o.k, hut the LTe '" "'■'=''"""onca 1 L f '^^ ' "'"' "^ ">o *'' and hold ilTu T,° ""J" ■■ ""'' I"'"' wo^e tffl ? ■=•"'''■« *'" »«* they wem , ^P''"^" tree used f,„. o^ynally of „,,, <^'-k». *', Tae^ r: "' <'-«kin. An It't^^f ^'-^ -"oe^J ; aft . " "■" P'ay with one "Ik rr ""'"• ^■-e wa "e^m .''T ' ^''^ '«'" «t>ck and two-,he fo„„er iT'f ""'''<' ''ifferenco 'y lar the most difficult i» I I 1 180 THE HOME, FARM AXD BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. The manner of picking up was peculiar, owing to its shape. As the ball lay on the ground, it was almost covered with the hoop, and by a pecu- liar twist of the wiist and arm from left to right, scooped up in one mo- tion. The ball was thrown from it b}- a jerk, and could not be pitched so far as witii the present stick, as it received but little impetus. The Indians dodged very little, except wdicn the ball was caught or picked up in a ci'owd, and dodging was necessary. This seems the more remarkable when we consider the shape of the stick, and the peculiar cilities for dodging afforded by the concavity of the netting, and the smallness of the hoop which retained the ball. The original Ball was about the size of a tennis ball thouirh differiii" among the tribes, and was first made of deerskin or rawhide, stuffed v/ith hair, and sewed with sinews. Some of the tribes used a heavy wooden ball — generally a knot — while others improvised balls of the bark of the pine-tree. The earliest Goal was any marked rock or tree that happened to be convenient. At grand matches, however, they were more particular, and used for each goal a single pole or stake, eight feet high and two inches in diameter, or two poles as at present. The distance between the gsiols varied in proportion to the number of players, from five hundred yards to a mile and a half and more. Where oidy one flag pole was used, it was counted game by merely putting the ball past the line of the pole although in some tribes the pole was required to be struck with the ball before it could be counted g.ime. The Umpires were generally the old medicine men of the tribe, whoso decision was in all cases final. The Dress of the players was generally as primitive as can be imagined — wearing only a light breech-cloth, and on grand occasions paintini: their faces and bodies, and decorating themselves with fantastic bead- work and feathers of various colours. Some tribes wore a curious kind of tail fastened to the small of the back, made of white horse-hair, or dyed porcupine quills, and a mane or neck of horse-hair dyed various colours. l^heir matches were not decided like ours by the winning of three games out of five, but sometimes lasted for days together. They were really trials of strength and endurance as well as of skill. Sectic witli cat raw-hide be iiat w exceed 01 tJie tip oi crosse. j but must than the e ^vithin tw( "leshes. Sec. 2. J stretch stri either witJi •**»ec. ,3. p , '^Jie Goal.s '"^n agreeable ''^ «ix feet ab '^^'^- In ma ^0 nttackin ""^ess tJie baJ] LAWS OF LACROSSE. 181 LAWS OF LACEOSSE. Bevised and adopted at the reorganization ofthi National Amateur Lacrosse Associa- tion of Canada, Toronto, ith May, 1876, and amended at Montreal, August 3>(', 1877, Toronto, June 7th, 1878, Montreal, June Qlh, 1879, Toronto, June \th, 1880, Montreal, June 3rd, 1881, Toronto, June Srd, l8S2,mnd Montreal, April nth, 1883. Rule I. — The Crosse. Section 1. Tlie Crosse may be of any length to suit the player; woven with cat-gut, which must not be bagged. ("Cat-gut" is intended to mean raw-hide, gut, or clock-string ; not cord or soft leather). The netting must be Hat when the ball is not on it. In its widest part the crosse shall not exceed one foot. A string must be brought through a hole at the side of the tip of the turn, to prevent the point of the stick catching an opponent's crosse. A leading-string resting upon the top of the stick may be used, but must not be fastened, so as to form a pocket, lower down the stick than the end of the length-strings. The length-strings must be woven to within two inches of their termination, so that the ball cannot catch in the meshes. Sec. 2. No kind of metal, either in wire or sheet, nor screws or nails, to stretch strings, shall be allowed upon the crosse. Splices nmst be made either with string or gut. Sec. 3. Players may change their crosses during a match. Rule II. — The Ball. The Ball must be India-rubber sponge, not less than eight, nor more than nine inches in circumference. In matches it must be furnished by the challenged partv. Rule III. — The Goals. The Goals must be at least 125 yards from each other, and in any posi- tion agreeable to the captains of both sides. The top of the flag-poles must be six feet above the ground, including any top ornament, and six feet apart. In matches they must be furnished by the challenged party. Rule IV. — The Goal Crease. No attacking player must be within six feet of either of the flag-poles, unless the ball has passed Cover-point's position on tlie field. 182 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. Rule V. — UMnuES. Section 1. There shall be one Umpire at each Goal. They shall be dis- interested parties, whose reputation for truthfulness and integrity are well known and above suspicion. They shall not be members of either club engaged in a match, nor shall they be changed during its progress without the consent of both Captains, Sec. 2. Their jurisdiction shall last during the match for which they are appointed. They shall not change goals during a match. Sec, 3. No Umpire shall, either directly or indirectly, be interested in any bet upon the result of the match. No person shall be allowed to speak to an Umpire, or in any way distract his attention, when the ball is near or nearing his goal. J^ec. 4. They shall stand behind the flags when the ball is near or near- ing their goal. In the event of game being claimed, the Umpire at that goal shall at once decide whether or not the ball has fairly passed through the flags, his decision simply being " game " or " no game," without com- ment of any kind. He shall not be allowed to express an opinion, and his decision shall in all cases be final, without appeal. Sec. 5. In the event of the Field Captains failing to agree upon the Umpires, after three nominations in accordance with this rule have been made by each party, it shall be the duty of the Referee to appoint one or more Umpires, as may be required, who shall not be one of the persons objected to, who must be duly qualified as required by this rule. In championship matches they shall be appointed the day previously. Sec. G. If, after the commencement of a match, it becomes apparent that either Umpire, on account of partizanship, bets on the match, or any other cause, is guilty of giving unjust decisions, the side offended against may enter a protest with the Referee against his conduct, and ask for his immediate removal. After hearing the evidence on both sides, the Referee .shall decide whether he shall be dismissed or continue in office. If dis- missed, the Referee shall at once appoint another Umpire to act in his stead. Any decision, however, which he may have given previous to his dismissal shall hold good. sign c J his app( thoroui: Rule VI. — Referee. Section 1. The Referee shall be selected by the Captains ; and in the case of " Championship " matches, must be appointed at least one day be- fore the match. When the Captains have agreed upon a Referee, they shall make a written memorandum in duplicate of the agreement,which shallbe LAWS OF LACKOSSE. 183 sii^ne J by both captains. His authorit} shall commence from the time of his appointment. No person shall l)e chosen to fill the position who is not thorout,'hly accpiainted with the game, and in every way competent to act. He must be a disinterested party, and neither directly nor indirectly in- terested in any bet upon the result of the match. In the event of the Field Captains failing to agree upon a Referee the day previous to a match, it shall be the duty of the President of the National Amateur Lacrosse As- sociation, or in his absence from the country, or owing to the impossibility ot'liis being communicated with, the Vice-President, upon being duly noti- fied, to appoint a Referee to act during the match ; such Referee, however, not to be one of the number proposed by either of the competing clubs. Sec. 2. Before the match begins, the Referee shall see that properly ijuaiitied Umpires are selected, as provided for in Rule Y. He shall also obtain from each of the Captains a declaration and list of their team, and shall satisfy himself that the players are hoiidjide members of the team they represent, in accordance with Sec. 1, Rule IX. All disputed points and matters of appeal that may arise during his continuance in ofHce siiiill be left to his decision, which, in all cases, must be iinal, without appeal. Sec. 3. Before the match begins, he shall draw the players up in lines, and see that the regulation respecting the ball, crosses, spiked soles, etc., are complied with. He shall also see that the regulations respecting the goals are adhered to. He shall know before the commencement of a match the number of games to be played, time for stopping, and any other arrangements that may have been made by the Captains. He shall have the power to suspend at any time during the match any player infringing these laws — the game to go on during such suspension. Sec. 4. When " foul " has been called by either Captain, the Referee shall immediately cry " time," after which the ball must not be touched by either part}', nor must the players move from the position in which they happen to be at the moment, until the Referee has called "play.'' If a player should be in possession of the ball when " time " is called, he must "Irop it on the ground. If the ball enters goal after " time " has been called, it shall not count. Sec. 5. The jurisdiction of the Referee shall not extend beyond the match for which he is appointed ; and he shall not decide in any matter involving the continuance of a match beyond the day on which it is I'layed. The Referee must be on the ground at the commencement of and during the match. At the commencement of each game, and after " touls " and " balls out of bounds," he shall see that the ball is properly 184 THE HOME. lAIlM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. faced, and, when both .sides are ready, shall call " play.' He shall not express an opinion until he has taken tlie evidence on both sides. After takinf^ the evidence, his decision, in all cases must bo final. Any side rejecting his decision, by refusing to cuntiinie the match, shall be declared losers. Sec. G. When game is claimed and disallowed, the Referee shall ordti the ball to be faced for, from where it is picked np ; but in no case must it be closer to the goals than ten (10) yards in any direction. Rule VII. — Captains. Captains to superintend the play shall be a]>pointed by each side pre- viously to the commencement of a match. They nhall be members of the club by whom they are appointed, and no other. They may or may not be players in the match ; if not, they shall not carry a crosse, nor shall they be dressed in Lacrosse uniform. They shall select Umpires and Referees, as laid down in these Rules, toss for choice of goals, and they alone shall bo entitled to call " foul " during a match. They shall report any infringement of the laws during a match to the Referee. (2) Before the commencement of a match, each Captain shall furnish the Referee with a full and correct list of his^twelve, and a declaration stating that they are all bona fide members in good standing of the club they represent, and of no other, as provided for in Sec. 1, Rule IX. Rule VIII. — Names of Players. The players on each-side shall be designated as follows : " Goal-koeper," who defends the goal ; " Point," first man out from goal ; " Cover-point," in front of Point ; " Centre," who faces • " Home," nearest opponent's goal ; others shall be termed " Fielders." THE GAME. Rule IX. — Miscellaneous. Section 1. Twelve players shall constitute a full field. They shall be regular members in good standing of the club they represent, and of no other, for at least thirty days before becoming eligible to play in a matcli for their club. No members shall be allowed to change clubs more tlian once during the season, except in bona fide change of residence. Sec. 2. The game must be started by the Referee facing the ball in the centre of the field between a player on each side. The ball shall be laid m HI mv upon t >icle.s a liave tl 'Sec. h've, un puttinir Sec. •j plajed( tiarknes and, if p Sec. 5 tliange o Sec. G. tJian ten, Sec. 7. viously ai Sec. 8. ' Sec. 0. "icnced, e: See. 10. to leave th teams. Jb the inj(jred lie decided See. 11. • >n the numl ^er, to equa 'iieut. ^0 player to evade thi.s The ball 111 and xiii. '^fae Goa]-k ^^ay with hi: body. 185 'IHK GAME. upon the ground between tl.P «r i . , ^^^ st::;r :-- -s r ~ irt ;"^'^- '' ^^ - - a, eic, 01 to be eonsidei-P I o i " "'^ event of rain '"-■od except fo; J„P '^r:Xt "^ ■"'•'"''' "'"'«'■ ^ ■'""^•'- >'- -n- •^™- 10. Should any plaver T °'' '"•'"'■>' <'"'"« the .-amr- teuri, ,„'"='''■ "'e opposite side shall l! ' ""<' compelled i"i up the comple- Rule X.-Spiked Soles. ^^0 player must wear ^nJt^ i , '^ -- -■' - -. - ":re,;^r;ro-h: f„tr ^"-"- .1.^"— e-.ed.ith the hand,.. i„ eases o.H,.le,.i Th G '^"^'^ ^"-Goal-keeper. and xiii. ISG TilK HOMK, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Rule XIII. — Ball in an Inaccessible Place. Should tlie hall lodge in any place inaccossihle to the crosse, it may he taken out with the hand, and the party picking it up must " face" with hia nearest opponent. KuLE XIV.— Ball Out of Bounds. Balls thrown nut of hound.s nnist be " faced " for at the nearest spot within the bounds, and all the players shall remain in their places until the ball is faced. The Referee shall see that this is properly done, and when both sides are ready shall call play. The " hounds" must be dis- tinctly settled by the Captains before the commencement of the match. Rule XV. — Throwing the Crosse. No player shall throw his crosse at a player or at the ball, under any circumstances; and such action will be considered a "foul." Should a player lose his crosse during a game, he shall consider himself " out of 'phiy," and shall not be allowed to touch the ball in any way until ho ngain recovers it. Kicking is absolutely prohibited to players without a crosse. Rule XVI. — Accidental Games. Should the ball be accidentally put through a goal by one of the play- ers defending it, it is game for the side attacking that goal. Should it be put through a goal by any one not actually a player it shall not count. Rule X\II. — Ball Catching in Netting. Should the ball catch in the netting, the crosse must immediately be struck on the ground, to dislodge it. Rule XVIII. — Rough Play, &c. No player shall grasp an opponent's stick with his hands, hold with his arms, or between his legs; nor shall any player hold his opponent's crosse with his ci'osse in any way to keep him from the ball until another player reaches it. No player, with his crosse or otherwnse, shall hold, deliberately strike, or trip another, nor push with the hand ; nor must any player jumj) at to shoulder an opponent from behind while running for or before reaching the ball ; nor wrestle with the legs entwined, so as to throw an opponent. Any nhail b( The cj consists Pi'o.sse, so ^"oibidder THK (;aMK. 187 ^opVor .shall charge into anothe,. aft,,,,,, „ ' ihe ha.s thrown the hall. R^iE XXI.-c«o.ssE Check. ''o |)layer .shall interfom J„ a" opp„„e„, ''''""- ■" ""^ ™y with anothe, .h„ ;. ,„ p„,,,,^ _^,. ^""^ xxm._rom p,,,. N'ction 1 Anv nl l;'»y. must report to hire?"'™,® ''''"'^'f P">-P'«oIy ;„,•„,.„, , . -all.var„^«^^ fit" ""P'>' """"O" the often.ler for tt fi ^"""'" «* ">e game T " &uch foul takes placp T?^„ * "^^ game fnot nmfn^^ • '^•'ove the offendin« «de having ton H ! '"'' '"'""8 ™n two 188 thp: home, farm and business cyclopaedia. >f ••? apply wliero special arrangements have been made by the Captains, as in Rule ix., Sec. 3. Rule XXV. — " Claiming Games." When " game " is claimed by the side attacking a goal, the Referee or Umpire shall immediately call " time." The Umpire shall then proceed to give his decision. T""" itil his decision has been given no game can be taken. The players shall keep their places, nor shall they leave them (unless the game be decided as won) until tlie game has again been started by the Refei'ee. No player shall in any way attempt to influence the decision of the Umpire, whose ruling shall be final in all cases. Rule XXVI. — Settlement of Disputes. . In the settlement of any dispute, it must be distinctly understood that the 'Captains, with one player to be selected by each of them, shall have the right to speak on behalf of their respective clubs ; and any proposi- tion or facts that any player may wish brought before the Referee must come through the Captains or the player selected by them. Rule XXVIL— Flag-Pole Down. In the event of a flag-pole being knocked down during a match, and the ball put through what would he the goal 'f the flag-pole were stand- ing, it shall count game for the attacking side. Rule XXVIII. — Challenges. Section 1. All challenges must be sent by post, registered, addressed to tlie Secretary of the Club intended to be challenged. Sec. 2. Any cluh receiving a challenge from another club, shall, within one week after its receipt, notify the challenging club of the time and place at which they are prepared to play. The place named shall be at either of their places of residence, or some intermediate place ; and the time mentioned shall be within three weeks from the reception of the challenge. All answers to challenges must be sent by post, registered, addressed to the Secretary of the Challenging Club. Sec. 3. On the day selected, if one club only put in an appearance, it shall bo eiititled to claim a victory by default. If its opponents refuse to fulfil their engagement, or do not appear upon the ground at the specified time, the So< any ( shall it lia |)orio( Ohalh in for( 10th oec. Challt the 9tl the 241 the 24t Sec. ( •^Iiall ah (iriginat hitter. PrEAJ! the Na. . Oliampio ship " Pej ning club rnics of t] "TheClu Section '> play ar ,veai-, and "latclies. Sec. 2. J Secretary i club. copie IHonship " , Oliaiupion Sec. 3. 1 disposed ch ^n'lject to J :ii ^'HK GAMK. tnne, the club complying with tho i ^^^ 's:T^ of th J 44. ^'^ ^-- ^^-^ "Pon shali he .eeW, >^^G. *. It at the time of ih^ .. ■^i-JI be extent" wt)""^' ""'"^"'^^'^ ^^^ t^'e time fo "J "' '" '""'' in f„.. " ,^"''" ""' 'apse with tlio end nf *l, -^^ """'' clialleime ; '°',? ""'!' ,P'»y«l off. Cl„Ulen.o,l cl r"""' '"" ^'"'" -"Unuo the 9th nf n r, ''"' '='"■"'"• than the loth If .r ""'' '''"'''Ption. I -'Ith f M ' ™'""'™' "'"' ■■° "..-.W. shall ,7'""' '*'"■ «•«" •^ '''^^ ^e governed by the il^EAMBLE.— In or.!<... f^ • Ill's 01 tJie fifanie Th/i i ii '^ o-iinexea rules anr] nic.^ i- «-«o„ ,.' The ei:;'1.o, ::™:':* «-P-n.s"of Canar"'-'"' "^^ Sec 2 In „ ' '"'™'''™ suel, ««,c.ta..y ' ha rj;;r-" °^ ""= '■"'•^^'-^ '-in? the " Ch.„ • , . «■'/ fsiiaii, AvitJim one wo^i- # • i *= '^"'^mpionsh n " f].^- ""^^^^^^^ " - "- »^'- - - :;-<' J';a''enge, and .^^to^t'Xr 'i'' ^'■^" '^^^ "P "'- „„. J«t to Kuie xxviii. (ChalJongea) ' '" '«='='»- the clubs in its membership, at least two months before it can be voted upon. When notice of alteration or amendment has been given as above, both the notice and amendments thereto may be voted upon at the Annual rjonvcntion. CiUiOiui in (^kuck |libing. -►•»••■»-♦- \UY one of the old-fashioned to begin upon; these may be got at a reasonable ])rice, as many have been discarded fof the modern ones. They are called " practicers," or, more familiarly, " bone-shakers." In learning to ride, it is ad- visable to have a competent teacher, who cannot only show what is wanted, but can also put the beginner in the way of doing it himself; but as many maybe unable, from dis- tance or other causes, to avail themselves of this kind of assistance, the following instructions are intended for those who are thus thrown upon their own resources. Of course it is necessary to have recourse to a friendly arm, and there may be many cases in which tivo friends are desirous to learn the bicycle, and can give mutual help. 102 THK HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. The old-fashioned bicycle is of this construction, that is, of moderate lieight and the most solid build, and altogether very different from its latest development, with its enormous driving-wheel and general lightness of make. These machines, with comparatively little difference in tin- height of the wheel, are best for beginners, as, being low, the getting on and off is easier and safer, and they are in every way adapted for the pur- pose ; and it is only when tolerable command of this kind is acquired, that the modein large-wheeled bicycle may be adventured with fair prospect of success. Eut even with these some discrimination is necessary. In choosino- a machine on which to begin practising, we st/ongly advise the learner to select one of the size suitable to his height, as, if it is too small, his kncos will knock against the handles, and if too large, his legs will not be loii^ enough fairly to reach tlie throw of the crank. We know it is not vn- cominon to begin with a boy's machine, and on an inclined plan ; but the benefit of these is very doubtful, unless you arc totally without help, ami have no one to lend you a helping hand. The best guide in measuring oneself for a bicycle to learn on is, we con- sider, to stand by its side and see that the saddle is in a line with the hips. The point of the saddle should be about six inches from the upright which supports the handles ; for if the saddle is placed too far back, you decrease your power over the driving-wheel, especially in ascending a hill. When you have secured a good velocipede, well suited to your size, you will find it useful to practise wheeling it slowly along while holding the handles. While thus leading it about, of course you will soon perceive the fact that the first desideratum is to keep the machine perfectly ui)riglit, which is done by turning the h.andles to the right or left when there is any inclination to deviate from the perpendicular. If inclining to the right, turn the wheel in the same direction, and vice versa, as it is only the rapidly advancing motion that keeps it upright, on the principle of the boy's hoop, which, the faster it rolls, the better it keeps its perpendicular, and which, when losing its momentum, begins to oscillate, and finally must fall on one side or the other. Now for the — FIRST LESSON. Having become accustomed to the motion of the m.achine, and well stu- died its mode of travelling, the next thing is to get the assistant to hold it steady while you get astride, and then let him slowly wheel it along. Do not attempt at first to put your feet on the treadles, but let them hang down, and simply sit quiet on the saddle, and take hold of the hau- THE OVERSHOT. MR. J. HOOBIN, OF THE SHAMROCK 'LACROSSE CLUB. dies, arm a hi or n-ai ^o\ ienco i macliir the fro Jintl t}i( «n Jioui 'landle turninfr Obsei tht? fi-on X«ur baj turn the lion in ^, "mst be ( 'hcuJar. «^erdo it, P''acti.S( ^e left to ^ P««h, an fore you i, ''ti'etch QUI I'itch upon Ma vino- 1 '''•aight, vu '^n the treac and down '^"t after a i ^fiJs dirticuif Of course, tJ'an others f ''""«^'if, and ( ^"^^^ we liax-, ^s SECOND LKSSON' -SHS3=f:3— • -,: 'enoe a .sensation of be „ " "n °" ^■'"" "■'" f""' V'^o CZL n . machine were tryin.. t„f^" '"™^' "'i'''. and it „ 7 ' "'"' "-"IW- tlie front „.,,„,/ "^ '«""■"»■ you off; b„t „„ vouh ''""' "^ '''"'e an hour or so t«L.- ' ^°'' "1' ""'1 wheel von T .. "'" ''andies I'an.lle so «! f ^'r' "'' '"""■"•'«■ Wl o ,^ ""' *°'' " 'I""'-'".- o f tile front vvheol n " * tJalanco, all is ,Jnna j xi , .™"n»d.„ee:ujt"„;i,:'^'"';\r-''>- otxi'r"' ""•''''■■"« l»r„ the wheel to thel^f ° ,\ ''""' '' ^•°'' fe^l yourself f.,M ? '"'"'""" ■•' P"*. and learinl I • .''"T' *''"'"^'^^ "n,! then etT r°'"-»»'f "Wa to f»«30„ i„elitt"o ^r '"S"' !.' ^-^ ■■"" by >our,e :;'"'f ""^-»yo" "«tch out the f^ot '^ tl" •™'' '■^'^' that yo ; ri ,1"'' " ''^" ^*'* be- ^^ SECOND LESSON. '^Z?[r'^^^^'"^^:^ZT^-^-^ '- „.ehi„e ""' "own ifibk to'/?' "'" '">- «-' tl e no" elTo " '° '""^ ^''-fce ''"' ''for a W , ° ""'"■'"=' ^O"'- attention fro n . ?"'™' °^ "'e legs „,, ""you ,„ay tmTtf '■'■ ■""■ " -'« -'oem wit i tt '" ""f""' ""'' «'"' 194 THE IU)MI':, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. THIED LESSON. Now, having in tho first lu.sson ridden with tlie feet lianging down, and in the second with them on the treadles, in the third lesson you should lie able to go along for a short distance, working the tieadles in the usual way. Of course, when we speak of the first and .second lessons, we do not mean that after practising each of them once you willbcahle, of necessity, to ride at the fli/trd attempt; although we have taught some wlio seemed to take to it all at once : but that these are the progressive steps in learn- ing to ride, and you must practise each of them until tolerably proficient. When you are sufficiently fandliar with the working of the tread ks while held by the assistant, it depends entirely on yourself, and the amount of confidence you may posse.-js, to determine the time at which he may let go his hold of you, and you may begin to go alone ; but of course for some time it will be advisable for him to walk by your side, to eatdi you in case of falling. When you have arrived at this stage, you only re- quire practice to make a good rider, and the amount of practice taken is generally a guide to the amount of skill gained. To Get on and Off. — Having now learned to ride the velocipede with- out assistance, we will now proceed to getting on and off in a respectaMe manner, in case you have not a step, which all modern machines are now provide^ course it i,s n,ueh bettor 1 ^ ""'' ^'^" ''^^'"' «iJe. ^ ^''^ "^■^''• '-^^■ten.pts at vaulting, an, ?'' "^^ ^''^^^''^'^nt with von . ^^-'^-^'iieyouv^ll :l: ^^^' ^>-^- to ieth- C^jtf"","'^^ '""'St not for'lncli has a t,.,. I "'" ''^'"l", .noiolv f i ' "' ^'"" l>"f is 0" ti,. /,:x"'™»^ ^^ w you. a„j 4;'^; •;. :^^^^^^^^ -•L.enC . ^»" ".ay u,o„nt the hiovclo • = ""^' P"''"" yo- ...V,,, ^'"'"ecl Will be sufficient to Tfv ''' ^^ ^^'^^^•^ up the . ''^'■'^^' ;^' "ito a side-sitting postu But to let ■onitnt -'"e purpose, you ^viH Te j ,"'r\ ^^^-- ^i^ti'.^' g- posture. anW i.... 1 ., *^'^'« ^o brin.r von.- 1 " a»^' drop to tho / "^'""^"i^' your log i to the ground with f.h.. * 'G same th, 10 w at this time nay strict mf .• ^'•> one hand un^l ' 1 "^'^" ^^ the.^,o-'„^ ^nr? f i ''<>'e affair mJ^ '^ " ^^^^^ ^ «- ^-id wi^.r ^,^!^-- -ver "^-y come to extreme grie?. ''^^'> ov you and i 1% THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.KDIA. .it This wo consider one of the easiest methods of getting oft', although it looks so difticult. To Ride Side-saddlf. — Riding in a aide-sitting position is very simple, but you must first learn the foregoing exercises. First vault on the usual way, and work up to a moderate sj)eed, then throw the right leg over tho handles as in the act of getting oft', but still retain your seat, and eontinuo working with the left leg only. Now from this position you may practise passing the right leg back again into its original position when sittini,' across the saddle in the usual way. To Rest the Lejjs. — A very useful position is that of stretching out the legs in front when taking long journeys, as it rests the legs, and also, as sometimes you do not require to work the treadle descending an in- cline, the weight of the machine and yourself being suthcient to continue the desired momentum. In this position the break is generally used ; but when putting it on, mind you do not turn the handles with both hands at once, but turn witli one first and then with the other ; as, if the spring should be strong, uiid you attempt to use both hands in turning it, as a matter of course when you let go to ttxke fresh hold the handles will fly bdck, to your great an- noyance. To Ride without using the Hands. — This is a very pretty and eftec- tive performance, but of course it is rather ditiicult, and requires much practice before attempting it, as the steering must be done with the feet alone, the arms being generally folded. To accomplish this feat, you must keep your feet firmly on the treadles in the upward as well as the downward movement, taking care not to take them oft' at all, as you will thereby keep entire command of them, which is absolutely necessary, as in fact they are doing double work, both propelling and also steering the machine. You will, as you become ex- pert in this feat, acquire a kind of clinging hold of the treadles, which you will find very useful, indeed, in ascending a hill when you take to outdoor travelling. Fancy riding of this kind must only be attempted on ofood surfaces. Description will not assist you much here, but when you attempt it you will soon find out that when riding without using the hands, every stroke of the foot, either right or left, must be of the same force, as, if you press heavier on one treadle than on the other, the machine will have a ten- dency to go in that direction ; and thus you must be on the watch to counteract it by a little extra pressure on the other treadle, without giv- ing enough to turn the machine in the reverse direction. Tl, good tery ( Bui resuni To out us tii'st si much 1 pede u them o will fin actuallj In p) motion, TJiis i speed ol with a ^ lie fiat tj AtRj most use upon it. The 1 ^vhei'e yo '^tand wil THIUD LKSSON. 197 This is all a matter of nice jiulgmont, l»ut when you can do it a very ffood ettect is produced, giving spectators the idea of your eonii>k'te mas- tery of the bicycle. But remember that you must be always ready to seize the liaudles, and resume command if any interruption to your progress presents itself. To Hide without using Legs or Hands. — As you can now ride with- out using the hands, let us now proceed to try a performance which, at first sight, will perhaps seem almost impos.sible, but which is really not imich more difficult than going without hands. This is to iiet the veloci- pedc up to fall speed, and then lift your feet off the treadles and place tlu'iu on each side of the rest, and when your legs are up in this way, you will find that you can let go the handles and fold your arms, and thus lU'tually ride without using either legs or Junids. In progressing thus, the simple fact is that you overcome gravity by motion, and the machine cannot fall until the momentum is lost. This should only be attempted by an expert rider, who can get up a speed of twelve to fourteen miles per hour, and on a very good surface and with a good run ; and, in fact, from this position you may lean back, and lie Hat down, your body resting on and along the spring. At Rkst.— We are now come to the last and best, or, we may say, the most u.seful feat of all, and this is to stop the bicycle and sit quite still upon it. The best way to commence practising this is to run into a position where you can hold by a railing or a wall, or perhaps the assistant will stand with his shoulder ready for you to take hold of. Now gradually slacken speed, and when coming nearly to a standstill, turn the front wheel until it makes an anjjle of 4.') deo insignificant when the water is out that few persons would take any notice «f it ; but, when a novice is in the water, these few inches may just make the difference between safety an■'.' On sandy shores tlie most fertile source of holes is to bo found in larpre stones. They sink rather deeply into the sand and form miniature i-oeks, round which the water courses as the tides ebb and flow, thus cuttinir a channel comi)letely round the stone. Even when the stone is removed, the hole will remain unfilled throughout several tides. The next best place for learning to swim, is a river with a fine sandy bed, clear water, and no weeds. When such a spot has been found, the next care is to examine the bed of the river, and to remove very carefully everything that might hurt the feet. If bushes should grow on the banks, look out carefully for broken scraps of boughs, which fall into the stream, become saturated with water, sink to the bottom, and become fixed to one of the points upwards. If human hal)itations should be near, beware of broken glass and crock- ery ; fragments of which ai'e generally fiung into the river, and will inflict most dangerous wounds if trodden on. If the bed of the stream should be in the least muddy, look out for mussels, which lie imbedded almost to their sharp edges, that project upwards and cut the feet nearly as badly as broken glass. Failing sea and river, a pond or canal is the only resource, and furnishes the very worst kind of water. The bed of most ponds is studded with all kinds of cutting and piercing objects, which are thrown in by careless boys, and remain where the}' fell. Then, the bottom is almost invariably muddy, and the water is seldom clean, St'ul, bad as is a pond, it is better than nothing, and the intending swimmer ma}' console himself with the refiec- tion that he is doing his duty, and with the prospect of swinnning in the sea some time or other. Of course the large public baths possess some of the drawbacks of ponds; but they have, at all events, the advantage of a regulated depth, a firm bank, and no mud. At the very essence of swimming lies in confidence, it is always better for the learner to feel secure that he can leave the water whenever he likes. Therefore, let him take a light rope of tolerable length, tie one end to some firm object on the bank, and let the rest of the rope lie in the water. "Manilla" is the best kind of rope for this purpose, because it is .so light that it floats on the surface instead of sinking, as is the case with an ordinary hempen rope. If there is only sand on the shore, the rope can be moored quite firmly by tying it to the middle of a stout stick, burying the stick a foot or so in the sand, and filling up the trench. You may pull till you break the rope, hut yo tie twc The weight nary w Ontl in the ^"» the side. ^ r»„ , --'"uvtu, ana an- enters On each occasion that ih. i i • 210 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ful in the course of from two to five minutes, proceed to imitate breath- ing V»y Dr. Silvester's method, as follows : — 1. — Paticnfs itnsitlon. Place the patient on the back of a flat surface, inclined a little upwards, from the feet ; raise and support the head and shouUlers on a small tinii cushion, or folded article of dress placed under the shoulder blades. 2. — To effect a free entrance of air into the icindpipe. Cleanse the mouth and nostrils, draw forward the patient's tongne, and keep it projecting beyond the lips ; an elastic band over the tongue and under the cliin will answer this purpose, or a piece of string or tape may be tied round them by raising the lower jaw, the teeth may be made to retain the tongue in that position. Remove all tight clothing from about the neck and chest, especially the braces. 3. — To imitate the movements of breathing. Standing at the patient's head, grasp the arms just above the elbows, and draw the arms gently and steadily upwards above the head, and kcq them stretched upwards for two seconds. (By this 'means air is dnnn into the lungs.) Then turn down the patient's arms and press them gently and firmly for two seconds against the sides of the chest. (Bij tht^ means air is pressed out of the lungs. Pressure on the breast-bone will aid this.) Repeat these measures alternately, deliberately, and perseveringly, about fifteen times in a minute, until a spontaneous effort to respire is perceived ; immediatel}'^ upon which cease to imitate the movements ci breathing and proceed to ir.duce circulation and luarmth. Should a warm bath be procurable, the body may be placed in it up to j the neck, continuing to imitate the movements of breathing. Raise the body in twenty seconds in a sitting position, and dash cold water against the chest and face, and pass ammonia under the nose. The patient shouWj not be kept in the warm bath longer than five or six minutes. 4, — To excite inspiration. During the employment of the above method excite the nostrils witl snuff" or smelling salts, or tickle the throat wuth a feather. Rub thechesfj and face briskly, and dash cold and hot water alternately on them. » J— Appe^ ^I'eatliing ^%halfck contracted ; ^^('se, as weJ *nd pallor of DROWNING. 211 IV—TheaTMENT AFTER NatTIB., H. ,, „ '"'"'"'"""'^■-"'^"^"nd Circulation. VV rap the patient in di-v 1,1a ..i . (By tluj mean, the l,l„„d i, ,,mj,olS:^'"f ''''"*-'^'''''f«. "-""0!, fee' « ^"*^^^ 0* over the drv i. Promote (]ie warmth of +1 i , ^ ffann eothing may generally b7obta fed r ,'° ""'= ""''' °' "■« feet 2. If the patient has been carried ,1 "" ''>''tan«le«. -torod. be careful to let t ^a r I'lred "r "''"■ ■■"P'™''"" <- been ;-«« ^-taXiai; o'rr'tr bt" r-« -•-^ ^»~ le^^^^^^^ "«- the distressed breathing " ''^ ^'-ulders will g^eX";.' V-Gekekai, Ob, most property to carry with him when he travels, and wliich two have the least ? 45. How many sticks go to the building of a crow's next ? 40. Wliy was Robinson Crusoe not alone on his desert island ? 47. Why are there no eggs in St. Domin- go i 48. What is invisible blue ? 49. Which is the most wonderful animal in the farm-yard ? Which peer wears the largest hat ? When does the beer become eatable ? Why is a patent safety Hansom cab a dangerous carriage to drive in ( o3. Why are bakers very self-denying peo- ple / 54. Why is whispering in company like a forged bank-note ? Which constellation resembles an empty fire-place ? What is the last remedy for a smoky chimney ? What relation is that child to its fa- ther who is not its father's own son ? When does a cow become real estate ? 59. W hy i.re dissenters like spiders >. CO. Why did Marcus Curtis leap into the gulf in Rome I 01. Why is a soldier like a vine ? 02. Which is heavier, a half or a full moon ? 03. When should you avoid the edge of the river ( ^^ hy must a fisherman be very weal- thy ? 50. 51. 52. - 00, 50. 0(. 58. V<54., • 05. »;g. M57. I 08. ' 09. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 70. "•It I I • 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. ■ 83. 84. 85. 80. 87. 88. 80. 90. 91. 92. If the fender and fire-irons cost throe pounds, what will a ton of coals come to ? Why are the fourteenth and fifteenth letters of the alphabet of more im- portance than the others ? What is the way to make your coat lliSt ? Why is an alligator the most deceitful of animals ? Why is it impossible that there should be a best horse on a racecourse ? Why are fowls the most economical creatures that farmers keep ? When may a ship be said to be in love I What relation is the door- mat to the scraper ? What vegetable most resembles little Fanny's tongue I Why is gt)08eborry jam like counter- feit money ? What is that which has never been felt, seen, nor heard — never existed and still has a name ? Why is a congreve-box without matches, superior to all other boxes :' Why is a postman in danger of losing his way ? What is that which comes with a coach, goes with a coach, is of no use to the coach, and yet the coach can't go without it I What three letters give the name of a famous Roman general ? Why would it aflront an owl. to mis- take him for a pheasant ? If your uncle's sister is not your aunt, what relation does she bear to you / Of what profession is every child ? Why is the lettf.r I in Cicero like Arabia ? W^hy is troy weight like an unconsci- entious person ? Why is chloroform like Mendelssohn i When is a sailor not a sailor I Why does a duck put its head under water ? What wild animals may be correctly shut up in the same enclosure ? What makes a pair of boots ? Can you tell me why A hypocrite sly Is the man who best knows Upon how many toes A pussy-cat goes ? What tree is of the greatest import- ance in history ? Which is the most moral food — cake or wine ? ■HWRHRSWSS SSBSai 214 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ^93. Why is a good resolution like a faint- iJ24. ing lady at a ball ? i 94. Why is a carpenter like a languid 1^125, dandy ? | 95. When does a monkey weigh least ? i 90. What is the last blow a defeated ship }vl2G gives in battle ? I 97. What had better be done when there }\127. is a great rent on the farm ? j 08. Why is an uncomfortable seat like comfort ! "^ 99. What two letters do boys delight in, to the annoyance f their elders ? 100. What single word would you put down for £4€ borrowed from yo\i 1 *^101. When is a river like a young lady's letter I 102. Why is the Bank of England like a 1^133 thrush I "^103. Why would a pelican make a good lawyer ? >• 104. Describe a suit of old clothes in two letters. ^ 105. Which is the proper newspaper for invalids i ^ IOC. What American poet may be consid- ered equal to tiiree-tifths of the poeta, ancient and modtrn. ^107. What precious stone is like the en- trance to a field. 108. When is a man like frozen rain ? >» 109. Which of the stars should be subject to the game-laws ? \d40, "* 1 10. What garden crop would save drain ing i " 111. W hen does a cook break the game laws i — 112. Spoil an interrogation with one letter. , ^ 113. When is a bill not a bill I ^143. ^ 1 14. What pen ought never to be used for sl44. writing ? ■^115. When is a subject beneath one's no tice ? 116. Why is a loyal gentleman like a miser ! 117. Why is the letter W like the Queen's ladies ] ~-118. What tune makes everybody glad ? --»»119. Why are Dover clius like the letter D? "^ 120. When is a straight field not a straight tield I - 121. Why is a fish-hook like the letter F ? — 122. What letter is that which is in-visible, but never out of sight / "~ 123. How would you express in two letters that you were twice the bulk of your j463. companions I j ^128. ^29. 130. ' 131. 1032. a34. 435. 13G. 137 138. '^9. 141. U42. 145. U 46. 147. t448. 149. fJoO. [l51. Why is attar of roses never moved without orders ? If the Greeks had pushed Pan into the Bay of Salamis, what would he have been when he came out ? When is a lady's arm not a lady 'a arm ? What is that which occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, and not once in a hundred years / What is an old lady in the middle of a river like I When is a fish above its station ? When do we witness cannibalism in England ( When is a boy not a boy i When is a piece of wood like a queen ? When is a skein of thread like the root of an oak ? What is that whicli has a mouth but never speaks, and a bed but never sleeps in it ? What word contains all the vowels in their proper order / Wnat letter used to be distributed at tournaments I Why is a carriage going down a steep hill like St. George i Why is I the happiest of all the vowels. Why should you never employ a tailor who does not understand his trade ? Why are your eyes like friends separ- ated by distant climes i Why is a bad-tempered horse the best hunter ? What sort of a face does an auction- eer like best ] Why is the letter F like a cow's tall ? What is the difierence between a hus- bandman and a sempstress ( What is it of which we have two every year, two every week, and two every day ? How does a boy look if you hurt liim .' What medicine ought to be given to misers i AVhy do British soldiers never run away ? What weight or measure would no competitor wish to be t What part of a railway carriage re- sembles Fanny when she is sleepy f Why is the letter R most important to young people ? Why iis a liealthy boy like England I When is a book like a prisoner in the States of Barbary i CONUNDRUMS. 21.5 _i5r>. - 150. ,. 157. 158. 159. y IGO. aiCl. y 103. 11)4. , 105. ^IGG. ..- 107. 108. 1G9. .-170. _17l. ^172, What wind would a hungry FailoH-185. prefer I ! On which side of a pitcher is the flSG. handle ? I When may a chair be said to dislike 187 you i hus- 1 - 173. every 174. I two ^ 175. liim I ?en to 170. 177. r ran 178. ^179. Id no 180. rere- 181. jepy* 182. )rtailt 1 1 i 183. anJi 1 I 184, 188. 189. ^00. 201. ithe What is that w'lich divides by uniting and unites by dividing ( Why are young children like castles j»l 90, in the air i What is higher and handsomer when the head is ofl' ? ^1 91. Why is a proud girl like a music- 1 book / _ I 192. SVhy is a short negro like a white ! man I I' 193. Why are bells the most obedient ofyl94. inanimate things ? j Why are boxes at a theatre the sad- Jrldo. deal places of public amusement. | 190. Why is the most discontented man the j most easily satisfied / | Why are ripe potatoes in the ground j/197. like thieves ] ] Why is it unjust to blame cabinen for ' cheating us ? , 198. When is a thief like a reporter ? When is the French nation like a J'109. baby I What does a lamp-post become when the lamp is removed / What things increase the more you contract them I Why is a mother who spoils her chil- dren like a person building castles ,.f-202. in the air/ 203. Wlien you listen to your little bro- ther's drum, why are you like a just ' 204. judge i When is a tourist in Ireland like a 205. donkey ? Who always tdts with his hat on be- fore the Qieen I Why is a p g in the drawing-room like a hous on fire i When is a riv r not a river I What trade n ver turns to the left / What trade ' more than full i Why is electricity like the police whey they are wanted ? When is a borough like a ship I Why are guns like trees ? What tow:i is drav/n more frequently^ 213, than any other ? Who was the first postman ? Why is little Prince Albert Victor like the two things in which chil- dren most rejoice t /20C. 1207. '208. ^09. 210. 211. 212. 214. 215. i'210. What is the key-note to good breed- ing J What is the dilFerence between a sailor and a soldier I ^Vhy is a rook like a farmer ? Why is anger like a potato ? W ay does pedestrianism help arith- metic ] What trees are those which are the same after being burned as they were before ! What is the best thing to do in a hurry ! Why are cobblers like Sir William Ferguson ? Which is the ugliest hood ever worn ! What nation will always overcome in the end ? When is butter like Irish children i On what tree would an ode be writ- ten whicli would name an Irish M. P. J What have you now before you which would give you a company, a veil- ed lady, and a noisy toj' ? What is the difference betv/een Kos- suth and a half-starved oyster I If Neptune lost his dominions, what would ho say ? Why is a Dorcas Society like an as- sembly of dishonest people I It went before Queen Mary — poor thing ! It followed King William to the end — poor man ! Why is the letter A like nonn / Why is a five pound note more than five sovereigns I W^hen was the greatest destruction of poultry I In what respects wore the govern- ments of Algiers and Malta as dif- ferent as light from darkness ( Wlien is a young lady's cheek not a cheek ? When is her nose not a nose ' When is a boy not a boy / When is a ship foolishly in love ? Wlien is a ship like Harry's mamma 1 What part of London would a horse most like to live in i What do you put before nine to make it three less by the addition I Why should you never attempt to catch the 12.50 train i Who is the best pew-opener / Given A B 0, to find Q. Which is the easier profession, a doc- tor's or a clergyman's ( 216 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. /^ 217. ^ 218. ^19. ^ 220. ^^221. 222. 223. 224. 225. r What word of four sylLables repre-^ senta Sin riding on a little animal ? If I were in the sun and you out of it, what would the sini become \ Why is a tallow chandler the most unfortunate of all mankind \ What is it that walks with its head I downwards \ i Why are the hours from one to twelve ' like good Christians \ \ Why is a hen walking across the road like a conspiracy ? On which side of the church is the yew-trje planted ? - Why cannot Napoleon III. insure his life ? ' How many wives does the Prayer- book allow / 220. Why have ducks no hereafter ? :?27. Why is a dog with a lame leg like a boy at arithmetic / 228. Why is an engine-driver like a school master \ 220. What will a leaden bullet become in water ? 230. Why is a person of short stature Uke an almanack \ 231. Why is the smoke of tobacco like Port wine \ 232. Why is a photograph like a member of I'arliament \ 233. Why is London Bridge like merit \ 234. That which every one recjuires, that which every one gives, that which every one asks, and that v/hich very few take. ANSWEES TO CONUNDRUMS. 1 . Into his lortieth year. 2. The elder tree. 3. Pepper and salt. 4. Because they practise their profes- sions. 5. She pulled his ears and trod on his corn. 0. Because they are the weaker ves- sels. 7. W^hen long experience has made him sage. 8. Englishmen. In Scotland there are men of Ayr (air), in Ireland men of Cork ; but in England are liijliter- men. 9. K. N. (Cayenne). 10. Because when yuu separate the head from the body, you don't take it from the trunk. 11. The footman. 12. Smo-king and soa-king. 13. When it has a hole in it. 14. Because it covers its face with its hands, and runs down its own workj. 15. Because it is always in fun. 10. Because they have ears which can't hear, eyes which cannot see. 17. Caper sauce. 18. Because she's a-mountain ! 19. It never does right (write) of itself. 20. Because Ciee (G) makes it go / 21. Because they make people steel (steal) pens, and say they do write (right). 22. 23. 24. 25. 20. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 30. 37. 3H. 3!». 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. Because the train always runs over sleepers. When it is a-drift. CiAuiubus. Chap. I. Because it is a head (s) centre. He is an India gent (indigent). A mugyy day. One is hard up and the other soft 'own. Yes ; they are Macaw-lays (Macau- lays). Inn-attention. Mouse. .Vhen he sits down to wine (whine) and pine. Bank notes, and they make (four) for tunes. When he takes a roll in bed. Because he runs for cups, plates, and st.akea (steaks). When there's a leek (leak) in it. Stone. When they are mustered (mustard). It makes oil, boi\. Because it makes ice into rice. ti)uick. One skims milk and the other skims water. The elephant the most, because he carries a trunk. The fox and ock the least, as they have only a brush and comb between them. None ; they are all carried to it. fc-/ ;ii liSv .•."•■"■'>,i»'*»'" ^ ^if ■^^^w^^ \r-'"^^*'*^- ..■ >v^»ai^r •^0UU/^*^ 55. 0(). sC2. (;4. 0. 01. vC2. ^C3. C4, <)5. CG. 67. C8. CO. ro, n. 72. 73. 74. 75, 7fi. 87. For diver's reasons. ^O.irK"'^^^--^ pound. »0. A hypocrite neat Cake, because it is nt,i„ ^ tipsy, while w ine is of LT'* '"^"^ Because it ou^ht In i """en drunk. ,- -."^.w,«au. - "- Because he ffll -r^^ ''""ed out. ush.r:!..r" ^'^"o^i"^ and 108. 109. 110. III. 112. thebull.rushcro„t' ^^-auseh..allnetprotit. '^^^u^SrH'«*on(ON)we^ i-^i^^:ir^^*firs, nance in the a.f Tl ,''P'^" ^«""te- Because therel «1^ *'^'."" >'^'» »»• n ^°arlet runner. ., KS;;::/*--t current (currant), ,1'- Jt 18 matchless. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 80. ot strangers. ''»^ noise. f/ 'J (Scipio). 1^ player, Jt 's between two seas fC\ ; ''as no scruples. ^•''^^«)- because it is one nf fi **'>enheisa-Ioft. A noise. . ]2r. Wh! P^'"." P**" Poe. A -gate. ^Viien he is hale rhail). ^hooting stars. ' l^eeks. When^she poaches eggs. ills w.^^^^'-p^'^- ^'c fclrtr^^l^""^•^'-^*'-• ^^^i^ttr--^:;""^"-'^- 1 122. 1. '""'' 'twill make an eel /eel J||- I W(r double you). 1^4. Because it is sent (scents w>, goes. ^scent) wherever it 12r. wf^r'aPan. raahor ""'' "«"' ""'ins » 135. Facetious. 218 130. 137. 133. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 140. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 150. 157. 158. 169. 100. 101, 102. 103. 104. 105. 160. 107. 108. 109. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180, 18J. 182. THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINP:SS CYC'LOP.EDIA. L.argess (S). I It is ilrawu with a drag on (dragon). Because it is in bliss while most of the others are in Purgatory. | Because you would get bad habits from him. j They correspond, but never meet. i Because he soonest takes a fence | (takes offence). One that is for-bidding. It is the end of beef. i The one gathers what he sows ; the other sews what she gathers, i* owgIs It makes him yell " Oh " (yellow). Anti-money (antimony). Because they belong to the standing army. The last. The wheel, because it is tired. Because without it we should have neither Christmas nor a New Year. He possesses a good constitution. When it is bound in Morocco. One that blows foul (fowl) and chops about. The outside. When it can't bear you. Scissors, Because their existence is only in- fancy. A pillow. She is full of airs. He is not at all black (a tall black). Because they make a noise whenever they are tolled (told). Because they are always in tiers (in tears). Nothing satisfies him. They ought to be taken up. Because we call them to take us in. When he takes notes. When it is in arms. A lamp lighter. Debts. She indulges in-fancy too much, because you hear both sides. When he is going to Bray. Her coachman. Because the sooner it is put out the better. When it is eye water (high water). A wheelwright. Fuller. Because it is an invisible force. When it is under canvas^. People plant them and they shoot. Cork. 183. Ciidmus. He carries letters from Phfunicia to Greece. 184. He is the sun and air (son and heir) of England. 185. B natural. 180. One tars his ropes, the other pitches his tent. 187. He gets his grub by the plough. 188. It shoots from the eye. 189. It is a Walkinghame (walking game)* 190. Ashes. 191. Nothing. 192. They are skilled in the art of heeling (healing). 193. Falsehood. 194. Deiermi-nation. 195. When it is made into little I ats. 19'i. Ode on a yew (O'Donoghue). 197. Co-nun-drum. 198. One is a native of Hungary, the other a hungry native. 199. I have not a notion (I have not an ocean). 200. It is very sew-sew (so-so) society. 201. Letter M. 202. It comes in the middle of the day. 203. Because when you put it in your pocket you double it, and when you take it out you find it in creases. 204. When King Claudius of Denmark did " murder most foul " (fowl). 205. The one was governed by deys (days), the other by knights (nights). 206. When it's a little pale (pail). 207. When it's a little reddish (radish). 208. When he is a spoon. 209. When she is anchoring (hankering) after a swell. 210. When she is attached to a buoy (boy). 211. Gray's Inn (Grazing) Lane. 212. S IX (S added). 213. Because it would be 10 to 1 if you caught it. 214. One bob (i.e., one shillin<2). 215. Take CAB, and drive through H:im- mersmith to find Kew (Q). 210. A clergyman : he preaches, the doc- tor practises. 217. Sin-on-a-mouse (synonymous). 218. Sin. 219. Because all his wrks are wicked, and all his wick-ed works are brought to light. 220. A nail in a shoe. 221. Because they are always on the watch. 222. It is a fowl (foul) proceeding. 223. The outside. mi^: rORTUNE-TELLING. 211) 224. Because no man living is able to make out his policy, 225. Sixteen ; for (f(jur) richer, for (four) poorer, for (four) better, for (four) worse. 220. Because they have their necks twirled in this. (Next world sounds like necks twirled). 227. He puts down three and carries one. 228. Because one (rains the mind, and the other minds the train. 229. Wet. 230. Because he is often overlooked or looked over, 231. Because it comes out of a pipe. 232. Because it is a representative. 233. It is often passed over. 231. Advice, ^Forlunc-'C^clling. -♦♦^ 'HIS is a very interesting game, and may be played by any number of person.s, A board is made and divided into eleven squares each way, as shown in the diagram given here, the figure one being in the centre. Each square mu.st be numbered as in the diagram. The person who wishes to try his fortune must place his forefinger on a square without looking at it ; then refer to the list for the num- ber marked on the scjuare touched, and you will obtain an answer, which, like those given by professed fortune tel- lers, will often prove false or ridiculous ; as, for instance, when a married lady is told that she longs to be married (84), or a child of seven is in- formed that he will be married this year (89) ; but it is a very amusing game notwithstanding. 117 11(1 118 119 120 80 121 82 8;} 84 85 86 87 78 79 81 50 51 52 53 54 83 115 77 47 48 24 49 20 27 28 29 55 89 lit 76 46 25 10 11 12 30 56 90 113 75 71 45 23 22 9 8 2 3 13 31 57 58 91 112 44 1 4 14 32 92 1 111 73 43 21 '7 6 5 15 33 59 93 110 72 42 20 19 18 17 16 34 60 94 109 71 41 1 69 40 39 38 37 36 35 61 95 108 70 68 67 : 63 102 65 64 63 62 96 1 107 lot) 105 i 104 103 101 100 9!) 98 97 220 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.fJDIA. MSWEES TO FORTUNE-TELLING. 1. A life full of chanties, die rich. 2. Early marriage and prosperous. 3. Many lovers, but die single. 4. A speedy journey of great importance. 5. Become rich through a legacy. €. Hours of pleasure, years of care. 7. Your present lover is false. 8. You will marry your present choice. 9. Wed thrice, and die in widowhood. 10. \'ou will travel over land and sea. 11. If not already wed, you never will be. 12. Gaming will be yotir ruin. 13. You will be very happy in marriage. 14. You will change your love soon. 15. A long life and prosperous. 16. A rival will cause you tears. 17. Beware of a false friend. 18. Fate decrees you two partners. 19. A large family of prosperous children. 20. You will not wed your present lover. 21. You will soon fall desperately ia love. 22. You will soon be in mourning. 23. You will g.ain an estate by industry. 24. You will better yourself by marriage. 25. You will soon lose by fraud. 20. You will marry an ill-tempered person. 27. A sudden rise attends you. 28. You will see an absent lover. 29. Many enemies, but finally triumph. 30. A bad partner, but happy reformation. 31. A speedy proposal of marriage. 32. A present, and a new lover. 33. Invitation to a gay party. 34. A serious quarrel. 35. A disgraceful intrigue. 30. A run of ill luck. 37. Gifts of money. 38. A good partner in marriage. 39. You will become rich. 40. Money through love. 41. Cash by trade. 42. A long journey. 43. Important news soon. 44. Mind what yon say to a lover. 45. A present from a distance. 40. A dispute with one you love. 47. Visit from a distant friend. 48. A lawsuit. 49. Advancement in life. 50. Love at first sight. 51. A prize worth having. 52. Wealth, dignity, honour. 63. Visit to a foreign land. 54. Profit by industry. 55. A multitude of cards. 56. Preferment through a friend. 57. Second partner better than first. 58. Surmount many difficulties. 59. A false friend. 00. A pleasing surprise. 01. A change in your affairs. 02. A ramble by moonlight. 03. Injured by scandal. 04. Unpleasant tidings. ()5. Great loss and disappointment. GO. About to attend a christening. 07. Change of situation. 08. A handsome present soon. 09. An invitation to a marriage. 70. News from sea. 71. Happiness or marriage. 72. Pleasant intelligence from abroad. 73. An agreeable partner. 74. You are in love, though you won't avow it. 75. A quarrel with your intended. 70. Disappointment in love. 77. You will fall in love with one who is already engaged. 78. You will inherit an estate shortly. 79. An unexpected death. 80. You meditate an elopement. 81. A dangerous illness. 82. Crosses and disappointments await yon. 83. You have three strings to your bow. 84. You long to be married. 85. Your intended is in the sere and yel- low leaf. 80. A lapful of money and a lapful of chililren. 87. You will marry a widow or widower. 88. You will have few friends. 89. You will be married this year. 90. You will be apt to break your promise. 91. Marry in haste and repent at leisure. 92. You are in danger of losing your sweet- hear* 93. Bewan,- of changing for the worse. 94. You shall have man)' offers. 95. You will be happy if contented. 90. You will shortly obtain your wishes. 97. An advantageous bargain. 98. You will see your intended next Sun- day for the first time. 99. Others will covet your good luck. 100. Travel in a foreign land. J 01. Venture freely and you will certainly gain. 102. Your present speculations will succeed. THE ORACULUM OR BOOK OF FATE. 221 103. You love one who does not lovo you. \ 113. Misfortune at first, but comfort and 1()4. Wealth from a (juartor you little sus- i happiness after. pect. 114. Prosperity in all your undertakings. 105. You will obtain your wishes through ; 116. Rely not on one who pretends to be a friend. { your friend. lOG. A fortune ia in store for you — perse- IIG. Change your situation and you will do vere. ! better. 107. Alter your intention ; you cannot sue- 117. It will be difficult for you to get a ceed. partner. 108. Remain at home for the present. ! 118. Your love is whimsical and chanjieiv- 100. Ill luck awaits you. 110. Prepare for a journey. 111. You will succeed according to your wishes. 112. Beware of enemies who seek to do you harm. ble. 119. You will meet with sorrow and trou- ble. 120. Your love wishes to be yours this moment. 121. You will gain nothing by marriage. THE ORACULUM OR BOOK OF FATE. The Oraculum which follows is a most amusing game. By some per- sons it has been regarded as more than a pastime. The great Napoleon constantly coi\sulted it. It is, of course, given here merely as a pastime. The Oraculum is gifted with every requisite variety of response to the following questions : 1. Shall I obtain my wish ? _, 2. Shall I have success in my undertakings ? 3. Shall I gain or lose in my cause ? 4. Shall I have to live in foreign parts ? 5. Will the strange 1- return ? G. Shall I recover my property ? 7. Will my friend be true ? 8. Shall I have to travel ? 9. Does the person love and regard me ? 10. Will the marriage be prosperous ? 11. What .sort of a wife or husband .shall I have ? 12. Will she have a son or daughter ? 13. Will the patient recover ? 14. Will the prisoner be released ? 15. Shall I be lucky or unlucky ? 16. What does my dream signify ? i i I tn! 222 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. IIoiv to Work the Ovacxdum. Make marks in four lines, one under another, in the following manner, making more or less in each line, according to your fancy : #♦» #»### #***»♦**♦♦ ♦ *«•♦*#*♦♦«* ##•»*##***»♦# • • • Then reckon the number of marks in each line, and if it be odd, mark down one dot ; if even, two dots. If there be more than nine marks, rec- kon the surplus ones over that number only, viz. : The number of marks in the first line of the foregoing are odd ; therefore make one mark thus ^ In the second, even, so make two thus ^ ^ In the third, odd again, make one mark only ,1^ In the fourth, even again, two marks ^ ^ To Obtain the Answer. You must refer to The Oraculum, at the top of which you will find a row of dots similar to those you have produced, and a column of figures corresponding with those prefixed to the questions ; guide your eye down the column, at the top of which you find the dots resembling your own, till you come to the letter on a line with the number of the question you are trying ; then refer to the page having that letter at the top, and on <(* in my nnilertiikinKS? 3;ShalI 1 nain or lowe in niv eaiiHo '! 4|Shall I have to live in forei^i \n\Ttn ? 5|Win the Rtranuer return from ahroad ? (l|Shall I recover my property stolen? 7|VVill my friend be true in his dealings t S Shall I have to travel ? ' •« * •• *• ♦»; « ,*» »»|,d '■A |AiB|C!I)!E|F|G!H| I !K| L|M| N| Oi Pi q\Y I B| Ci^Dl E_m£lH! llK|LiM|N|0| P| Qi A|2 7C| \) EfFl G| H| li K| LfMl N| OJ^FJ Q, A|"BT IDlEiFlQlHl 1 1 K| L MINI OfPlQlAI I}rC|4 ',l|Doe8 the person love and regard me? 10 Will the marriage be prosperous? jElFIGiHII IKI L|M| N| 0| P; q] A| 870] Dl5' _LF|GiH| I |K| LiMlN, OiJ*! t^! Ai B| CIDJ E|6 _^G|HJ_IJK[L! M iJvTl^ O , PjJilAT Bi^Cf i)] EfF^ _^ijjge or else you may be sorry. Decline a courtship which may be your destruction. ♦ 3C; E Your travels are in vain had better stay at home. you You MAY DEPEND OH a true and sincere friendship. You must NOT expect to regain that which you have lost. Sickness prevents the traveller from seeing you. It will be your fate to stay where now are. i D. You WILL obtain a great fortune in another country. * *♦ ♦♦ y ♦* ♦♦ By venturing freely, you will certainly gain doubly. God will chanj^o your miaiurtuno into success and happiness. Alter your intentions, or else you MAY meet poverty and distress. Signifies you have many impedi- ments in accomplishing your pur- suits. Whatever may possess your incli- nations this day, abandon them. The p is juer will get free a^ain this time. The patient's illness will be lin- gering and doubtful. Sue will have a dutiful and hand- some son. * * The person will bo low in circum- stances, but honest-hearted. A marriage which will add to yoiir welfare and prosperity. You love a pe^^on who does not speak well of you. Your travels will be prosperous, if guided by prudence. tie means not what he says, for his heart is false. With some trouble and expense, you may regain your property. You aiust nut expect to see the stranger again. B. I The stranger will not return so soon as you expect. Remain among your friends, and you will do well. You will hereafter gain what you seek. ** You have no luck — pray to God,^ and strive honestly. You will obtain your wishes by means of a friend. Signities you have enemies who will endeavour to ruin you. Beware — an enemy is endeavour- ing to bring you to strife and mis- fortune. u The prisoner's sorrow and anxiety are great, and his release uncertaiu. t ;ti * a f 1 1 i* 1 1 * lyc ** * %* to A 1 in ** 1 -1 ** yoi II I T 1 suc( 1 Y ♦♦ f S J ger II ^T ^l__ altei 1 TI II liber + I TI **. it sh ,i Ai tune. * II U . iT your 4 ^T? JL__^"i'sal, tt PfiC _£__ you w Ify it lave c **Jby. " ''®'''"»« '"'"Self there 'iH£ OiUCL'U-M. OK BOOK OF KATE. G. 225 ++ lou will n^*T;rr~— .. — i I 1* J" t* X I a * J.your^opertyji^ii^;^" "''^i- recover j 'to 'return":" '' '^« ^^^^^^i^T^oW dimcuir/or /oTuo^^^^^'^^^^'^ — mr -rL££!Lto^8cape it. t 226 n i_ n THE HOME, FAKM AKD BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. You will obtain what you wish for. yignities that on this day your for- tune will change for the better. ** .♦. Cheer up* your spirits, your luck is at hand. After LONG imprisonment he will be released. * T!ie patient will be relieved from sickness. She will have a healthy son. * You will be married to your equal in a short time. If you wish to be happy, do not marry this person. 1C3 e 3 C9 C 'J'his love is from the heart, and will continue until death. * $ The love is great, but will cause great jealousy. It will be in vain for you to tra- vel. Your friend will be as sincere as you could wish him to be. You will recover the stolen pro- perty through a cunning person. I The traveller will soon return with joy. I You will not be prosperous or for- tunate in foreign parts. Place your trust in God, who is tlie disposer of happinesi. Your fortune will shortly be changed into misfortune. You will succeed as you de- sire. k * * Signifies that the misfortune which threatens will be prevented. Beware of your enemies, who seek to do you harm. After a short time your anxie'y for the prisoner will cease. God will give the patient health and strength again. She will have '^ very fine daugh- ter. You will marry a person with whom you will have little comfort. * * * * ♦ *.t The marriage will not answer your expectations. After much misfottune you will be comfortable and happy. A sincere love from an upright heart. You will be prosperous in your journey. Do not BELV on the friendship of this person. ' The property is lost fobevee; but the thief will be punished. The traveller will be absent some considerable time. You will meet luck and happiness in a foreign country. You will not have any success foe the present^ You will succeed in your under- taking. Change your intentions and you will do well. Signifies that there are rogues at hand. B3 reconciled, your circumstanoes will shortly mend. The prisoner will be released The patient will depart this life. She will have a son. It will be difficulty for you to get a partner. L. You will get a very handsome per- son for your partner. Aft AV/L VWUI. LftliAlliiulf( is led choose." iiiaiTy stay -at- if she t if she t This water r and doin bachelor Anoth soup-|.la( iu aiiothe The in changed j to Mie tal «gnifiean If she t If she t( Ifshefi course, be They nil which thej ^he three h GAMES, F(tKFKITS, ETC. 233 ieiir Je Chaillu and the gorilla ; that Smith gave the gorilla a cigar and took one himself; and that the two monkeys, i. e.,l suppose, foun«l to see, or return, his salutation. LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. Do not liglitly give or promise letters of introduction. Always reinem- ber that when you give a letter of introduction you lay yourself under an obligation to the friend to whom it is addressed. If she lives in a <>-veat city, such as Chicago or Boston, you in a measure compel her to unden^o the [tenalty of escorting the stranger to some of those places of public en- tertainment in which the capital abounds. If your friend be a married lad}', and the mistress of a house, you put her to the expense of invitino- the stranger to her table. We cannot be too cautious how we tax the time and purse of a friend, or weigh too seriously the question of mutual advantage in the introduction. Always ask yourself whether the person introduced will be an acceptable acquaintance to the one to whom you present her ; and whether the pleasure of knowing her will compensate for the time or money which it costs to entertain her. If the stranger is in any way unsuitable in habits or temperament, you inflict an annoy- ance on your friend instead of a pleasure. In questions of introduction never oblige orie friend to the discomfort of another. Those £0 whom letters of introduction have been given should i^enCl them to the pej'son to whom they are addressed, and enclose a card. Avoid delivering a letter of introduction in person. It places you in the most undignitifd position imaginable, and compels you to wait while it is being read, like a servant who has been told to wait for an answer. If the re- ceiver of the letter be a really well-bred person, she will call upon you or leave her card the next day, and you should return lier attention within the week. If, on the other hand, a stranger sends you a letter of introduction and her card, you aie bound by the laws of politeness and hospitality, not only to call upon her the next day, but to follow up that attention with others. If you are in a position to do so, the most correct proceeding is to invite her to dine with you. Should this not be within your power, you can probably escort her to some of the exhiljitions, bazaars, or con- certs of the season ; any of which would be interesting to a provincial visitor. In short, eti([uette demands that you shall exert yourself to show kindness to the stranger, if only out of compliment to the friend who in- troduced her to you. If you invite her to take dinner with you, it is a better compliment to ask some others to meet her, than to dine with her teie-d-k'tc. Vou are ^m f ■ ''la^l i ''^BKi :h I? K !m(m ther assis gave A your foliar; ter i; easy forws a inspec Visi hav'j 1j ien(,fth. .your w Onr( your ca if the fn Shotil you cill visit is f Unlesi your arr; send rou: Leave- coriier. Autoffr but tlio,s( graphs, 01 Visits occasions very intin I'ovv mouri On the J death of 01 Uiu broil Never t, :niea^mh ■■A^h^^i^Mai VISITING CARDS. 241 thereby giving her an opportunity of making other ac([uaintance.s, and are assisting your friend in .still further promoting the purpose for which she cave her the introduction to younself. A letter of introduction sliould be given unsealed, not alone because your friend might wish to know what you have said of her, but also as a guarantee of your own good faith. As you should never give such a let- ter unless you can .speak highV of the bearer, this rule of etiquette i* easy to observe. By requesting your friend to fasten the envelope before forwarding the letter to its destination, you tacitly give her permission to inspect its contents. VISITING CARDS. Visits of ceremony should be short. If even the conv(3rsation should have become animated, beware of letting your call exceed half an hour's length. It is always better to let your friends regret rather than desire »your withdrawal. On returning visits of ceremony you may, without impoliteness, leave your card at the door without going in. Do not fail, however, to inquire if the family bo well. Should there be daughters or sisters residing with tl. 3 lady upon whom you (-ill, you may turn down a corner of your card, to signify that the visit is paid to all. It is better taste, however, to leave cards for each. Unless when returning thanks for " kind inquiries," or announcing your arrival in, or departure from, town, it is not considered respectful to send round cards by a servant. Leave-taking cards have P.P.C (pour prendre cowje) written in the corner. Some use P.D.A. {imur dire adieu). Autographic fac-similes for visiting cards are aflectations in any persons but those who are personally remarkable for talent, and whose auto- graphs, or fac-similes of them, would be prized as curiosities. Visits of condolence are paid within the week after the event which occasions them. Personal visits of this kind are made by relations and very intimate friends only. Acquaintances should leave cards with nar- row mourning borders. On the first occasion when you are received by the family after the death of one of its vnembers, it is etiquette to jj/^ear slight mcuining. Uiiibrellas should invariably be left in the hall. Never take favourite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a morning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at the sight of ■-.- 1 "'*^/ sl^^K^vl? LKailUigg 'SlSS^i 242 THi: HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.EDIA. strangers, or, being of a too friendly disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady's gown, or jumping on the sofas and easy chairs. Where your friend has a favourite cat already established before the fire, a battle may ensue, and one or both of the pets be seriously hurt. Besides, many persons have a constitutional antipathy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the sitting-rooms. For all or any of these reasons, a visitor has no right to inflict upon her friend the society of her dog as well as of hi.'rself Neither is it well for a mother to take 3'oung childriMi with hor when she pays morning visics ; their presence, unless they are unusually well trained, can only be productive of anxiety to both your- self and your hostess. She, while striving to amuse them, or to appear interested in them, is secretly anxious for the fate of her album, or the ornaments on her etagere ; while the mother is trembling lest the children should say or do something objectionable. If other visitors are announced, and you have already remained as long as courtesy requires, wait till they are seated, and then rise from your chair, take leave of your hostess, and hovr politely to the newly arrived guests. You will, perhaps, be urged to remain, but having once risen, it is best to go. There is always a certain air of gaiicherie in resuming your seat and repeating the ceremony of leave-taking, If you have occasion to look at your w^atch dui'ing a call, ask permis- sion to do so, and apologize for it on the plea of other appointments. In receiving morning visitors, it is not necessary that the la ly should lay aside the employanent in which she may be engaged, particular!}' if it consists of light or ornamental needle-work. Politeness, however, re- quires that music, drawing, or any occupation which would completely engross the attention, be at once abandoned. You need not advance to receive visitors when announced, unless they are })ersons to whom you are desirous of testifying particular attention. It is sufficient if a lady rises to receive her visitors, moves forward a sin- gle step to shake hands with them, ar>d remains standing till they are seated. When your visitoi-s rise to take leave you should rise also, and remain standing till they have quite left the room. A lady should dres.s well, but not too richly, when she pays a morning visit. P CONVERSATION. o talent. Lonrr putants, cndeavoi topic. There is no conversation so graceful, so varied, so sparkling, as that of an intellectual and cultivated woman. Excellence in this particular is, CONVERSATION. inJeed, one of the attributes of the ,ex and , u , ^^^ jou are sure to be thoiu.ht nornn, ^^P'"' -^^^ «eed only listen , Be careful, however, on the -fJ. i, . .gnomnt of other topie,. ™ ""^ '""ks as if you thought them Remember in convenation »I t • other extraneous acqu,:, I' !lf ™-"S-"« -Jio^Vis above -1, certain distinct but subdued lone of" "',''"= '» — n." Thetel b-ed persons. A loud voice is both d " ^'^'"'^ ''^ l^""""'- '» onlv wel '-"• by the use of too C Z^^^ZlT', '"'' ">'=-■• I' "^ be" t Remember that all "slang " is v„ft "^ " '°™- aey ris"'to1r''t ': '^"'"^ ^'8""" conversation ■ , 1 use to the r.ink of witticism., «,.<. * "'"'"ation; and puns, unle.s5 1%-I>unster is a most unplealrnL ^' «<"^Pulously avoided 1 J^ong arguments in general com^n u pre,ent the conversation from dwelling l^ ^^^^ . »l>g,on is a topic which shm.l , = i' one ;■' *« one subject 'on wl h p "on, "'™' ^ '"'™^'"'^^ '""> society Jt '0 |-en-o temper. ""^""^ "'^ »-' "kely to differ, and le!!t abl, j^s^fa^rc :;'r rdf I , '^ "- ^- apt,y said «.. eif h f ^' f "• ^^'«" diking with a cotn ' '^"^'"''' ^^ "^t ahnos To tltV"' r'"f '''•^ P.-ogl '"'"''"'"°"' >- -- to thrustyour.' '■>'--l, .almost as great an art as to t.lk well If . ^^"- -tt IS not enough y 4^* ^ O' \.'' .f. A. V 244 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. J' m only to listen. You must endeavour to seem interested in the conversa- tion of otiiers. It is considered extremely ill bred when two persons whisper in society, or converse in a language with which all present are not familiar. If you have private matters to discuss, you should appoint a proper time and place to do so, without paying others the ill compliment of excluding them from your conversation. If a foreigner be one of the guests at a small party, and does not under- stand English sufficiently to follow what is said, good breeding demands ^ that the conversation shall be carried on in his own language. If at a dinner-party, the same rule applies to those at his end of the table. If upon the entrance of a visitor you carry on the thread of a prcviou.-; conversation, you should briefly recapitulate to him what has been said before he arrived. Do not be always witty, even though you should be so happily gifted as to need the caution. To outshine others on every occasion is the surest ^road to unpopularity. Always look, but never stare, at those with whom you converse. In order to meet the general needs of conversation in society, it is neces- sary that a gentlewoman should be acquainted with the current news and historical events of, at least, the last few years. Never talk upon subjects of which you know nothing, unless it be for the purpose of acquiring information. Many young ladies imagine that because they play a little, sing a little, draw a little, and frequent exhibi- tions and operas, they are qualified judges of art. No nnstake is more egregious or universal. Those who introduce anecdotes into their conversation arc warned that these should invariably be " short, witty, eloquent, new, and net far- fetched." Scandal is the least excusable of all conversational vulgarities. DEESS. To dress well requires something more than a full purse and a pretty figure. It needs taste, good sense, and refinement. Dress may almost be classed as one of the tine arts. It is certainly one of those arts the culti- vation of which is indispensable to any person moving in the upper or middle classes of society. Very clever women are too frequently inditi'erent to the graces of the toilette ; and women who wish to be thought clever affect indifference. In the one case it is an error, and in the other a folly- :4-^.-v- '""^'••^-<*''^"-*"" DRESS. 245 It is not enough that a gentlewomen should be clever, or well-educated, or well-born. To take her due place in society, she must be acquainted with all that this little book proposes to teach. She must, above all else, know liow to enter a room, how to perfoi-m a graceful salutation, and how to dress. Of these three important qualifications, the most important, because the most observed, is the latter. Let your style of dress always be appropriate to the hour of the day. To dress too finely in the morning, or to be seen in a morning dress in the evening, is equally vulgar and out of place. Light and inexpensive materials are fittest for morning wear ; dark silk dresses for the promenade or carriage ; and low dresses of rich or trans- parent stuffs for the dinner and ball. A young lady cannot dress with too much simplicity in the early part of the day. A morning dress of some simple material, and delicate whole colour, with collar and cuflTs of spotless linen, is, perhaps, the most becoming and elegant of morning toilettes. Never dress very richly or showily in the street. It attracts attention of no enviable kind, and is looked upon as a want of good breeding. In the carriage a lady may dress as elegantly as she pleases. With respect to ball-room toilette, its fashions are 3o variable, that statements which are true of it to-day may be false a month hence. Respecting no institu- tion of modern society, is it so difficult to pronounce half-a-dozen perma- nent rules. Vv^emay, perhaps, be permitted to suggest the following leading princi- ples ; but we do so with ditfidence. Rich colours harmonize with rich brnnette complexions and dark hair. Delicate colours are the most suita- ble for delicate and fragile styles of beauty. Very young ladies are never so suitably attired as in white. Ladies who dance should wear dresses of Hglit and diaphanous materials, such as tulle, gauze, crape, net, etc., over coloured silk slips. Silk dresses are not suitable for dancing. A married lady who dances only a few quadrilles may wear a decollete silk dress with propriety. Very stout persons should never wear white. It has the effect of adding to the bulk of the fimire. Black and scarlet, or black and violet, are worn in mourning. A lady in deep mourning should not dance at all. However fashionable it may be to wear very long dresses, those ladies who go to a ball with the intention of dancing, and enjoying the dance, should cause their dresses to be made short enough to clear the ground. »Ve would ask them whether it is not better to accept this slight deviation 24G THE HOMP:, farm and business CYCLOP.fJDIA. \/ ■ from an absurd fashion, than to appear for three parts of the evening in a torn and pinned-up skirt I Well-made shoes, whatever their colour or material, and faultless gloves, are indispensable to the effect of a ball-room toilette. Much jewellery is out of place ina ball-room. Beautiful flowers, whetlier natural or artiticial, are the loveliest ornaments that a lady can wear on these occasions. At small dinner parties, low dresses are not so indispensable as they were held to be some years since. High dresses of transparent materials, and low bodices with capes of black lace, are considered sufficiently full dress on these occasions. At large dinners only the fullest dress is appro- priate. Very young ladies should wear but little jewellery. Pearls are deemed most appropriate for the young and unmarried. Let your jewellery be always the best of its kind. Nothing is so vulgar, either in youth or in age, as the use of false ornaments. There is as much propriety to be observed in the wearing of jewellery as in the wearing of dresses. Diamonds, pearls, rubies, and all transparent precious stones, belong to evening dress, and should on no account be worn before dinner. In the morning let your rings be of the more simple and massive kind ; wear no bracelets; and limit your jewellery to a good brooch, gold chain, and watch. Your diamonds and pearls would be as much out of place during the morning as a low dress, or a wreath. It is well to remember in the choice of jewellery that mere costliness is not ab,vays the test of value ; and that an exquisite work of art, such as a line cameo, or a natural rarity, such as black pearl, is a more distinguee possession than a large brilliant which any rich and tasteless vulgarian can buy as easily as yourself. Of all precious stones, the opal is one of the most lovely and least common-place. No vulgar woman purchases an opal. She invariably prefers the more £;howy ruby, emerald, or sapphire. A true gentlewoman is always faultlessly neat. No richness of toilette in the afternoon, no diamonds in the evening, can atone for unbrushed hair, a soiled collar, or untidy slippers at breakfast. Never be seen in the street without gloves. Your gloves should fit to the last degree of perfection. In these days of public baths and universal progress, we trust that it is unnecessary to do more than hint at the necessity of the most fastidious personal cleanliness. The hair, the teeth, the nails, should be faultlessly kept ; and a muslin dress that has bee.n worn once too often, a dingy pocket-handkerchief, or a soiled pair of light gloves, are things to be scru- MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 247 pulously avoided by any young lady who is ambitious of preserving the exterior of a gentlewoman. Remember that the make of your corsage is of even greater importance than the make of your dress. No dressmaker can fit you well, or make your bodices in the manner most becoming to your figure, if the corsage beneath be not of the best description. Your shoes and gloves should always be faultless. Perfumes should be used only in the evening, and then in moderation. Let your perfumes be of the most delicate and recherche kind. Nothing is more vulgar ihan a coarse, ordinary scent ; and of all coarse ordinary scents, the most objectionable are musk and patchouli. Finally, every lady should remember that to dress well is a duty which she owes to society ; but that to make it her idol is to commit sometliing worse than a folly. Fashion is made for woman ; not woman for fashion. MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. The morning party is a modei-n invention. It was unknown to our fa- thers and raothei ^ and even to ourselves till quite lately. A morning party is given during the months of June, July, August, September, and sometimes October. It begins about two o'clock and ends about seven, and the entertainment consists for the most part of conversation, music, and (if there be a garden) croquet, lawn tennis, archery, etc. The refresh- ments are given in the form o( •AclejeLlner a la fonrchctte. Receptions are held during the winter season. Elegant morning dress, general good manners, and some acquaintance with the topics of the day and the games above named, are all the qualifi- catioas especially necessary to a lady at a morning party, and " At Homes," music and elocution at receptions. An evening party begins about nine o'clock p. m., and ends about mid- night, or somewhat later. Good-breeding neither demands that you should present yourself at the commencement, nor remain till the close of the evening. You come and go as may be most convenient to you, and by these means are at liberty, during the height of the season when even- ing parties are numerous, to present yourself at two or three houses during a single evening. When your name is announced, look for the lady of the house, and pay your respects to her before you even seem to see any other of your friends who may be in the room. At very large and fashionable receptions, the hostess is generally to be found near the door. Should you, however, find V .%. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // if.r i.-! {./ V. ^t wj. C/i y.. ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■ 5 '""^^ va |12 I4£ IM 2.2 2.0 Ijjm U_ IIIIII.6 y (^ /i ^1 % ^'^ > y V f^^ 248 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.-EDTA. yourself separated by a dense crowd of guests, you are a-t liberty to recog- nise those who are near you, and those whom you encounter as you make your way slowly through the throng. If you are at the house of a new acquaintance and find yourself among entire strangers, remember that by so meeting under one roof you are all in a certain sense made known to one another, and should, therefore, con- verse freely as equals. To shrink away to a side-table and affect to bo absorbed in some album or illustrated work ; or, if you find one unlucky acquaintance in the room to fasten upon her like a drowning rnan clinging to a spar, are gaucheries which no shyness can excuse. If you possess any musical accomplishment, do not wait to be pressed and entreatod by your hostess, but comply immediately when she pays you the compliment of inviting you to play or sing. Remember, however, that only the lady of the house has the right to ask you. If others do so, you can put them off" in some pclite way, but must not comply till tlic hostess herself invites j^ou. Be scrupulous to observe silence when any of the company are playing or singing. Remember that they are doing this for the amusement of the rest ; and that to talk at such a time is as ill-bred as if you were to turn your back upon a person who was talking to you and begin a conversation with some one else. If you are yourself the performer, bear in mind that in music, as in speech, " brevity is the soul of wit." Two verses of a song, or four pages of a piece, are at all times enough to give pleasure. If your audience de- sire more they will ask for it ; and it is infinitely more flattering to be encored than to receive the thanks of your hearers, not so nmch in grati- tude for what you have give» them, but in reliet that you have left off. You should try to suit your music, like your conversation, to your com- pany. A solo of Beethoven's would be as much out of place in some circles as a comic song at a Quakers' meeting. To those who only care for the light popularities of the season, give Verdi, Supp^, Sullivan, or Offenbach. To connoisseurs, if you perform well enough to venture, give such music as will be likely to meet the exigencies of a fine taste. Ahovj all, attempt nothing that you cannot execute with ease and precision. If the party be of a small and social kind and those games called by the French les jeux innocents are proposed, do not object to join in them when invited. It may be that they demand some slight exercise of wit antl readiness, and that you do not feel yourself calculated to shine in them ; but it is better to seem dull than disagreeable, and laose who are obliging THE DINNER-PARTY. 249 can always find some clever neighbour to assist them in the moment of need. Impromptu charades are frequently organized at friendly parties. Un- less you have really some talent for acting and some readiness of speech, you should remember that you onl}' put others out and expose your own inability by taking part in these entertainments. Of course, if your help is really needed, and you would disoblige by refusing, you must do your hest, and by doing it as quietly and coolly as possible, avoid being awk- ward or ridiculous. Even though you may take no pleasure in cards, some knowledge of the etiquette and rules belonging to the games most in vogue is necessary to you in society. If a fourth hand is wanted at euchre, or if the rest of the company sit down to a round game, you would be deemed guilty of an impoliteness if you refused to join. The games most commonly played in society are euchre, draw-poker, and whist. THE DIMEE-PARTY. To be acquainted with every detail of the etiquette pertaining to this subject is of the highest importance to every lady. Ease, savoir-faire, and good- breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the dinner- table, and the absence of them is nowhere more apparent. How to eat soup and what to do with a cherry-stone ai-e weighty considerations when taken as the index of social status ; and it is r:ot too much to say, that a young woman who elected to take clarec with her fish, or ate peas with her knife, would justly risk the punishment of being banished from good .society. An invitation to dinner should be replied to immediately, and unequiv- ocally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause you to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual is the strictest politeness on these occasions. If you are too early you are in the way ; if too late you spoil the dinner, annoy the hostess, and are hated by the rest of the guests. Some author- ities are even of opinion that in the question of a dinner party " never " is better than " late ;" and one author has gone so far as to say, " if you do not reach the house till dinner is served, you had better retire, and send an apology, and not interrupt the harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptance." When the party is assembled, the mistress or master of the house will point out to each gentleman the lady whom he is to conduct to the table. I/' V II 250 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. The lady who is the greatest stranger should be taken down by the master of the house, and the gentleman who is the greatest stranger .should conduct the hostess. Married ladies take precedence of single ladies, elder ladies of younger ones, and so forth. When dinner is announced, the host offers his arm to the lady of most distinction, invites the rest to follow by a few words or a bow, and leads the way. The lady of the house should then follow with the gentleman who is most entitled to that honour, and the visitors follow in the order that has been previously arranged. The lady of the house frequently re- main.s, however, till the last, that she may see her guests go in their prescribed order ; but the plan is not a convenient one. It is much better that the hostess should be in her place as the guests enter the dining-room in order that she may indicate their seats to them as they enter, and not find them all crowded together in uncertainty when .she arrives. The plan of cards, with the names of the guests on them, opposite their chaii-s, is a verj- useful one. The lady of the house takes the head of the table. The gentleman who led her down to dinner occupies the seat on her right hand, and the gentleman next in order of precedence, that on her left. The master of the house takes the foot of the table. The lady whom he escorted sits on his right hand, and the lady next in order of precedence on his left. As soon as you are seated at table, remove your gloves, place your table napkin across your knee, and remove the roll which you will probably find within to the left side of your plate. The soup should be placed on the table first. All well-ordered dinners begin with soup, whether in summer or winter. The lady of the house should help it, and send it round without asking t ach individual in turn. It is as much an understood thing as the bread beside each plate, and those who do not choose it are always at liberty to leave it untasted. In eating soup, remember always to take it from the side of the spoon, and to make no sound in doins: so. If the servants do not go round with wine, the gentlemen should help the ladies and themselves to sherry or sauterne immediately after the soup. You should never }isk for a second supply of either soup or fish ; it de- lays the next course, and keeps the table waiting. Never offer to " assist " your neighbours to this or that dish. The word is inexpressible vulgar — all the more vulgar for its affectation of elegance. " Shall I send you some mutton ? " or " may I help you to canvas back ?" is better chosen and better bred. THE riNNER-PARTY. 251 As a general rule, it is better not to ask your guests if they will partake of the dishes ; but to send the plates round, and let them accept or decline tlieni as they please. At very large dinners it is sometimes customary to distribute little lists of the order of the dishes at intervals alonj; the table. It must be confessed that this gives somewhat the air of a dinner at an liotel ; but it has the advantage ot enabling the visitors to select their fare^ and, as " forewarned is forearmed," to keep a corner, as the children say for their favourite dishes. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat ; or, if the viands are too hot for your palate, take up your knife and fork and appear to begin. To wait for others is now not only old-fashioned, but ill-bred. Never offer to pass on the plate to which you have been helped. In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Silver fish knives will now always be met with at the best tables ; but where there are none, a piece of crust should be taken in the left hand,, and the fork in the right. There is no exception to this rule in eating fish. We presume it is scarcely necessary to remind our fair reader that she is never, under any circumstances, to convey her knife to her mouth* Peas are eaten with the fork ; tarts, curry, and puddings of all kinds with the spoon. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus-tongs. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others do, and act ac- cordingly. Some very well-bred people eat it with the fingers ; others cut off' the heads, and convey them to the mouth upon the fork. It would be difficult to say which is the more correct. In eating stone fruit, such as cherries, damsons, etc., the same rule had better be observed. Some put the stones out from the mouth into a spoon and so convey them to the plate. Others cover the lips with the hand, drop them unseen into the palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. In our own opinion, the latter is the better way, as it effectually conceals the return of the stones, which is certainly the point of highest importance. Of one thing we may be sure, and that is, that they must never be dropped from the mouth to the plate. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate. If the servants do not go round with the wine (which is by far the best custom) the gentlemen at a dinner-table should take upon themselves the office of helping those ladies who sit near them. 252 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremely uncivil to decline taking wine if you are invited to do so. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions. Certain wines are taken with certain dishes, by old-established custom — as sherry or sauterne, with soup and fish ; hock and claret with roast meat ; punch with turtle ; champagne with sweet-bread or cutlets ; port with venison ; port or burgundy with game ; sparkling wines between the roast and the confectionery ; madeira with sweets ; port with cheese ; and for dessert, port, tokay, m.adeira, sherry, and claret. Red wines should never be iced, even in summer. Claret and burgundy should always be slightly warmed ; claret-cup and champagne should, of course, be iced. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice-pail, some hosts introduce clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. This cannot be too strictly reprehended. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and fiavour of the wine. Those who desire to drink ivine anO VJater can ask for iced water if they choose ; but it savors too much of economy on the part of a host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle. A silver knife and fork should be placed to each guest at dessert. It is wise never to partake of any dish without knowing of what in- gredients it is connposed. You can always ask the servant who hands it to you, and you thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the impo- liteness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Never speak while you have anything in your mouth. Be careful never to taste soups or pudditigs till you are sure they are sufficiently cool ; as, by disregarding this caution, 3'ou may be compelled to swallo 7 what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardonable alternative of returning it to your plate. When eating or drinking, avoid every kind of audible testimony to the fact. Finger-glasses, containing water slightly warmed and perfumed, are placed to each person at dessert. In these you may dip the tips of your fingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the finger-glass and doyley are placed on your dessert-plate, you should immediately remove the doyley to the left of your plate, and place the finger-glass upon it. By these means you leave the right for the wine-glasses. Be careful to know the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses com- monly in use, in order that you may never put forward one for another. THE DINNER-PARTY. 2o'^ High and narrow, and very broad and shallow glasses, are used for chatn- l)agne ; large goblet-shaped glasses for burgundy and claret ; ordinary wine-glasses for sherry and madeira ; green glasses for hock ; and some- what large, bell-shaped glasses for port. Port, sherry, and madeira are decanted, iiocks and champagnes appear in their native bottles. Claret and burgundy are handed round in a claret - The servants leave the room when the dessert is on the table. Coffee and liqueurs should be handed round when the dessert has been about a quarter of an hour on the table. After this the ladies generally retire. The lady of the house should never send away her plate, or appear to have done eating, till all her guests have finished. If you should unfortunately overturn or break anything, do not apolo- gize for it. You can show your regret in 3'our face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words. To abstain from taking the last piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It implies a fear on your part that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost, conv ys an affront to your host. To those ladies who have houses and servants at command, we have one or two remarks to offer. Every housekeeper should be acquainted with the routine of a dinner and the etiquette of a dinner-table. No lady should be utterly dependent on the taste and judgment of her cook. Though she need not know hov/ to dress a dish, she should bo able to judge of it when served. The mistress of the house, in short, should be to a cook what a publisher is to his authors — that is to say, competent to form a judgment upon their works, though himself incapable of writing even a magazine article. If you wish to have a good dinner, and do not know in what manner ta set about it, you will do wisely to order it from some first-rate restaura- teur. By these means you insure the best cookery and a faultless carte. Boar in mind that it is your duty to entertain your friends in the best manner that your means permit. This is the least you can do to recom- pense them for the expenditure of time and money which they incur in accepting your invitation. " To invite a friend to dinner," says Brillat Savarin, " is to become res- ponsible for his happiness so long as he is under your roof." A dinner, to be excellent, need not consist of a great variety of dishes ; but everything should be of the best, and the cookery should be perfect. 254 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. That which should be cool should be cool as ice ; that which should be hot should be smoking ; the attendance should be rapid and noiseless ; the guests well assorted ; the wines of the best quality ; the host attentive and courteous ; the room well lighted, and the time punctual. Every dinner should begin with soup, be followed by fish, and include some kind of game. " The soup is to the dinner," we are told by Grisnod de la Regniere, " what the portico is to a building, or the overture to an opera." To this aphorism we may be permitted to add that a chasse of cognac or curagoa at the close of a dinner is like the epilogue at the end of a comedy. Never reprove or give directions to your servants before guests. If y asking permission from the lady who presides at the urn. Alwajs hold yourself at the disposal of those in whose house you are visiting. If they propose to ride, drive, walk, or otherwise occupy the day, you may take it for granted that these plans are made with reference to your enjoyment. You should, therefore, receive them with cheerfulness, enter into them with alacrity, and do your best to seem pleasad, and be pleased, by the efforts which your friends make to entertain you. You should never take a book from the library to your own room with- out requesting permission to borrow it. When it is lent, you should take every care that it sustains no injury while in your possession, and should cover it, if necessary. A guest should endeavour to amuse herself as much as possible, and not be continually dependent on her hosts for entertainment. She should remember that, however welcome shemay be, she is not always wanted. A visitor should avoid giving unnecessary trouble to the servants of the house. The signal for retiring to rest is generally given by the appearance of the servant with wine, water, and biscuits, where a late dinner hour is observed, and suppers are not the custom. This is the last refreshment of the evening, and the visitor will do well to rise and wish good night shortly after it has been partaken of by the family. GENERAL HINTS. Do not frequently repeat the name of the person with whom you are conversing. It implies either the extreme of hauteur or familiarity. Never speak of absent persons by only their Christian or surnames; but always as Mr. , or Mrs. . Above all, never name anybody by the first letter of his name. Married people are sometimes guilty of this flagrant offence against taste. Look at those who address you. Never boast of your birth, your money, your grand friends, or anything that is yours. If you have travelled, do not introduce that information into your conversation at every opportunity. Any one can travel with money and leisure. The real distinction is to come home with enlarged views, improved tastes, and a mind free from prejudice. If you present a book to a friend, do not write his or her name in it, unless requested. You have no right to presume that it will be rendered 256 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.-EDIA. any the more valuablo for that addition ; and you ought not to conclude beforehand that your gift will be accepted. Never undervalue the gift which you are yourself offering ; you have no business to offer it if it is valueless. Neither say that you do not want it yourself, or that you should throw it aw.ay if it were not accepted, etc., etc. Such apologies wovdd be insults if true, and mean nothing if false. No compliment that bears insincerity on the face of it, is a compliment at all. Presents made by a married lady to a gentleman can only l)e offered in the joint names of her husband and herself. Married ladies may occasionally accept presents from gentlemen wlio visit frequently at their houses, and who desire to show their sense of tin- hospitality which they receive there. Ackn^^wledge the receipt of a present without delay. Give a foreigner his name in full, as Monsieur de Vigny — never as Mon- sieur only. In speaking of him, give him his title, if he has one. Converse with a foreigner in his own language. If not competent to do so, apologize, and beg permission to speak English. To get in and out of a carriage gracefully is a simple but important accomplishment. If there is but one step, and you are going to take the seat facing the horses, put your left foot on the step, and enter the carri- age with your right, in such a manner as to drop at once into your seat. If you are about to sit with your back to the horses, reverse the process. As you step into the carriage, be careful to keep your back towards the seat you are about to occupy, so as to avoid the awkwardness of turning when you are once in. wvX 'ANGLING.' y ^\ assumes that th Never «ion to dc Wlien introduced P^'isons introdiieec iwiplies i),c( acquaiutet It' you joined by_ tliem to ea encountere( Tliere a)-( ^^ evening- introduce ; mission. J J ^ance; and wise be ref , ^' te only fo Q J? (Etiquette fou Gentlemen, ►♦•- cr^np '^ INTRODUCTIONS. *0 introduce persons who are mutually unknown is to under- take a serious responsibility, and to certify to each the respectability of tlie otlusr. Never undertake tliis respon- sibility without in the first place asking yourself whether the persons arc likely to be agreeable to each other ; nor, in the second place, without ascertaining whe«:her it will be acceptable to both parties to become acciuainted. Always introduce the gentleman to the lady — never the lady to the gentleman. The chivalry of etiquette assumes that the lady is invariably the su[>erior in right of her sex. and that the gentleman is honoured by the introduction. Never present a gentleman to a lady without first asking her permis- sion to do so. When you are iiitroduced to a lady, never offer your hand. When introduced, persons limit their recognition of each other with a bow. Persons who have met at the house of a mutual friend without being introduced, should not bow if they afterwards meet elsewhere ; a bow implies acquaintance, and persons who have not been introduced are not aciiuaiuted. If you are walking with one friend, and presently meet with, or are joined by, a second, do not commit the too frequent error of introducing them to each other. You have even less right to do so than if they encountered each other at your house during a morning call. There are some exceptions to the etiquette of introductions. At a ball or evening party, where there is dancing, the mistress of the house may introduce any gentleman to any lady without first asking the lady's per- mission. But she should first ascertain whether the lady is willing to (lance ; and this out of consideration for the gentleman, who may other- wise be refused. No man likes to be refused the hand of a lady, though it be only for a quadrille. 2o8 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. A. brother may present his sister, or a father his son, without any kind of preUniinary : but only when there is no inferiority on the part of his own family to that of the aetjuaintance. Friends may introduce friends at the house of a mutual acfjuaintance, but, as a rule, it is better to be introduced by the mistress of the house. Such an introduction carries more authority with it. Introductions at evening parties are now almost wholly dispensed with. Persons who meet at a friend's house aie ostensibly upon an equality, and pay a bad compliment to the host by appearing suspicious and formal. Some old-fashioned country hosts yet persevere in introducing each new- comer to all the a.ssembled g lests. It is a custom that cannot l)c too soon abolished, and one that places the last unfortunate visitor in a singularly awkward position. All that he can do is to make a semicircular bow, like a concert singer before an audience, and bear the general gaze with as much composure as possible. If, when entering the drawing-room, your name has been wrongly announced, or has passed unheard in the buzz of conversation, make your way at once to tlie mistress of the house, if you are a stranger, and intro- duce yourself by name. This should be done with the greatest simi)lie- ity, and your professional or titular rank made as little of as possible. An introduction given at a ball for the mere purpose' of conducting u lady through a dance does not give the gentleman any right to bow to her on a future occasion. If he commits this error, he must remember that she is not bound to see or return his salutation. LETTEES OF INTEODUOTION. Do not lightly give or promise letters of introduction. Always remem- ber that when you give a letter of introduction you lay yourself under an obligation to the friend to whom it is addressed. No one delivers a letter of introduction in person. It places you in the most undignified position imaginable, and compels you to wait while it is being read, like a footman who has been told to wait for an answer. If, on the other hand, a stranger sends you a letter of introduction and his card, you are bound by the laws of politeness and hospitality, not only to call upon him the next day, but to follow up that attention with others, If you are in a position to do so, the most correct proceeding is to invite liim to dine with you. Should this not be within your power, you havej probably the entree to some private collections, club-houses, theatres, or reading-rooms, and could devote a few hours to showing him thesi[ places. 7' "I oiui '■^vise w, '»"«t nj v'sir™a-Moum.voc.,,,s_cARM. -"■...O-UARDS A l>'ttei- of introduction «1,. i i ■ 259 your fnonci n,ay ,visl „ • , ^ ^'^•'"' "■•■*»lo,l, not alo,. , ':'- ^- e„i :;: ■ s:;;^ - ;• a« yo„ ,,o ,i t '; ; ;; ; - as » :s -;t;'" -=■= ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ e VJMC .SllOllla ?)P j^oiM 1 1 J™.:::;; e»' ■•«"- s.';: 'KSir-- '-• '"^'louMthere hp ^o w ^'^r, to inquire ^t.ue-tak,ng cards have PPP ^ 260 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. .;:;ir Hit.'. ill should be held gracefully in the hand. If you are compelled to lay it aside put it on the floor. Umbrellas should invariably be left in the hall. Never take favourite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a mor- ning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at the sight of strangers, or, being of too friendly a disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady's gown, or jumping on the sofas and easy chairs. Where your friend has a favourite cat already established before the fire, a battle may ensue, and one or both of the pets be seriously hurt. Besides, many persons have a constitutional antipathy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the sitting-rooms. For all or any of those reasons, a visitor has no right to inflict upon his friend the society of his dog as well as of himself. If, when you call upon a lady, you meet a lady visitor in her drawing- room, you should rise when that lady takes her leave. If other visitors are announced, and you have already remained as long as courtesy requires, wait till they are seated, and then rise from your chair, take leave of your hostess, and bow politely to the newly-arrived guests. You will, perhaps, be urged to remain, but, having once risen, it is always best to go. There is always a certain air of gaucherie in resum- ing your seat and repeating the ceremony of leave-taking. If you have occasion to look at your watch during a call, ask permis- sion to do so, and apologize for it on the plea of other appointments. CONVERSATION. Let your conversation be adapted as skilfully as may be to your com- pany. Some men make a point of talking commonplace to all ladies alike, as if a woman could only be a trifler. Others, on the contrary, for- get in what respects the education of a lady differs from that of a gentle- man, and commit the opposite error of conversing on topics with which ladies are seldom acquainted. A woman of sense has as much right to he annoyed by the one, as a lady of ordinary education by the other. You cannot pay a finer compliment to a woman of refinement and esprit than by leading the conversatio^i into such a channel as may mark your appre- ciation of her superior attainments. In talking with ladies of ordinary education, avoid political, scientific or commercial topics, and choose only such subjects as are likely to be of interest to them. Remember that people take more interest in their own affairs than in anything else which you can name. If you wish your conversation to be tho of i exh and sibJe Bt taJki: show verse theia Do gizing other presenc out of ] Thei-( to only ft i.s bet Remei ^0 noi ■^■"•iipuJo Lr putants, ^-'ndeavou topic. Koligio *ho one s ^0 pi-eserv ^'cver i To list enough or ^'onversati, ft is CO or convez-,s( Pnvai liave pJace to then} f, If ojh a foi stand E eiJ iffJi CONVERSATION. 261 thoroughly agreeable, lead a mother to talk of her children, a young lady of her last ball, an author of his forthcoming book, or an artist of his exhibition picture. Having fiu-nished the topic, you need only listen and you are sure to be thougho not only agreeable but thoroughly sen- sible and well-informed. Be careful, however, on the other hand, not always to make a point of talking to persons upon general matters relating to their professions. To show an interest in their immediate concerns is flattering ; but to con- verse with them too much about their own arts looks as if you thought them ignorant of other topics. Do not use a classical quotation in the presence of ladies without apolo- gizing for, or translating, it. Even this should onl}' be done when no other phrase would so aptly express your meaning. Whether in the presence of ladies or gentlemen, much display of learning is pedantic and out of place. There is a certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which is peculiar to only well-bred persons. A loud voice is both disagreeable and vulgar. It is better to err by the use of too low rather than too loud a tone. Remember that all " slang " is vulgar. Do not pun. Puns unless they rise to the rank of witticisms, are to be .scrupulously avoided. Long arguments in general company, however entertaining to the dis- putants, are tiresome to the last degree to all others. You should always endeavour to prevent the conversation from dwelling too long upon one topic. Religion is a topic which should never be introduced in society. It is the one subject on which persons are most likely to differ, and least able to preserve temper. Never interrupt a person who is speaking. To listen well, is almost as great an art as to talk well. It is not enough only to listen. You must endeavour to seem interegted in the conversation of others. It is considered extremely ill-bred when persons whisper in soci'' or converse in a language in which all present are not familiar. If have private matters to discuss you should appoint a proper time and place to do so, without paying others the ill compliment of excluding them from your conversation. It a foreigner be one of the guests at a small party, and does not under- stand Engli.sh sutficiently to follow what is said, good-breeding demands 262 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. that th 3 conversation shall be carried on in his own language. If at a dinner party, the same rule applies to those at his end of the table. If upon the entrance of a visitor you carry on the thread of a previous conversation, you should brietiy recapitulate to hirn what has been said before he arrived. Always look, but never stare, at those with whom you converse. In order to meet the general needs of conversation in society, it is necessary that a man should be well acquainted with the current news and historical events of at least the last few years. Never talk upon subjects of which you know nothing, unless it be for the purpose of acquiring information. Many young men imagine that because they frequent exhibitions and operas they are qualified judges of art. No mistake is more egregious or universal. Those who introduce anecdotes into their conversation ai'e warned that these should invariably be " short, witty, eloquent, new, and not far- fetched." Scandal is the least excusable of all conversational vulgarities. In conversing with a man of rank, do not too frequently give him liis title. THE PROMENADE. A well-bred man must entertain no respect for the l)rim of his hat. " A bow," says La Fontaine, " is a note drawn at sight." You are bound to acknowledge it immediately, and to the full amount. True politeness demands that the hat should be quite lifted from the head. On meeting friends with whom you are likely to shake hands remove your hat with the left hand in order to leave the right hand free. If you meet a lady in the street whom you are sufficiently intimate to address, do not stop her, but turn round and walk beside her in which- ever direction she is going. When you have said all that you wish to say, you can take your leave. If you meet a lady with whom you are not particularly well acquainted, wait for her recognition before you venture to bow to her. In bowing to a lady whom you are not going to address, lift your hat with that hand which is farthest from her. For instance, if you pass her on the right side, use your left hand ; if on the left, use your right. If you are on horseback and wish to conveise witli a lady who is on foot, you must dismount and lead your horse, so as not to give her the fatigue of looking up to your leval. Neither should you subject her to the impropriety of carrying on a conversation in a tone necessarily louder than is sanctioned in public by the laws of good breeding. W tion.s Joutll the s( inter] In hook 1 Age he obse for one. that thi niony, u yon, " ^ a 'ess Jia that Mr. that he w «J'y in mi ^^'ise nianl and seek the stud i: To be tc ^0 really fashion-bo fn the n Sers of Jirrj, In the c.\ onJy bJaek, visitors. J ol'sei-vance ^'■"« gentler ^'oi" eveni J^ack trouse ^'^ Shoves, a ''' full dress, ^et your j ^vear it very ri] ^and.soine P''Opriety. DRESS. 263 When you meet fi-iends or acquaintances in the streets, at the exhibi- tions, or p.ny public places, take care not to pronounce their names so loudly as to attract the attention of the passers-by. Never call across the street ; and never carry on a dialoj^ue in a public vehicle, unless your interlocutor occupies the seat beside your own. In walking with a lady take charge of any small parcel, parasol, or book with which she may be encumbered. DRESS. A gentleman should always be so well dressed that his dres3 shall never be observed at all. Docs this sound like an enigma ? It is not meant for one. It only implies that perfect simplicity is perfect elegance, and that the true test of taste in the toilet of a gentleman is its entire har- mony, unobtrusiveness, and becomingness. If any friend should say to you, " What a hand.some waistcoat you have on ! " you may depend that a leas handsome waistcoat would be in better taste. If you hear it said that Mr. So and-So wears superb jewellery, you may conclude beforehand that he wears too much. Display, in short, is ever to be avoided, especi- ally in matters of dress. The toilet is the domain of the fair sex. Let a wise man leave its graces and luxuries to his wife, daughters, or sisters, and seek to be himself appreciated for something of higher worth than the stud in his shirt or the trinkets on his chain. To be too much in the fashion is as vulgar as to be too far behind it. No really well-bred man follows every new cut that he sees in his tailor's fashion-book. In the morning wear frock coats, double-breasted waistcoats, and trou- sers of lijjht or dark colours, Jiccordinsf to the season. In the evening, though only in the bosom of your own fandly, wear only black, and be as scrupulous to put on a dress coat as if you expected visitors. If you have sons, bring them up to do the .same. It is the observance of these minor trifles in domestic etiquette which marks the true gentleman. For evening parties, dinner parties, and balls, wear a black dress coat, black trousers, black silk or cloth waistcoat, white cravat, white or grey kid gloves, an-l thin patent leather boots. A black cravat may be worn in full dress, but is not so elegant as a white one. Let your jewellery be of the best, but the least gaudy description, and wear it very sparingly. \ single stud, a gold watch and guard, and one handsome ring, are as many ornaments as a gentleman can wear with propriety. 2C4 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. It is well to remember in the choice of jewellery that mere costliness is not always the test of value ; and that an exquisite work of art, such as a fine cameo, or a natural rarity, such as a black pearl, is a more dis- tingue possession than a large brilliant, which any rich and tasteless vul- garian can buy as easily as youi'self. For a ring, the gentleman of fine taste would prefer a precious antique intaglio to the handsomest diamond or ruby that could be bought at Tifi'any's. Of all precious stones, the opal is one of the most lovely and the least commonplace. No vulgar man purchases an opal. He invariably i)refers the more showy diamond, ruby, sapphire, or emerald. Unless you are a snufF-taker, never carry any but a white pocket- handkerchief. In the morning you wear a long cravat fastened by a pin, be careful to avoid what may be called alliteration of colour. We have seen a tur- quoise pin worn in a violet-coloured cravat, and the effect was frightful. Choose, if possible, complementary colours, and their secondaries. For instance, if the stone in your pin be torquoise, wear it with brown, or crimson mixed with black, or black and orange. If a ruby, contrast it with shades of green. The same rule holds good with regard to the mix- ture and contrast of colours in your waistcoat and cravat. Thus, a buff waistcoat and blue tie, or brown and blue, or brown and green, or brown and magenta, green and magenta, green and mauve, are all good arrange- ments of colour. Coloured shirts may be worn in the morning, but they should be small in pattern and quiet in colour. In these days of public baths and universal progress, we trust that it is unnecessary to do more than hint at the necessity of the most fastidious personal cleanliness. The hair, the teeth, the nails, should be faultlessly kept ; and a soiled shirt, a dingy pocket-handkerchief, or a light waist- coat that has been worn once too often, are things to be scrupulously avoided by any man who is ambitious of preserving the exterior of a gentleman. EIDING AND DRIVING. Riding, as in walking, give the lady the wall. If you assist a lady to mount, hold your hand at a convenient distance from the ground that she may place her foot in it. As she springs, you aid her by the impetus of your hand. In doing this, it is always better to agree ui)on a signal, that her spring and your assistance may come at the same moment. MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 2G5 For this purpose there is no better form than the old duelling one of " one, two, three." When tiie lady is in the saddle, it is your place to find the stirrup for her, and guide her left foot to it. When this is done, she rises in her seat and you assist her to draw her habit straight. Kven when a groom is present, it is more polite for the gentleman him- self to perform this office for his fair companion ; as it would be more polite for him to hand her a chair than to have it h when invited. It may be that they demand some slight exercise of wit and readiness, and that you do not feel yourself calculated to shine in them ; but it is better to seem dull than disagreeable, and those who are obliging can always find some clever neighbour to a.ssist them in the moment of need. The game of " consequences " is one whicli unfortunately gives too much scope to liberty of expression. If you ynn in this game,, we cannot too earnestly enjoin you never to write down one word which the most pure-minded woman present might not read aloud without a blush. Jests of an equivocal character are not only vulgar, but con- toinptible. Impromptu chai'ades are frequently organized at friendly parties. Unless you have really some talent for acting and some readiness of speech,, you should remember that you only put others out and expose your own inability by taking part in these entertainments. Of course, if 3'our help is really needed and you would disoblige by refusing, you must do your best, and by doing it as quietly and coolly as possible, avoid being awk- ward or ridiculous. Should an impromptu polka or quadrille be got up after supper at a party where no dancing was intended, be sure not to omit putting on gloves before you stand up. It is well always to have a pair of white gloves in your pocket in case of need ; but even black are better under these circumstances than none. Even though you may take no pleasure in cards, some knowledge of the eti(iuette and rules belonging to the games most in vogue is necessary ta you in society. Never let even politeness induce you to play for high stakes. Etiquette is the minor morality of life ; but it never should be allowed to outweigh the higher code of right and wrong. Be scrupulous to observe silence when any of the company are playing or singing. Remember that they are- doing this for the amusement of the rest ; and that to talk at such a time is as ill-bred as if you were to tiu-n your back upon a person who was talking to you, and begin a conversa- tion with someone else. If you are yourself the performer, bear in mind that in music, as in speech, " brevity is the soul of wit." Two verses of a song, or four pages of a piece, are at all times enough to give pleasure. If your audience desire more they will ask for it ; and it is infinitely more flattering to be encored than to receive the thanks of your hearers, not so much in grati- 208 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. M tude for what you have given them, but in relief that you have left off. You should try to suit your music, like your conversation, to your com- pany, A solo of Beethoven's would be as much out of place in some circles as a comic song at a Quaker's meeting. To those who only care for the light popularities of the season, give Verdi. To connoisseurs, if you perform well enough to venture, give such music as will bo likely to meet the exigencies of a fine taste. Above all, attempt nothing that you cannot execute with ease and precision. In retiring from a crowded party it is unncviessary that you should seek out the hostess for the purpose of bidding her a formal good-night. By •doing this you would, perhaps, remind others that it was getting late, and cause the party to break up. If you meet the lady of the house on your way to the drawing-room door, take your leave of her as unobstrusively as possible, and slip away without attracting the attention of her other guests. THE DINNER TABLE. To be acquainted with every detail of the eti(iuette pertaining to this subject is of the highest importance to every gentleman. Ease, savoir Jaire, and good-breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the din- ner-table, and the absence of them is nowhere more apparent. An invitation to dine should be replied to immediately, and unequivo- ■cally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause 3'ou to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual is the strictest politeness on these occasions. If you are too early, you are in the way ; if too late, you spoil the dinner, annoy the hostess, and are hated by the rest of the guests. Some auth- orities are even of opinion that in the question of a dinner party, " never" is better than " late " ; and one author has gone so far as to say, " if you do not reach the house till dinner is served, you had better retire to a ■restaurateur's, and thence send an apology, and not interrupt the har- mony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptance" When the party is assembled, the mistress or master of the house will point out to each gentleman the lady whom he is to conduct to the table. If she be a stranger, you had better seek an introduction ; if a previous acquaintance, take care to be near her when the dinner is announced ; offer your arm, and go down according to precedence. This order of pre- cedence must be arranged by the host or hostess. When the dinner is announced, the host offers his arm to the lady of most distinction, invites the rest to follow by a few words or a bow, ana leads t tiemar order t the hoi guests I one. I f,'ue.sts ( to them tainty v of the It The n by the flags, an( too niam lowed to number c The Li( Jed her d( tlenian ne Jiou.se tak ngJithan( The ger Jier of the gate the d to dinner To offer to pardonable A-s soon table napk: aWy within The soup In eating and to mak If the ser 'adies and tl You shoi delays the Never IS inexpressi THE DINNER TABLE. 26D leiuls the way. Tlie lady of the house should then follow with the gen- tleman who is most entitled to that honour, and the visitors follow in the- order that the master of the house lias previously arranged. The lady of tliL' house frequently remains however, till the last, that she may see her guests go down in the prescribed order ; but the plan is not a convenient one. It is much better that the hostess should be in hor place as the guests enter the dining-room, in order that she may indicate their seats- to them as they come in, and not find them all crowded together in uncer- tainty when she arrives. If cards with names are on the table seek that of the lady whom you liave taken to dinner. The number of guests at a dinner-party should always be determined by the size of the table. When the party is too small, conversation flags, and a general air of desolation pervades the table. When they are- too many, everyone is inconvenienced. A space of two feet should be al- lowed to each person. It is well to arrange a party in such wise that th& number of ladies and gentlemen be equal. The lady of the house takes the h^ad of the table. The gentleman who led her down to dinner occupies the seat on her I'ight hand, and the gen- tleman next in order of precedence that on her left. The master o£ the house takes the foot of the table. The lady whom he escorted sits on hi» right hand, and the lady next in order of precedence on his left. The gentlemen v/ho support the lady of the house should offer to relieve her of the duties of hostess. Many ladies are well pleased thus to dele- gate the difticulties of carving, and all gentlemen who accept invitations to dinner should be prepared to render such assistance when called upon. To offer to carve a dish, and then perform the office unskilfully, is an un- l)ardonable gaucherie. Every gentleman should carve, and carve well. As soon as you are seated at the table, remove your gloves, place your table napkin across your knees, and remove the roll which you find prob- ably within it to the left side of your plate. The soup should be placed on the table first. In eating soup, remember always to take it from the side of the spoon, and to make no sound in doing so. If the servants do not go round with wine the gentlemen should h(3lp the ladies and themselves to sherry or sauterne immediately after the soup. You should never ask for a second supply of either soup or fish ; it delays the next course and keeps the table waiting. Never offer to " assist " your neighbours to this or that dish. The word IS inexpressibly vulgar — all the more vulgar fur its affectation of elegance. 270 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. *' Slmll T send you some mutton ? " or " may I help you to canvas-back ? " is better chosen and better bred. If you are asked to take wine, it is polite to select the same as that which your interlocutor is drinking. Ifyou invite a lady to take wine, you should ask her which she will prefer, and then take the same your- self. Should you, however, for any reason prefer some other vintage, you •can take it by courteously requesting her j)crTnission. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat ; or, if the viands are too hot for your palate, take up your knife and fork and apjjcar to begin. To wait for others is now not only old-fashioned, but ill-bred. Never of^br to pass on the j)late to which you have been helped. In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Silver fish-knives will now always be met with at the best tables ; but where there are none, a piece of crust should be taken in the left hand, And the fork in the right. There is no exception to this rule in eatini^ fish. We presume it is scarcely neoessary to remind the reader that he is never, under any circumstances, to convey his knife to his mouth. Peas are eaten with the fork ; tarts, curry, and puddings of all kinds with the spoon. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus- tongs. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others do, and act accord- ingly. Some very well-bred people eat it with the fingers ; others cut off the heads, and convey them to the mouth upon the fork. It would be difficult to say which is the more correct. In eating stone fruit, such as chemes, damsons, etc., the same rule had better be observed. Some put the stones out from the mouth into a spoon, and so convey them to the plate. Others cover the lips with the Imnd, drop them unseen into the palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. In our own opinion, the latter is the better way, as it effectually conceals the return of the stones, which is certainly the })oint of highest importance. Of one thing we may be sure, and that is, that they must never be dropped from the mouth to the plate. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate. If the servants do not go round with the vnne (wliich is by far the best custom), the gentlemen at a dinner table should take upon themselves the office of helping thuso ladies who sit near them. Ladies take more wine in the reinon wine, 1 noglecl sorviriji The "f fash: ditmer, even tli Unle, iii^-' win a little ] bow slir It is ] Oortai toin — as roast m I THE DINNKIl TABLE. 271 in the present day than they did fifty years ago, and gentlemen should remember this, and otter it frecjuently. Ladies cannot very well ask for wine, but they can always decline it. At all event.'; tliey do not like to bo neglected, or to see gentlemen liberally helping themselves, without ob- siiving whether their fair neighhoiir's glasses are full or empty. The habit of taking wine with each other has almost wholly gone out of fashion. A gentlcMoan may ask the lady whom he conducted do^^ n to dinner, or ho may ask the lady of the house to take wine with him. But even these last remnants of the old custom are fast falling into disuse. Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremel}' uncivil to decline tak- ing wine if you are invited to do so. In accepting, you have only to pour a little fresh wine into your glass, look at the person who invited you, liuw slightly, and take a sip from the gla.ss. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions. Certain wines are taken with certain dishes, by old-established ci s- toin — as sherry or sauterne, with soup and fish ; hock and claret, with roast meat ; punch with turtle ; champagne with sweet-bread and cut- lets ; port with venison ; port or burgundy, with game ; .sparkling wines between the roast and the confectionery ; mo>deira with sweets ; port with choese ; and for dessert, port, tokay, madeira, shei-ry and claret. Red wines should never be iced, even in summer. Claret and burgundy .should always be .slightly warmed; claret-cup and champagne cup .should, of course, be iced. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice pail, some hosts introduce clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. Tliis cannot be too strongly rei)rehended. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and flavour of the wine. Those who desire to drink wine and c'a^er, can ask for iced water if they choose, but it savours too much of economy on the part of the host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle. A .silver knife and fork should be placed to each guest at dessert. If you are asked to prepare fruit for a lady, be careful i.o do so by means of thg silver knife and fork only, and never to touch it with your fingers. It is wise never to partake of any dish without knowing of what in- gredients it is composed. You can always ask the servant who hands it to you, and you thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the impolite- ness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Never speak while you have anything in your mouth. Be careful never to taste soups or puddings till you are sure they are sufficiently cool ; as, by disregarding this caution, you may be compelled :^»^_ — 272 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOl'.EDIA. to swallow what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardonable al- ternative of returning it to your plate. When eating or drinking, avoid every kind of audible testimony to the fact. Finger-glasses, containing water slightly warmed and perfumed, are placed to each person at dessert. In these you may dip the tips of your lingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the tingcr-glass and doyley are placed on your dessert-plate, yoa should immediately re- move the doyley to the left of your plate, and place the finger-glass upon it. By these means yor^ leave the right for the wine-glasses. Be careful to know^ the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses com- monly in use, in order that you may never put forward one for another. High and narrow, and very broad and shallow glasses, are used for cham- pagne ; large, goblet-shaped glasses for burgundy and claret ; ordinary wine-glasses for sherry and madeira ; green glasses for hock ; and some- what large, bell-shaped glasses for port. Port, sherry, and madeira are decanted. Hock and champagnes appear in their native bottles. Claret and burgundy are handed around in a claret jug. Coffee and liqueurs should be handed round when the dessert has been about a quarter of an hour on the table. After this, the ladies generally retire. Should no servant be present to do so, the gentleman who is nearest the door should hold it for the ladies to pass through. When the ladies are leaving the dining-room, the gentlemen all rise in their places, and do not resume their sieats till the last lady is gone. If you should unfortunately overturn or break anything, do not apolo- gize for it. You can show your regret in your face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words. Should ycu injure a lady's dress, apologize amply, and assist her, if pos- sible, to remove all traces of the damage. To abstain from taking the hial; piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It im- plies a fear that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost conveys an affront to your host. In summing up the little duties and la\ 3 of the table, a popular author has said that — "The chief matter of consideration at the dinner- table — as, indeed, everywhere else in the life of a gentleman — is to be perfectly com- posed and at his ease. He speaks deliberately ; he performs the most im- portant act or the day as if he were performing the most ordinary. Yet PARTY AND BALL-ROOM ETIQUETTE. 273 there is no appearance of trifling or want of gravity in his manner, he maintains the dignity which is so becoming on so vital an occasion. He performs all the ceremonies, yet in the stylo of one who performs no cere- monies at all. He goes through all the complicated duties of the scene as if he were ' to the manner born.' " To the giver of a diiiner we have but one or two remarks to offer. If he be a bachelor, he had better give his dinner at a good hotel. If a mar- ried man, he will, we presume, erter into council with his wife and his cook. In any case, however, he .should always bear in mind that it is his duty to entertain his friends in the best manner that his means permit ; and that this is the least he can do to recompense them for tin expendi- ture of time and money which they incur in accepting his invitation. In conclusion, we may observe that to sit long in tlie dining-room after the ladies have retired is to pay a bad compliment to the hostess and her fair visitors ; and that it is still worse to rejoin them with a Hushed face and impaired powers of thought. A refined gentleman is always tem- perate. ^Jartji anil ^Tall-|loom Etiquette. -♦--<••♦ -4- HOW TO OEGANIZE A DANOmG PARTY OR BALL. S the ninnber of guests at a dinner-party is regulated by the size of the table, so should the number of invitations to a ball be limited by the proportions of the dancing or ball-room. A prudent hostess will always invite a few more guests than she reallv desires to entertain, in the certainty that there will be some deserters when tiie ap- pointed evening comes round ; but she will at the same time remember that to overcrowd her room is to spoil the pleasure of those who love dancing, and that a party of this kind when too numerously attended is as great a failure as one at which too few are present. A room which is nearly sf[uarc, yet a little longer than it is broad, will he found the most ftivourable for a ball. It admits of two quadrille par- R :>^^->. 274 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ,:^ ties, or two round dances, at the same time. In a perfectly square room this arrangement is not so practicable or pleasant. A very long and nar- row room, and their number in this country is legion, is obviously of the woi-st shape for the purpose of dancing, and is fit only for quadrilles and country dances. The top of the ball-room is the part nearest the musicians. In a private room, the top is where it would bo if the room were a dining-room. It is generally at the farthest point from the door. Dancers should be careful to ascertain the top of the room before taking their places, as the top couples always lead the dances, A good floor is of the first importance in a ball-room. In a private house, nothing can be better than a smooth, well-stretched holland, with the carpet beneath. Abundance of light and free ventilation are indispensable to the spirits and comfort of the dancers. Good music is as necessary to the prosperity of a ball as good wine to the excellence of a dinner. No hostess should tax her friends for this part of the entertainment. It is the most injurious economy imaginable. La- dies who would prefer to dance are tied to the pianoforte ; and as few amateurs have been trained in the art of playing dance music, with that strict attention to time and accent which is absolutely necessary to the comfort of the dancers, a teal and general discontent is sure to be the re- sult. To play dance music thoroughly well is a branch of the art which requires considerable practice. It is as diflferent from every other kind of playing as whale fi.shing is from fly fishing. Those who give private balls will do well ever to bear this in mind, and to provide skilled musicians for the evening. For a small party, a piano and cornopean make a very plea- sant combination. Unless where several instruments are engaged we do not recommend the introduction of the violin ; although in some respects the finest of all solo instruments, it is apt to sound thin and shrill when employed on mere inexpressive dance tunes, and played by a mere dance player. Invitations to a ball or dance should be issued in the name of the lady of the house, and wricten on small note-paper of the best quality. Elegant printed forms, some of them printed in gold or silver, are to be had at every stationer's by those who prefer them. The paper may be gilt-edged, but not coloured. An invitation to a ball should be sent out at least ten days before the evening appointed, A fortnight, three weeks, and even a month may be allowed in the way of notice. The IfM] " ^ly de The ], ber of , P''epond( unless tJ: A roor Jadies. h to assist •some j)lac at a nioij 'duplicate cert roonif accident ii Atiothei P^ied with ^^Jiere tlij, between tJi ^^i« ques of those wli it in a trea course alwa ^n^l nieans ^ ^^e whether HOW TO ORGANIZK A DANCING PARTY OR BALL. 275 Not move tlmn two or three days should be permitted to elapse before you reply to an invitation of this kind. The reply should alwa3's be ad- dressed to the lady of the house, and should be couched in the same per- son as the invitation. The following are the forms generally in use : — Mrs. Molyneiix re([ue8t3 the honotir of Captain Hamilton's company at an evening party, on Monday, March tht 1 1th instant. Dancing u'ill begin at Ni)i£ o'clock, Thursday, March Ist. Captain Hamilton has much pleasure in accepting Mrs. Molyneux's polite invitation fur Monday evening, March the 11th instan' Friday, March 2nd, The old form of" presenting compliments " is now out of fjishion. If Mrs. Molyneux writes to Captain Hamilton in the first person, as " My dear Sir," he is bound in etiquette to reply " My dear Madam." The lady who gives a ball* should endeavour to secure an equal num- ber of dancers of both sexes. Many private parties are spoiled by the preponderance of young ladies, some of whom never get partners at all, unless they dance with each other. A room should in all cases be provided for the accommodation of the ladies. In this room +hcro ought to be several looking-glasses ; attendants to assist the fair visitors in the arrangement of their hair and dress ; and some place in which the cloaks and shawls can be laid in order, and found at a moment's notice. It is well to affix tickets to the cloaks, giving a duplicate at the same time to each lady, as at the public theatres and con- cert njoms. Needles and thread should also be at hand, to repair any little / accident incurred in dancing. Another room should be devoted to refreshments, and kept amply sup- plied with coffee, lemonade, ices, wine, and biscuits during the evening. Where this cannot be arranged, the refreshments should be handed round between the dances. The question of supper is one which so entirely depends on the means of those who give a ball or evening party, that very little c .i be said upon it in a treatise of this description. Where money is no object, it is of course always preferable to have the whole supper, "with all appliances and means to boot," sent in from some first-rate house. It spares all trou- ble whether to the entertainers or their servants, and relieves the hostess * It win be understood that we use the word " ball' to Bignify a private parly where there is Jancing, as well as a public ball. 276 THE HOME, FAllM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. of everj'^ anxiety. Where circumstances render such a course imprudent, we would only observe that a home-provided supper, however simple, should be good of its kind, and abundant in quantity. Dancers are gene- rally hungry people, and feel themselves much aggineved if the supply of sandwiches proves unequal to the demand. BALL-EOOM TIOLETTE. ^'^. LADIES. The style of a lady's dress is a matter so entirely dependent on age, means, and fashion, that we can offer but little advice upon it. Fashion is so variable, that statements which are true of it to-day may be false a month hence. Respecting no institution of modern society is it so dittioult to pronounce half-a-dozen permanent rules. We may perhaps be permitted to suggest the following leading princi- ples ; but we do so with diffidence, llich colours harmonize with licli brunette complexions and dark hair. Delicate colours are the most suitable for delicate and fragile styles of beauty. Very young ladies are never so suitably attired as in white. Ladies who dance should wear di'esses of light and diaphanous materials, such as tidle gauze, crape, net, etc., over coloured silk slips. Silk dresses are not suitable for dancing. A mairied lady who dances only a few quadrilles may wear a decolletee silk dress with propriety. Very stout persons should never wear whitt. It has the effect of adding to the bulk of the figure. Black and scarlet or black and violet, are worn in mourning. A lady in deep mourning should not dance at all. However fashionable it may be to wear very long dresses, those ladies who go to a ball with the intention of dancing and enjoying the dance, should cause their dresses to be made short enough to clear the ground. We wo\dd ask them whether it is not better to accept this slight deviation from an absurd fashion, than to appear for three parts of the evening in a torn and pinned-up skirt. Well-made shoes, whatever their colour or material, and faultless gloves, are indispensable to the effect of a ball-room toilette. Much jewellery is out of place in a ball-room. Beautiful flowers, whe- ther natural or artificial, are the loveliest ornaments that a lady can wear on these occasions. ETIQUETTE OF THE BALL-ROOM. 277 GENTLEMEN. A black suit, thin enameled boots, a white neckcloth, and white or deli- cate gray gloves, are the chief points of a gentleman's ball-room toilette. He may wear a plain-bosomed shirt with one stud. White waistcoats are now fashionable. Much display of jewellery is no proof of good taste. A handsome watch-chain with, perhaps, the addition of a few costly trifles suspended to it, and a single shirt-stud, are the only adornments of this kind that gentleman should wear. A gentleman's dress is necessarily so simple that it admits of no compro- mise in point of quality and style. The material should be the best that money can procure, and the fashion unexceptionable. So much on the out- ward man depends on his tailor, that we would urge no gentleman to economize in this matter. (lini; ladies lance, •ouucl iation Lr ilia rloves, \vhe- l\ wear ETIQUETTE OF THE BALL-ROOM. On entering the ball-room, the visitor should at once seek the lady of the house, and pay his respects to her. Having done this, he may exchange salutations with such friends and acquaintances as may be in the room. If the ball be a public one, and a gentleman desires to dance with any lady to whom he is a stranger, he must apply to a member of the floor committee for an introduction. Even in private balb, no gentleman can invite a lady to dance without a ])revious introduction. This introduction should be effected through tlie lady of the house or a member of her family. No lady should accept an invitation to dance from a gentleman to whom she has not been introduced. In case any gentleman should commit the error of so inviting her, she should not excuse herself on the plea of a pre- vious engagement or of fatigue, as to do so would imply that she did not herself attach due importance to the necessary ceremony of introduction. Her best reply would be to the effect that she would have much pleasure in accepting his invitation if he would procure an introduction to her. This observation may be taken as applying only to public balls. At a private party the host and hostess are sufficient guarantees for the respect- ability of their guests; and although a gentleman would show a singular want of knowledge of the laws of society in acting as we have supposed, the lady who should reply to him as if he were merely an impertinent stranger in a public assembly-room, would be implying an aflront to her entertainers. The mere fact of being assembled together under the roof of 278 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. a mutual friend, is in itself, a kind of general introduction of the guests to each other. An introduction given for the mere purpose of enabling a lady and gen- tleman to go througii a dance together, does not constitute an acquaint- anceship. The lady is at liberty, should she feel like doing so, to pass the gentleman the next day without recognition. ■To attempt to dance without a knowledge of dancing is not only to make one's self ridiculous, but one's partner also. No lady or gentleman has a right to place a partner in this absurd position. Never forget a ball-room engagement. To do so is to commit an unpar- donable offence against good breeding. It is not necessary that a lady or gentleman should be acquainted with the steps in order to walk gracefully and easily through a quadrille. An easy carriage and a knowledge of the figure is all that is requisite. A round dance, however, should on no account be attempted without a thorough knowledge of the steps and some previous practice. No person who has not a good ear for time and tune need hope to dance well. At the conclusion of a dance the gentleman bows to his partner, and either promenades with her round the room or takes her to a seat. Where a room is set apart for refreshments, he offers to conduct her thither. At a public ball no gentleman would, of course, permit a lady to pay for refreshments. Good taste forbids that a lady and gentleman should dance too frequently together, at either a public or private ball. Engaged per- sons should be careful not to commit this conspicuous solecism. If a lady happens to forget a previous engagement, and stands up with another partner, the gentleman whom she has thus slighted is bound to believe that she has acted from mere inadvertence, and should by no means suffer his pride to master his good temper. To cause a disagreeable scene in a private ball-room is to affront your host and hostess, and to make youi-self absurd. In a public room it is no less reprehensive. Always remember that good breeding and good temper (or the appear- ance of good temper) are inseparably connected. Young gentlemen are earnestly advised not to limit their conversation to rem.arks on the weather and the heat of the room. It is to a certain extent incumbent on them to do something more than dance when they invite a lady to join a quadrille. If it be only upon the news of the day, a gentleman should be able to afford at least three or four observations to his partner in the course of a long half hour. THE QUADRILLE. 279 Gentlemen who dance cannot be too careful not to injure the dresses of the ladies who do them the honour to stand up witii them. The young tnon of the present day are singularly careless in this respect, and when they have torn a lady's delicate skirt, appear to think the mischief they liave done scarcely worth the trouble of an apology. A gentleman conducts his last partner to the supper-room, and having waited upon her while there, re-conducts her to the ball-room. Kever attempt to take a place in a dance which has been previously engaged. A thoughtful hostess will never introduce a bad dancer to a good one, because she has no right to punish one friend in order to oblige another. It is not customary for married persons to dance together in society. THE QUADEILLE. The Quadrille is the most universal, as it is certainly the most sociable of all fashionable dances. It admits of pleasant conversation, frequent interchange of partners, and is adapted to every age, the young or old ; the ponderous paterfamilias or his sylph-like daughter, may with equal pro- priety take part in its easy and elegant figures. Even an occasional blunder is of less consequence in this dance than in many ofchei's, for each personage is in some degree free as to his own movements, not being com- jjcUed by the continual embrace of his partner to dance either better or worse than he may find convenient. People now generally walk through a quadrille. Nothing more than a perfect knowledge of the figure, a graceful demeanour, and a correct ear for the time of the music are reijuisite to enable a iy one to take a credit- able part in this dance. As soon as a gentleman has engaged his partner for the quadrille, he should endeavour to secure as his vis-d-vis some fi'iend or acquaintance, and should then lead his partner to the top of the quadrille, provided that post of honour be still vacant. He will place the lady always at his right hand. Quadrille music is divided into eight bars, for each part of the figure ; two steps should be taken in every bar; every movement thus invariably consists of eight or four steps. It is well not to learn too many new figures ; the memory is liable to become confused among them ; besides which, it is doubtful whether your partner, or your vis-d-vis, is as learned in the matter as yourself Masters are extremely fond of inventing and teaching new figures ; but you will 280 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.EDIA. do well to confine your attention to a few simple and universally received sets, which you will tiiid (juite sutiicient for your [)urpose. We begin with the oldest and most common, the FIEST SET OF QUADRILLES. FIRST FIGURE. — LE PANTALON. The couples at the top and bottom of the quadrille cross to each other's places in eight steps, occupying four bars of the time ; re-cross innnediately to their own places, which completes the movement of eight bars. This is called the ('li(ii)ie Awjlaii^c The gentleman always keeps to the right of vis-d-ris's lady in crossing, thus placing her inf^'ule. Set to partners, or htdancez; turn your partner. (This occuj)ies the se- cond eight bars.) Ladies' chain, or cliaine (/es dames. (Eight l»ars more.) Each couple crosses to opposite couple's place, gentleman giving his hand to his partner ; this is called half-promenade. Couples re-cross right and left to their places, without giving hands, which completes another eight bars and ends the figure. The side couples repeat what the top and bottom couples have done. SECOND FIGURE. — LE'TE. The ladies in all the top couples, and their vi><-(\-v'iS gentlemen, ad- vance four steps, and retire the same, repeating this movement once again, which makes the first eight bars. Top ladies and vis-a-vis gentlemen cross to each other's places; ad- vance four steps ; retreat ditto ; cross back towards partners, who sot to them as they advance ; turn partners, which ends the first half of figure. Second ladies and top i^w-a-^w's gentlemen'execute the same movenn-nts. The side couples begin, the privilege of commencement being conferred on those lailies who stand at the ri;/ht of the top couples. This figure is .sometimes performed in a difi'erent manner known as double L'Etii. Instead of tiie top lady and vis-a-yis gentlemen advancing' alone, they advance with partners, joining hands ; cross and return, as in the single figure. This variation is, however, somewhat out of vogue, except (as will presently be .seen) in the last figure of tlie (quadrille, where it is still freipiently introduced. THIRD FIGURE. — LA POULE. Top lady and ri.9-a-i'/s gentleman cro.ss to each' other's places, giving right hand in passing; cro.ss back again witii left hand (eight bars). The -'■^ __:i|.s ^- THE TETE A TETE. two c in;,' tl way.s to op anil re toy e til ei,i,'Iit Side c Top arjain, ^ tirinir i side ; 8 liers. ( liars.) If Zo a'lv.anco vk- four step tint 0,1 ro yives a yr ^'ond, the out, Eac tJie waist, "gain, crof I^'i' lies' eh, ^'ond. Si( and at the seat. FIRST S1<:T of (iUADRILLKS. 281 two couples form in a lino, and join ham Is, the left hand of the one hold- inj,' the right Imnd of his or her nei|^'hhour, so that each faces dilferent ways; in this position all ioviv balance z, thon half promenade with partner to opposite place : top lady and ins-a-uis gentleman advance four step* and retire ditto. (2nd eight bars.) Both top and bottom couples ndvance together, and retire the same ; then re-cross right and left to places. (3rd eight bars.) Second lady and lirst opposing gentleman repeat (igure. Side couples repeat, observing same rule for commencement as in Jjhte. FOURTH FIGURE. — LA TCENISE. Top couples join hands, advance four steps and retreat ditto; advance again, gentleman leaving lady at left hand of via-a-vis gentleman and re- tiring alone. (1st eight bars.) Two ladies advance, crossing to opposite side ; gentleman advances to meet his partner, vis-a-vls lady returns to hers. (2nd eight bars). Balanccz ; turns partners to places. (3id eight l^ars.) Second couple performs same figure ; side couples repeat as before If La Pastorale be preferred, it will be performed thus : — Top couples advance and retreat ; advance, gentleman leading lady to left hand of vifi-d-vis gentleman ; he advances with botli ladies four steps, retreating ditto; again advancing he leaves both ladies with first gentleman, retreat- ing alone ; top gentleman and both ladies advance and retreat ; again ad- vance, joining hands in circle, go half round, half promenade to opposite places, then return right and left to their own. Second couples and side couples repeat as before. FIFTH FIGURE. — LA FINALE. Begin with the rjratid rond or great round ; that is, the whole quad- villo ; first and second couples and sides join hands all aiound, advance four steps, and retreat ditto. L'Etd is now sometimes introduced, the Hmml rond being repeated between each division of the figure. But it givo.s a greater variety and brio to the quatlrille if, after tiie first grand vond, the following figure is performed, the galop step being used through- out. Each gentleman (at -op and bottom couples) takes his lady round the waist, as for the galop; advance four steps, retreat ditto, advance again, cross to opposite places; advance, retreat, re-cross to own places, Liidios' chain; half promenade across ; half right and left to places ; grand rond. Side couples repeat figure. Grand rond between each division and at the conclusion. Bow ' to your partners, and conduct your lady ta seat. 282 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. 1$ THE LANCERS. The Lancers Quadiille is perhaps the most graceful and animated of any. Within the last few years it has become a great favourite in fash- ionable cii'cles. It admits of much skill and elegance in executing its X'ERS. 283 ^ni Fhjnre. — First lating the agency of v a hilld-doux in declaring his passion. U ■MM 'sasv ti iim Il«. Ik 300 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. The lady, before proposal, is generally prepared for it. It is seldom that such an avowal comes without some previous indications of look and manner on the pai't of the admirer, which can hardly fail of being under- stood. She may not, indeed, consider lierself engaged ; and although nearly certain of the conquest she has made, may yet have her misgivings. Some gentlemen dread to ask, lest they should be refused. Many pause just at the point, and refrain from anything like ardour in their profes- sions of attachment, until they feel confident that they may bo spared the mortification and ridicule that is suppo.scd to attach to being rejected^ in addition to the pain of disappointed hope. This hesitation when the mind is made up is wrong ; but it does often occur, and we suppose ever will do so, with persons of great timidity of character. By it both parties are kept needlessly on the fret, until the long-looked-for opportunity un- expectedly arrives, when the Hood-gates of feeling are loosened, and the full tide of mutual affection guslies forth uncontrolled. It is, however, at this moment — the agony-point to the embarrassed lover, who " doats yet doubts " — whose suppressed feelings rendered him morbidly sensitive — that a lady should be especially careful lest any show of either prudery or coquetry on her pai't should lose to her forever the object of her choice. True love is generally delicate and timid, and may easily be scared by affected indifference, through feelings of wounded pride. A lover needs very little to assure him of the reciprocation of his attachment : a glance, a single pressure of the hand, a wdiispered syllable, on the part of the loved one, will suffice to confirm his hopes. Eefusal by the Youn^ Lady. When a lady rejects the proposal of a gentleman, her behaviour should be eharacterized by the most delicate feeling toward one who, in offering her his hand, luis proved his desire to confer upon her, by this implied preference for her above all other women, the greatest honour it is in his power to ofler. Therefore, if she have no love for him, she ought at least to evince a tender regard for his feelings ; and in the event of her being previously engaged, should at once acquaint him with the fact. No right-minded man would desire to persist in a suit, when he well knew that thci object of his admiration had already disposed of her heart. . When a gentleman makes an ofier of his hand by letter, the letter must be answered, and certainly not returned, should the answer be a refusal ; unless, indeed, when from a previous repulse, or some other particular ami special circumstance, such an offer may be regarded by the lady or lier CONDUCT OF A GP:NTLEMAN WHEN ADDRESSES REJECTED. 301 relatives as presumptuous and intrusive. Under such circumstances, the letter laay be placed by the lady in the hands of her parents or guardian, to be u alt with by them as they may deem most advisable. No woman of proper feeling would )-egard her rejection of an offer of marriage from a worthy man as a matter of triumph ; her feeling on such an occasion should be one of regretful sympathy with him for the pain she is unavoidably compelled to inflict. Nor should such a rejection be unaccompanied with some degree of self-examination on her part, to discern whether any lightness of demeanour or tendency to flirtation may have given rise to a false hope of her favouring his suit. At all events, no lady should ever treat the man who has so honoured her with the slightest disrespect or frivolous disregard, nor ever unfeelingly parade a more favoured suitor before one whom she has refused. loiiltl li-ing llii-d l\ his [t at luT [new must lisiil ; aiitl her Conduct of a (rentleman when his Addresses are Rejected. The conduct of the gentleman under such distressing circumstances should be characterized by extreme delicacy and a chivalrous resolve to avoid occasioning any possible annoyance or uneasiness to the fair author of his pain. If, however^ he should have reason to suppose that his rejec- tion has resulted from more indifference to his suit, he need not altogether retire from the field, but may endeavour to kindle a feeling of regard and sympathy for the pateint endurance of his disappointment, and for his continued but respectful endeavours to please the lukewarm fair one. But in ca,se of avowed or evident preference for another, it becomes im- erative upon him, as a gentleman, to withdraw at once, and so relieve the lady of any obstacle, that his presence or pretensions may occasion, to the furtherance of her obvious wishes. A pertinacious continuance of his attentions, on the part of one who has been distinctly rejected, is an in- sult deserving of the severest reprobation. Although the weakness of her sex, which ought to be her protection, frequently prevents a woman from forcibly breaking off' an acquaintance thus annoy ingly forced upon her, she rarely fails to resent such impertinence by that sharpest of woman's weapons, a keen-edged but courteous ridicule, which few men can bear up against. Refusal by the Lady's Parents or Guardians. It may happen that both the lady and her suitor are willing, but that the parents or guardians of the former, on being referred to, deem the connection unfitting, and refuse their consent. In this state of matters, 302 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. m V the first thing a man of sense, proper feeling, and candour should do, is to endeavour to learn the objections of the parents, to see whether they can- not be removed. If they are based upon his present insufficiency of means, a lover of a persevering spirit may effect much in removing appre- hension on that score, by cheerfully submitting to a reasonable time of probation, in the hope of amelioration in his worldly circumstances. Happiness delayed will be none the less precious when love has stood the test of constancy and the trial of time. Should the objection be founded on inequality of social position, the parties, if young, may wait until matured age shall ripen their judgment and place the future more at their own disposal. A clandestine marriage should be peremptorily declined. In too many cases it is a fraud committed by an elder and more experi- enced party upon one whose ignorance of the world's ways, and whose confiding tenderness appeal to him for protection even against himself. In nearly all the instances we have known of such marriages, the result proved the step to have been ill-judged, imprudent, and highly injurious to the reputation of one party, and in the long run detrimental to the happiness of both. Conduct of the Engaged Couple. The conduct of the bridegroom-elect should be marked by a gallant and affectionate assiduity towards his lady-love — a denouement easily felt and understood, but not so easy to define. That of the lady towards him should manifest delicacy, tenderness, and confidence : while looking for his thorough devotion to herself, she should not captiously take offence and show airs at his showing the same kind of attention to other ladies as she, in her turn, would not hesitate to receive from the other sex. In the behaviour of a gentleman towards his betrothed in public, little difference should be perceptible from his demeanour to other ladies, except in those minute attentions which none but those who love can properly understand or appreciate. In private, the slightest approach to indecorous familiarity must be avoided ; indeed it is pretty certain to be resented by every woman who deserves to be a bride. The lady's honour is now in her lover's hands, and he should never forget in his demeanour to and before her that that lady is to be his future wife. It is the privilege of the betrothed lover, as it is also his duty, to give advice to the fair one who now implicitly confides in him. Should he detect a fault, should he observe failings which he would wish removed CONDUCT OF THE LADY DURING HER BETROTHAL. 303 anil felt hiiu for fence ladies llittle Kcept Iperly 1st be who lands, that jrive Li he Loved or amended, let him avail himself of this season, so ffvvourable for the frank interchange of thought between the betrothed pair, to urge tlieir correction. He will find a ready listener ; and any judicious counsel urfered ^o her by him will now be gratefully received, and remembered in after life. After marriage it may be too late ; for advice on trivial pointa of conduct may then not improbably be resented by the wife as an un- necessary interference ; now, the fair and loving creature is disposed like pliant wax in his hands to mould herself to his reasonable wishes in all things. Conduct of the Lady during her Betrothal. A lady is not expected to keep aloof from society on her engagement, nor to debar herself from the customary attentions and courtesies of her male acquaintances generally; but she should, while accepting them cheerfully, maintain such a prudent reserve, as to intimate that they are viewed by her as mere acts of ordinary courtesy and friendship. In all places of public amusement — at balls, the opera, etc, — for a lady to be seen with any other cavalier than her avowed lover, in close attendance upon her, would expose her to the imputation of flirtation. She will naturally take pains at such a period to observe the taste of Lcr lover in regard to her costume, and strive cai'efully to follow it, for all men desire to have their taste and wishes on such apparent trifles gratified. She should at the same time observe much delicacy in regard to dress, and be r careful to avoid any unseemly display of her charms ; lovers are naturally jealous of observation under such circumstances. It is a mistake not sel- dom made by women, to suppose their suitors will be pleased by the glow- ing admiration expressed by other men for the object of their passion. Most lovers, on the contrary, we believe, would prefer to withdraw their prize from general observation until the happy moment for their union has arrived. Conduct of the Gentleman towards the Family of his Betrothed. The lover, having now secured his position, should use discretion and tact in his intercourse with the lady's family, and take care that his visits he not deemed too frequent — so as to be really inconvenient to them. He should accommodate himself as much as possible to theii" habits and ways, and be ever ready and attentive to consult their wishes. Marked atten- tion, and in most cases aflfectionate kindness, to the lady's mother ought to he shown ; such respectable homage will secure for him many advantages 304 thp: home, farm and businkss cyclopaedia. mM-: in his present position. He must not, however, presume to take his stand yet as a member of the family, nor exhibit an obtrusive famiHarity in manner and conversation. Sliould a disruption of the engagement from isome unexi)eeted cause ensue, it is obvious that any such premature as- sumption would lead to very embarrassing results. In short, his conduct should be such as to win for himself the esteem and affection of all the family, and dispose them ever to welcome and desire hi3 presence, rather than regard him as an intruder. Conduct of the Lady on Eetiring from her Engagement. Should thitj step unhappily be found necessary on the lady's part, the truth should be spoken, and the reasons frankly given ; there must be no room left for the suspicion of its having originated in caprice or injus- tice. The case should be so put that the gentleman himself must sec and acknowledge the justice of the painful decision arrived at. Incompatiole habits, ungentlemanly actions, anything tending to diminish that respect for the lover which should be felt for the husband ; inconstancy, ill- governed temper — all of which, not to mention other obvious objections- are to be considered as sufficient reasons for terminating an engagement. The communication should be made as tenderly as possible ; room may be left in mere venial cases for reformation ; but all that is done must be so managed that not the slightest shadow of fickleness or want of faith may rest u])on the character of the lady. It must be remembered, however, that the termination of an engagement by a lady has the privilege of pass- ing unchallenged ; a lady not being bound to declare any other reason than her will. Nevertheless she owes it to her own reputation that her decision should rest on a sufficient foundation, and be unmistakably pro- nounced. Conduct of the Gentleman on Eetu-ing from his Engagement. We hardly know how to approach this portion of our subject. Tlie reasons must be strong indeed that can sufficiently justify a man, placed in the position of an accepted suitor, in severing the ties by which he has bound himself to a lady with the avowed intention of making her his wife. His reasons for breaking off his engagement must be such as will not merely satisfy his own conscience, but will justify him in the eyes of the world. If the fault be on the lady's side, great reserve and delicacy will be observed by any man of honour. If, on the other hand, the imper- ative force of circumstances, such as loss of fortune, or some other unex- ^ever, ' |iass- •easou at her pr 0- Tl le placed Ihe has his ill of her IS w .yes ilicacy V- impe vinex- it <'le i'eo i) le has of n 1.0th ooale spicu Jty a; E u mg aj tliat k tliose nio.st {len.si\ prove the liw events Ji or aff't no.* is fond h "ot acti ■shouir TJ It'll Jocoinin roadines quires ti or .sIk ]ov fill wisli or se DEMKAXOl'R OF THE SUITOR DURING COURTSHIP. 305 "/ |)octeil cnlamity to himself, may be the cause, tlien must tlie reason be clearly ami fully explained, in such a manner as to soothe the painful feolin<^s which such a result must necessarily occasion to the lady end her friends. It is scarcely necessary to point out the necessity for obs>3rvin<' great caution in all that relates to the antecedents of an eii<,'agement that has been broken oti"; espocially the return on either side of presents and of all letters that have passed. This last allusion brings us to the consideration of Correspondence. Letter-writing- is one great test of ability and cultivation, as lesjiects lioth sexes. The imperfection of education may be to some extent con- cealed or glossed over in conversation, but cannot fail to stand out con- spicuously in a letter. An ill- written letter infallibly betrays the vulgar ity and ignorance indicative of a mean social ]>osition. But there is something more to i)e guarded against than even bad writ- ing and worse spelling in a correspondence : Haying foo mack — writing that kind of matter which will not bear to be read by other eyes than those for which it was originally intended. That this is too frequently (lone is amply proved by the love letters often read in a court of law, the tiKjst aftecting passages fiom which occasion " roars of laughter " and the derisive connnents of merry-making counsel. Occurrences of this kind piove how frequently letters are not returned or burned when an affair of the heart is broken oti'. Correspondence between lovers should at all events be tempered with discretion ; and on the lady's part particularl^', her affectionate expressions should not degenerate into a sill^' st^de of ^ fondness. It is as well to remark here, that in correspondence Itetween a couple nut actually engaged, the use of Christian names in adilressing each other ^ should lie avoided. Demeanour of the Suitor during Courtship. The manners of a gentleman are ever characterized by urbanit}' and a boconiing consideration for the feelings and wishes of others, and by a iciuliness to practise self-denial. But the ver}- nature of courtship re- quires the fullest exercise of these excellent qualities on his part. The lover should carefullv accommodate his tone and bearing, whether cheer- fnl or serious, to the mood for the time of his lady-love, whose slightest "W'ish must be his law. In his a.ssiduities to her he mu.st allow of no .stint j T 300 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ii*"'^!' though liiriilered hy time, (V.stance, or fatigue, he must strive to make liis professional and social duties bend to his homage at the shrine of love. All this can be done, moreover, by a man of excelktifc sense with perfect propriety Indeed, the world will not oidy commend him for such devoted gallantry, but will be pretty sure to censure him for any short-coming in liis perfoimance of such devoirs. It is, perhaps, needless to observe that at such a period a gentleman .should be scrupulously neat, without appearing particular, in his attire. We shall not attempt to prci^cribe what he should wear, as that must, of course, depend on the times of the day vvlien his visits are paid, and other circum.stance.s, such as meeting a party of friends, going to the theatre, etc., with the lady. Should the Courtship be Short or Long ? The answtn- to this question must depend on the previous acquaintance- ship, connection, or relation of the parties', as well as on their present cir- cumstances, and the position of their parents. In case of rt-iationship or old acquaintanceship subsisting between the families, when the courtship, declaration, and engagement have followed each other rapidly, a short wooing is preferable to along one, should other circumstances not create an obstacle. Indeed, as a general rule, we are disposed strongly to recom- mend a short courtship. A man is never well settled in the saddle of his fortunes until he be married, He Avants spring, purpose, and aim ; and, above all, lie wants a home as the centre of his efforts. Some portion of inconveni .nee, therefore, may be risked to obtain this ; in fact, it often occurs th.it by waiting too long the freshness of life is worn off, and that the generous glow of early feelings becomes tamed down to lukewann- ness, by a too prudent delaying ; while a slight sacrifice of ambition or self-indulgence on the pai't of the gentleman, and a little descent from pride of station on the lady's side, might have insured years of satisfied love and happy wedded life. On the other hand, we would recommend a long courtshij) as advisable when — the friends on both sides favouring the match — it happens that the fortune of neither party will prudently allow an immediate marriiiffe. The gentleman, we will suppose, has his way to maife in his profession or business, and is desirous not to involve th'^, object of his aflectioa in the distressing inconvenience, it not the misery, of straightened means. He reflects that for a lady it is an actual degradation, however love may en- noble the motive of her submissic n, to descend from her former foe ting in PKELTMINAKY ETIQUETTE OF A WEDDTNO. 307 •eate coin- ,f Uis aiul, pii of often arvii- .on or fvoui isfied lisable that [•virtge. \ or in tlie He „y en- linc, ii^ society, lie feels, therefore, that this risk ou^^ht not to be inquired. For, although the noble and loving spirit of a wife nu<^ht enable her to bear up cheorfully against misfortune, and by her endearments soothe the broken f?pirit of her husband ; yet the lover who would wilfully, at the outset of wedded life, expose his devoted helpmate to the ordeal of pov- erty, would bo deservedly scouted as selfish and unworthy. These, then are among the circumstances which warrant a lengthened engagement, and it should be the endeavour of the lady's friends to approve such cautious delay, and do all the}* can to assist the lover in his efforts to abridge it. The lady's father should regard the lover in the light of another son added to the family, and spare no pains to promote his interests in life, whilcj the lady's mother should do everything in her power, by those small attentions which a mother understands so well, to make the pro- tracted engagement agieeablc to him, and as endurable as possible to lier daiij.:hter. Preliminary Etiquette of a Wedding. Whether the term of courtship ma}-^ hav3 been long or short — accord- ing to the recpiii'cments of the case — the time will at last arrive for Fixing the Day. While it is the gentleman's province to press for the earliest possible opportunity, it is the lady's privilege to name the happy day ; not but that the bridegroom-elect must, after all, issue the fiat, for he has much to consider and pre|)are for beforehand : for instance, to settle where it will be most convenient to spend the honeymoon — a point which must depend on the season of the year, on his own vocation, and other circumstances. At this advanced state of ufiairs, we mast not overlook the important question of The Bridal Trousseau and the Wedding Presents. Wedding presents mu.^t be sent always to the bride, never to the bride- gi-oom, though they be given by the friends of the latter. They should be .sent dLuiug the week previous to the wedding day, as it is customary to display them before the ceremony. Two cards folded in the invitation in the envelope are sent with the wedding invitation. The invitation is in the name of the bride's mother, or, if she is not livinfj, the relative or friend nearest the bride : lii IB! 308 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.EDIA, Mrs. Thos. Langtou AT IIOMK, Tuesday, Kovnnhrr IS///, riioM 11 TILL 2 o'clock. No. SG, Church Street. The two cards, one large anrl one small, are folded in this invitation. Upon the large card is engraved : Mr. and Mrs. Edward Blake. On the smaller one : Miss Maggie Wallace. If the young people " receive " after their return from the bridal tour, and there is no wedding-day reception, the followL ^^ card is sent out : Mr. and Mrs. Edward Blake AT HOMK, Thursday, December 2Sih, FROM 11 till 2 o'clock. No. oO Isabella Street. Or, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Blake AT HOiV iH, TJiursdays in December, FROM 11 TILL 2 o'clock. No. 50 Isabella Street. The bridal calls are not expected to be returned until the last day of reception. The bridegroom gives to the first groomsman the control of the cere- mony and money for the necessary expenses. The first groomsman pre- sents the bouquet for the bride, leads the visitors up to the young couple for the words of congratulation, gives the clergyman his fee, engages the ETIQrKTTE OF A WEDDIXU. 300 carriiigea, secures tickets, checks baggage, secures pleasant seats, if the hnppy pair start l»y rail for the "moon"; and, in short, makes all arrange- ments. If the wedding takes jilace in the church, the front seats in the body of the church are reserved for the relatives of the young couple. The bride must not be kept waiting. The clergyman .should be within the rails, the bridegroom and groomsmen should bo in tlie vestry-room by the time the liride is due at the church. The bridesmaids should receive the bride ill tlie vestibule. The bridal party nu'cts in the vestry-room. Tiien the Itride, leaning (lU the arm of her father, leads the procession; the bridegroom, with the Itride's mother upon his arm, follows; then groomsmen and bridesmaid.^ in couples follow. At the altar the l^ridegroom receives the bride, and the ceremony be- gins. The ijroomsmen stand behind the bride/^room, and the bridesmaids behind the bride. In some churches, the bride and bridegroom remove the right-hand glove ; in others it is not considered essential. The bride stands on the left of the groom. AVhen the wedding takes place at the house of the bride, the bridal party is grouped behind folding doors or curtains ere their friends see them. If, however, this is not convenient, they enter in the same order as in church. The first bridesmaid removes the bride's left-hand glove for the ring. After the ceremony, the bride and groom go in tlie same carriage from the church to the house, or from the house to the railway depot or boat. The bride does not change her dress until she assumes her travelling dress. Her wedding gown is worn at the breakfast. Friends of the family should call upon the mother of the bride during the two weeks after the wedding. Mourning must not be worn at a wedding. Even in the case of a wid- owed mother to either of the happy pair, it is customary to wear gray, or some neutral tint. It is no longer the fashion at a wedding or wedding reception to con- ijratulate the bride ; it is the bridegroom who receives congratulations ; the bride wishes for her future happiness. The bride is spoken to first. The day being fixed for the wedding, the bride's father now presents lior with a sum of money for her trousseau, according to her rank in life. A few days previously to the wedding, presents are also made to the bride by relations and intimate friends, varying in amount and value according to tlieir various degrees of relationship and friendship — such as plate, fur- 310 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. niture, jewellery, and articles of ornament as well as of utility, to the newly-married lady in her future station. These, together with her wedding dresses, etc., it is customary to exhibit to the intimate friends of the bride a day or two before her marriage. •V Duty of a Bridegroom-Elect. The bridegroom-elect has, on the eve of matrimony, no little business to transact. His first care is to look after a house suitable for his future home, and then, assisted by the taste of his chosen helpmate, to take steps to furnish it in a becoming style. He must also, if engaged in business, make arrangements for a month's absence ; in fact, bring together all mat- ters into a focus, so as to be readily manageable when, after the honey- moon, he shall take the reins himself He will do well to burn most of V his bachelor letters, and to part with, it may be, some few of his bachelor connections ; and he should communicate, in an easy, informal way, to his acquaintances generally, the close approach of so important a change in his condition. Not to do this might hereafter lead to inconvenience, and cause no little annoyance. We must now speak of Buying the Eing. It is the gentleman's business to buy the ring ; and let him take spcchd care not to forget if, for such an awkward mistake lias frequently happened- The ring should be, we need scarcely say, of the very purest gold, but sul)- stantial. There are three reasons for this ; first, that it may not break — a / source of great trouble to the young wife ; secondly, that it may not slip oft' the finger without being missed — few husbands being pleased to hear that their wives have lost their wedding rings; and thirdly, that it may last out the lifetime of the loving recipient, even should that life be pro- tracted to the extreme extent. To get the right size required is not one of the least interesting of the delicate mysteries of love. A not unusual method is to get a sister of the fair one to lend one of the lady's rings to enable the jeweller to selef^t the proper size. Care must be taken, how- ever, that it is not too large. Some audacious suitors, rendered bold by their favoured position, have been even known pvesumptuously to try the ring on the patient finger of the bride-elect ; and it has rarely happened in such cases that the ring has been refused, or sent back to be changed. WHO SHOULD BE BRIDESMAIDS. 311 Who shoula be asked to the Wedding. The wedding should take place at the house of the bride's parents or guardians. The parties who ought to be asked are the father and mother of the gentleman, the brothers and sisters (their wives and husbands also, if married), and indeed the immediate relations and favoured friends of both parties. Old family friends on the bride's side should also receive invitations — the rationale or original intention of this wedding assemblage being to give publicity to the fact that the bride is leaving her paternal home with the consent and approbation of her parents. On this occasion the bridegroom has the privilege of asking any friends he may choose to the wedding ; but no friend has a right to feel affronted at not being invited, since, were all the friends on either side assembled, the wedding breakfast would l)e an inconveniently crowded reception rather than an impressive ceremonial. It is, however, considered a matter of friendly attention on the part of those who cannot be invited, to be present at the ceremony in the church. Lk— a |t slip hear may pvo- »t one lusual lei's to how- lldby ly t^^^ leil in Who should be Bridesmaids. The bridesmaids should include the unmarried sisters of the bride ; but it is considered an anomaly for an elder sister to perform this function. The pleasing novelty for several years past of an addition to the number of bridesmaids, varying from two to eight, and sometimes more, has added greatly to the interest in weddings, the bride being thus enabled to diffuse a portion of her own happiness among the most intimate of her younger friends. One lady is always appointed principal bridesmaid, and has the bride in her charge ; it is also her djity to take care that the other brides- maids have the wedding favours in readiness. On the second bridesmaid devolves, with her principal, the duty of sending out the cards ; and on the third bridesmaid, in conjunction with the remaining beauties of her choir, the onerous office of attending to certain ministrations and mysteries con- nected with the wedding cake. Of the Bridegroomsmen. It behooves a bridegroom to be exceedingly particular in the selection of his friends who, as groomsmen, are to be hib companions and assistants on the occasion of his wedding. Their number is limited to that of the bridesmaids — one for each. It is uimecessary to add that very much of the social pleasure of the day will depend on their proper mating. Young I/' 312 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. m-M and unmarried tliey must be, handsome they should be, good-humoured v^ they cannot fail to be, well-dressed they will of course take good care to be. Let the bridegroom diligently con over his circle of friends, and select the comeliest and the pleasantest fellows for his own train. The principal bridegroomsman, styled his " best man," has, for the day, the special charge of the bridegroom ; and the last warning we would give him is, to take care that, when the bridegroom puts on his wedding waistcoat, he does not omii to put the wedding ring into the corner of the left-hand pocket. The dress of a groomsman should be light and elegant a dress-coat, for- merly considered indispeni-iable, is no longer adopted. Etiquette of a Wedding. The parties being assembled on the wedding morning in the drawing- room of the residence of the bride's father (unless, as sometimes happens, the breakfast is spread in that room), the happy corthje should proceed to the church in the following order : In the tirst carriage, the bride's mother and the parents of the bride- groom. In the second and third carriages, bridesmaids. Other carriages with the bride's fi'iends. In the last carriage, the bride and her father. Oo'^tume of the Bride. A bride's costume should be white, or some hue as close as possible to it. Costume of tht BridegToom. Formerly it was not considered to be in good taste for a gentleman to be married in a black coat. More latitude is now allowed in the costume of the bridegroom, the style now adopted being what is termed mornin<;' dress : a frock coat, light trowsers, white waistcoat, ornamental tie, and white or gray gloves. The Marriage Ceremony. The bridegroom stands at the right hand of the bride. The father staii(l> just behind her, so as to be in readiness to give her hand at the proper mo- ment to the bridegroom. The principal bridesmaid stands on the left of the bride, ready to take off the bride's glove, which she keeps as a perquisite and prize of her ottice. THi: WKDDING BREAKFAST. oi»> The Words "I Will" are to be pronounced distinctly and audibly by both parties, such being the all-important part of the ceremony as respects themselves ; the public de- livery, before the priest, by the father of his daughter to tlie bridegroom, being an evidence of his assent; the silence which follows the inquiry for /'cause or just impediment" testifying that of society in general; and the "I will" being the declaration of the bride and bridegroom that they are voluntary parties to their holy union in marriage. The Words "Honour and Obey" must also be distinctly spoken by the bride. They constitute an essential part of the obligation and contract of matrimony on her part. After the Ceremony. the clergyman usually shakes hands with the bride and bridegroom, and the bride's father and mother, and a general congratulation ensues. The Return Home. The bridegroom now loads the bride out of the church, and the happy pair return homeward in the first carriage. The father and mother follow in the next. T-\e rest "stand not on the order of their going," but start off in such wi.se as they can best contrive. The Wedding Breakfast. Tlie bride and bridegroom sit together at the centre of the table, in front of the wedding cake, the clergyman who performed the ceremony taking his jilace opposite t j them. The top and bottom of the table are occupied Ijy the father and mother of the bride. The principal bridesmaid sits to the left of the bride, and the principal bridegroomsman on the left of the biidegrooni. It may not be necessary to say that it is customary for the ladies to wear their bonnets just as they came from the church. The bridesnuiids cut the cake into small pieces, which are not <\aten until the health of the bride is proposed. This is usually done by the otiiciating clergyman, or by an old and cherished friend of the family of the bride- groom. The bridegroom returns thanks for the bride and for himself. The health of the bride's parents is then proposed, and is followed by those 3U THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. of the principal personages present, the toast of the bridesmaids being generally one of the pleasantest features of the festal ceremony. After about two hours, the principal bridesmaid leads the bride out of the room as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the party or attract attention. Shortly after — it may be in about ten minutes — the absence of the brido being noticed, the rest of the ladies retire. Then it is that the bridegroom has a few melancholy moments to bid adieu to his bachelor friends, and he then generally receiv^es some hints on the subject in a short address from one of them, to which he is of course expected to respond. He then with- draws for a few moments, and returns after having made a slight addi- tion to his toilet, in readiness for travelling. Departure for the Honeymoon. The young bride, divested of her bridal attire, and quietly costumed for the journey, now bids farewell to her bridesmaids and lady friends. A few tears spring to her gentle eyes as she takes a last look at the home she is now leaving. The servants venture to crowd about her with their humble but heartfelt congratulations: finally, she falls weeping on her mother's bosom. A short cough is heard, as of some one summoning up resolution to hide emotion. It is her father. He dares nOt trust his voice ; but holds out his hand, gives her an affectionate kiss, and then leads her, half turning back, down the stairs and through the hall, to the door, whei'e he delivers her as a precious charge to her husband, who hands her quickly into the carriage, springs in after her, waves his hand to the party who appear crowding at the window, half smiles at the throng about the door, then, amidst a shower of old slippers — missiles of good-luck sent fly- ing after the happy pair — gives the word, and they are off, and started on the long-hoped-for voyage ! Wu language of Jilolncv?. ►♦♦- OW the universal heart of man blesses flowers ! They are wreathed round the cradle, the marriage-altar, and the tomb. The Persian in the far East delights in their per- fume, and writes his love in nosegays ; while the Indian child of the far West claps his hands with glee as he gathers the abundant blossoms, — the illuminated scrip- tures of the prairies. The Cupid of the ancient Hindoos tipped his arrows with flowers, and orange-flowers are a bridal crown with us, a nation of yesterday. Flowers gai landed the Grecian altar, and hung in votive wreath before the Chris- tian shrine. All these ai'e appropriate uses. Flowers should deck the brow of the youthful bride, for they are in themselves a lovely type of marriage. They should twine round the tomb, for their perpetually re- newed beauty is a symbol of the resurrection. They should festoon the altar, for their fragrance and their beauty ascend in perpetual worship before the Most High. Flowers have a language of their own, and it is this bright particular language that we would teach our readers. How charmingly a young gentleman can speak to a young lad^^ and with what eloquent silence in this delightful language. How delicately she can respond, the beautiful little tiowers telling her tale in perfumed words ; what a delicate story the myrtle or the rose tells ! How unhappy that which bazil, or the yellow rose reveals, while ivv is the most faithful of all. MX- ■-.in'. "'^i .yl ALMOND— HOPE. The hope, in dreams of a happier hour, That alights upon misery's brow, Springs out of the silvery almond tiovver, That blooms on a leafless bough. Abecedary Volubility. Abatina Fickleness -Acacia Friendship. Acacia, Rose or White. . . Elegance. Acacia, Yellow Secret love Acanthus The line arts. Artifice. '^'^*"* Temperance Achillea Millefolia War. Aconite (Wolfsbane). . . .Misanthropy Aconite, Crowfoot Lustre. Adonia, Flos Painful recol- lections. African Marigold Vulgar mind.s. Agnus Castus Coldness. In- diiference. Agrimony Thankfulness. Gratitude. Almond (Common) Stupidity, In- discretion. Almond (Flowering) Hope. Almond, Laurel Perfidy. ■M 31C THE HOME, TAKM AND BUSINESS CYC'LOr.EDIA. Allspice Compassion. ' Aloe Grief. Ueli;iiou8 superstition, j Althjt-a Frutex (Syrian Mallow) Persuasion. Alysaum (Sweet) Worth beyond beanty | Amaranth ((Jlobe) Immortality. I Unfading love. Amaranth (Cockscomb) ..Foppery. Atl'tc- tarion. Amaryllis Pride. Timid- ity. Splendid beauty. Ambrosia Love returned. American Cowslip Divine beauty. American Kim Patriotism. American Linden Matrimony. American Starwort Welctmie to stranger. 4 Cheerfulness in old age. Amethyst , Admiration. Anemone (ZephyrFlower)SicknesB. Ex- pectation. Anemone (Garden) Forsaken. Angelica Lispiration. Angrec Royalty. Apple Temptation. Apple (Blossom) Preference. Fame speaks him great and good. Apple, Thorn Deceitfulcharms Apocynuni (Dog Vane) . . . Deceit. Arbor YiUf Unchanging friendship. Live for me. Arem (Wake Robin) . . . .Ardour. Ash-leaved Trumpet Fl< iwer Separation. Ash Tree (jrandeur. Aspen Tree Lamentation. Aster (China) Variety. After- thought. Asphodel My regrets fol- low _> on to the urave. Auricula Painting. Auricula, Scarlet Avarice. ' Austurtium Splendour. Azalea Temperance . Bachelor's Buttons Celibacy. Balm Sympathy. Balm, Gentle Pleasantry. £alm of Gilead Cure. Relief. Balsam, Red Touch me nut. Lnpatient re- solves. Balsam, Yellow Impatience. Barberry Sourness of tem- per. Barberry Tree Sharpness. Basil Hatred. Bay Leaf 1 change but in death. Bay ( Rose) RhododendronDatiger. Bewaro. Bay Tree Glory. Bay Wreath Reward of merit Bearded Crepis Protection. Beech Tree Prosperitj-. Bee Orchis Industry. Bee Ophrys Error. Belladonna Silence. Bell Flower, PyramidicalConstancj'. Bell Flower (small white)Gratitude. Belvedere I declare against yon. Betony Surprise. Bilberry Treachery. Bindweed, Great Insinuation. Bindweed, Small Humility. Birch Meeknets. Birdsfoot, Trefoil Revenge. Bittersweet : Nightshade. Truth. Black Poplar Courage. Blackthorn Dilticulty. Bladder Nut Tree Frivolity. .\iu- usemeut. Bluebottle (Century) . . . .Delicaey. Bluebell Constancy. Blue-flowered Greek Va- lerian Rupture. Bonus Henricus Goodness. Borage Bluritne.s.s. Box Tree Stoicisjn. Bramble Lowliness. En- vy. Rejnorse. Branch of Cnrrants You please nil. Bi-anch of Thorns Severity. H g- our. Bridal Rose Happy lovo. Broom Humility. N>;iit- I ness. Buckbean Calm repi'so. Bud of White Rose Heart ignorant of love. Bugloss Falsehood. I Bulrush Indiscnt oil. j Docility. Bundle of Reeds, with their Panicles Music. Burdock Impoitunity. I Touch me iwt. J^: THK LANG t' AG K OF FLOWERS. 817 Buttercup (Kingcup) Ingratitude. Chililishnesa. I'.iittcrtly Orchia Gaiety. Huttertly Weed Let me go. Cal)bage Profit. Cacalia Adulation. Cactus Warmth. Calla /Ethiopica Rlas^uificent. lieauty. f'alycanthus lii-nevolence. Camellia Japonica, Red. ..Unpretending excellence. Camellia Japonica, WhitePerfected loveli- ness. Camomile Energy in ad- versity. Canarj". Grass Perseverance. ("aiulytuft Indiflerence. Crtuterbury P.ell Acknowledj,'- ment. Ca;>e Jasmine I'm too happy. Canlamine Paternal error. Carnation, Deep Red Alaa ! for my I>oor heart. Carnation, Striped Reiusal. Carnation, V'ellow Disdain. Cardinal Flower Distinction. Catdifly Snare. Catcldly, Red Youthful love. Catclifly, White Retrayed. Cedar Strength. Cedar of Lebanon Incorruptible. Ct'dar Leaf I live for thee. Celandine (Lesser) Joys to come. Century Delicacy. Cereus (Creeping) Modest genius. Champignon... Suspicion. Chequered Fritillary Persecution. Cherry Tree Good education. Cherry Tree, White Deception. Chestnut Tree Do me justice. Luxury. Chick weed Rendezvous. Chicory Frugality. China Aster Variety. China Aster, Double I partake your sentiments. China Aster, Single I will think of it. China or Indian Pink Aversion. China Rose Beauty always new. Chinese Chrysanthemum. Cheerfulness un- der adversity. Christmas Rose Relieve my an- xiety. Chrysanthemum, Red .. I love. Chrysanthemum, White. .Truth. Chrysanthemum, Vellow. Slighted love. Cinquefoil Maternal affec- tion. Circjoa Spell. Cistus, or Rock Rose. . . .Popular favour. Cistus, Gum I shall die to- morrow. Citron Ill-natured beauty. Clematis Mental beauty. Clematis, Evergreen Poverty. Clt^bur Rudeness. Per- tinacity. Cloves Dignity. Clover, Four-leaved Be mine. Clover, Ri'd Induatr}-. Clover, White ' Think of me. < 'lobrea Gossip. Cockscomb, Am.iranth.. .Foppery. AtVec- tation. Singu- larity. Colchiciuu, or MeadowMy beat days are SallVon past. Coltafoot Justice shall be (lone. C(duinbiue Folly. Columhine, I'urp'e Resolved to win. Columbine, Red Anxious and trembling. Convolvulus Bond.s. Conv&lvulu3,Bhie (Minor) Repose. Night. Convolvulus, Major Extinguished hopes. Convolvulus, Pink Worth sustained by judicious and tender af- fection, Corchorua Impatient of ab- sence. Coreopsis Always cheerful. Coreopsis Arkanaa Love at first sight. Corirnder Hidden worth. Corn Riches. Corn, Broken Quarrel. Corn Straw Agreement. Corn Bottle Delicacy. Corn Cockle (ientility. Cornel Tree Duration. Coronell.a Success crown j year wishes. Cowslip Pensivene.ss. Winning grace 1 Cowslip, American Divine beauty. I You are my divinity. I Cranberry Cure for '\eart- I ache. ■nr.'i 'I 318 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Creeping Cerus Horror. Cress Stability. Power. Crocus Abuse not. Crocus, Spring Youthful glad- ness. Crocus, Saflfron Mirth. Crown Imperial Majesty. Power Crowsbill Envy. Crowfoot Ingratitude. Crowfoot (Aconiteleaved)Lustre. Cocoa Plant Ardour. Cudweed, American Unceasing re- membrance. Currant Thy frown will kill me. Cuscuta Meanness. Cyclamen Diffidence. Cypress Death. Mourn- ing. DAFFODIL— REGARD. I. Fair Daflodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon ; And yet the early rising sun Has not attained his noon ; Stay, slay, Until the hastening day Has run But to the even song, And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. II. We have short time to stay as ye, We have as fleet a spring. As quick a growth to meet decay As you or anything ; We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain. Or as the pearls of morning's dew. Ne'er to be found again. Daffodil Regard. Dahlia Instability. Daisy Innocence. Daisy, Garden I share your sentiments. Daisy, Michaelmas Farewell. Daisy, Party-coloured . . .Beauty. Daisy, Wild 1 will think of it. Damask Rose Brilliant com- ph^xion. V Dandelion Rustic oracle. Daphne, Odora Painting the lily Darnel (Ray (Jrass) Vice. Dead Leaves Sadness. Dew Plant A serenade. Dittany of Crete Birth. Dittany of Crete, White.. Passion. Dock Patience. Dodder of Thyme Baseness. Dogsbane Deceit. False- hood. Dogwood Durability. Dragon Plant Snare. Dragonwort Horror. Dried Flax Utility. Ebony Tree Blackness. Eglantine (Sweetbriar). ...Poetry. I wound to heal. Elder Zealousness. Elm Dignity. Enchanter'?, Nightshade.. Witchcraft. Sor- cery. Endive Frugality. Eupatorium ..Delay. Everflowing Candytuft.. ..Indifference. Evergreen Clematis Poverty. Evergreen Thorn Solace in adver- sity. Everlasting Never ceasing remembrance Everlasting Pea Lasting plea- sure. Fennel Worthy of all praise. Strength. Fern Fascination. Ficoides, Ice Plant Your looks freeze me. Fig Argument. Fig Marigold Idleness. Fig Tree Prolific. Filbert Reconciliation, Fir Time. Fir Tree Elevation. Flax Domestic indus- try. Fate. I feel your kindness. Flax-leaved Goldy-locks.. Tardiness. Fleur-de-Lis Flame. I burn. Fleur-do-Luue Fire. Flowering Fern Reverie. Flowering Reed Confidence in Heaven. Flower- of- an- Hour Delicate beauty. Fly Orchis Error. THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 31i) liation. indus- i'iite. I jur pss. ks. h burn. Ice in In. Ibeauty. Flytrap Deceit. Fijol's Parsley Silliness. Forget Me Not True love. For- get me not. Foxglove Insincerity. Foxtail Grass Sporting. French Honeysnckle Rustic beauty. French Marigold Jealousy. French Willow Bravery and hu- manity. Frog Ophrys Disgust. FuUtr's Teasel Misanthropy. Fmnitory Spleen. Fuchsia, Scarlet Taste. Garden Anemone Forsaken. Garden Chervil Sincerity. Garden Daisy I partake your sentiments. Garden Marigold Uneasiness. Garden Ranunculus You are rich in attractions. Garden S vge Esteem. Garland of Roses Reward of vir- tue. Germander Speedwell ..Facility. Geranium, Dark Melancholy. Geranium, Ivy Bridal favour. Geranium, Lemon Unexpected meeting. Geranium, Nutmeg Expected meet- ing. Geranium, Oak-leaved ...True friendship. Geranium, Pencilled Ingenuity. Geranium, Rose-scented . . Preference. Geranium, Scarlet Comforting.Stu- pidity. Geranium, Silver-leaved.. Reca'l. Geran'um, Wild . . .Steadtast piety. Gilliflower Bonds of affec- tion. Glory Flower Glorious beauty. Goat's Rue Reason, Golden Hod Precaution. Gooseberry An ticipation. (Jourd Extent. Bulk Grape, Wild Charity. Grass Submission. U- tility. Guelder Rose Winter. Age. Hand Flower Tree Warning. Harebell Submission. Grief Hawkweed Quicksighted- ness. Hawthorn Hope. Hazel Reconciliation. Heath Solitude. Helenium Tears. Heliotrope Devotion. Faith- fulness. HeUebore Scandal. Calum- ny. Helmet Flower (Monks- hood) Xnight errantry Hemlock You will be my death. Hemp Fate. Henbane Imperfection. Hepatica Confidence. Hibiscus Delicate beauty. Holly Foresight. ^oUy Herb Enchantment. Hollyhock Ambition. Fe- cundity. Honesty Honesty. Fas cination. Honey Flower Love, sweet and secret. Honeysuckle t~. .Generous and devoted affec- tion. Honeysuckle (Coral ) The colour of my fate. Honeysuckle (French). .. Rustic beauty. Hop Injustice. Hornbeam Ornament, Horse Chestnut Luxury. Hortensia You are cold. Houseleek Vivacity, Dom- estic industry. Housetonia Content. Hoya Sculpture. Humble Plant Despondency. Hundred-leaved Rose Dignity of mind Hyacinth Sport. Game. Play. Hyacinth, White Unobtrusive loveliness. Hydrangea A Boaster. Heartlessness, Hyssop Cleanliness. Iceland Moss Health. Ice Plant Your looks freeze me. Imperial Montague Power. Indian Cress Warlike trophy. Indian Jasmine (Ipomu;a)Attachment. Indian Pink (Double). . . Always lovely. Indian Plum Privation. I ris Message. Iris German Flame. Ivy Fidelity. Mar- riage. :v20 THK HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. J vy, Sprig nf.with toiulrilsAssiduona to please. J iic()b\s LiuUler Come cIdwii, .lap;in U'.se Beauty is yonr only attraction. .lasmino Amiability. .1 asmine, Capo Tran.sport of j' >y JasmiiR', Carolina Separation. .Jasmine, Indian 1 attach myself to yon. Jasmine, Spani.sli Sensnalit y. Ja.smine, Yellow tirace anti ele- gance. Jonquil T desire a return of affection. Judas Tree Unbelief. Be- trayal. J unipor Succour. Pro- tection. ,1 uatioia The perf ectionof female 1 iveli- ness. Kennedia . .Mental beauty. Ivini^cups Desire of riches. Laburnum Forsaken. Pen- sive beauty. Lady's Slipper Capricious beau- ty. Win me and wear me. Lagerstnemia, Indian Ebxpience. Lantana Uigour. Jjarch Audacity. Bold- ness. Larkspur Lightness. Lev- .ity. Larkspur, Pink Fickleness. li'irkspur, Purple Haughtiness. Laurel ... Glory. Laurel, Common. in flower Perfidy. Laurel, Ground Perseverance. Laurel, Mountain Ambition. Laurel-leaved Magnolia. .Dignity. Laurestina A token. I die if neglected. Lavender 73istru*t. Leaves (dead) Melancholy. Lemon Zest. Lemon Blossoms Fidelity in love. Lettuce Cold-hearted- ness. Lichen Dejection, Soli- tude. Lilac, Field Humility. Lilac, I'lirple First emotions of loVtf. Lilac, White Youthful inno- cence. Lily, Day (!o(iuetry. Lily, Imperial Majesty. Lily, White I'urity. Svveet- ness. Lily, YeUow Falsehood, (iai- ety. Lily of the Yalley Return of hap- piness. Linden or Lime Trees. . ..Conjugal love. Lint I feel my obli- gation. Live Oak liiberty. Liverwort Cimtidence. Iiic(jrice, Wild I declare against you. Lobelia Malevolence. Locust Tree Elegance. Locust Tree (green) Affection beyond the grave. London Pride Frivolity. Lote Tree Concord. Lotus Elo(juonce. Lotus Flower Estranged love. Lotus Leaf Recantation. Love in a mist Perplexity. Love lies Bleeding Hopeless, not heartless. Lucern Life. Lupine Voraciousness. Imagination, Madder Calumny. Magnolia Love of nature. Magnolia, Swamp Perseverance. Mallow Mildness. Mallow, Marsh Jlenelicencc. Mallow, Syrian Consumed by love. Mallow, Venetian Delicate beauty. Manchineal Tree Falsehood. Mandrake Horror. Maple Reserve. Marigold i^j;-/^' •^ "^.^-^ THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 321 Meserabryanthemum. . . .IdlfinosB. Mezoreon Uesire to please. Michaelmas Daisy Afterthous|ht. Mignionetto Your (jualities 8uri)as8 your charms. Milfoil War. Milkvetch Your piesonco softens my pains. Milkwort Hermitage. Mimosa (Sensitive I 'hint). Sensitiveness. Mint Virtue. Mistletoe I surmount diiS- culties. Mock Orange Counterfeit. Monkshood (Helmet Chivalry. Kn't- Flower) errantry. Moon wort Forgetfulness. Morning Glory AH'ectation. Moscliatel Weakness. Moss Maternal love. Mosses Ennui. Moaay Saxifrage A ffeetion. Motliorwort. Concealed love. Mountain Ash ... .' Prudence. Mourning Bride Unfortunate at- tachment. I have lost all. Mouse-eared Chickwccd. . Ingenious sim- plicity. Mouse-eared Scorpion (irass Forget me not. Moving Plant Agitation. Mudw(jrt Tranquillity. Mugvvort Happiness. Mulberry Tree (Bli^ok). . .1 shall not sur- vive you. Mulberry Tree (White)... Wisdom. Mushroom Suspicion. Musk Plant Weakness. Mustard Seed ... IndiUerence. Myrobalan Privation. Myrrh Gladness. Myrtle Love. Narcissus Egotism. Nasturtium Patriotism. Nettle Burning Slander. Nettle Tree Concert. Night-blooming Cereus... Transient beau- ty- Night Convolvulus Night. Nightshade Truth. Oak Leaves Bravery. Oak Tree Hospitality. Oak (White) Independence. U Oata. The witching soul of music. Oleander Beware. ( >live Peace. Orange blossoms Your purity equals your loveliness. Orange Flowers Chastity. Bridal festivities. Orange Tree Generosity. ( )rchi8 A Belle. Osier Frankuesa. Osmunda Dreams. Ox Eye . . . . .^ Patience. Palm Victory. Pansy Thoughts. Parsley Festivity. Pasque Flower You have no claims. Passion Flower Religious super- stition. Patience Dock Patience. Pea, Everlasting An appointed meeting. Last- ing pleasures. Pea, Sweet Departure. Peach Your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled. Peach Blossom I am your cap- tive. Pear Affection. Pear Tree Comfort. Pennyroyal Flee away. Peony Shame. Bash- fulneas. Peppermint Warmth of feel- ing. Periwinkle, Blue Early friendship Periwinkle, White Pleasures of me- mory. I Persicaria Restoration. I Persimon Bury me amid j Nature's beau- I ties. Peruvian Heliotrope Devotion. Pheasant's Eye Remembrance. Phlox Unanimity. Pigeon Berry Indifference. Pimpernel Change. Assig- nation. Pine Pity. Pine-apple You are perfect . Pine, Pitch Philosophy. Pine, Spruce Hope in adver- sity. mu £ii^ '■ t^ 322 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. t* m *'fGUA(IE OF FLOWERS. 32$ ibeau- attacli- le not rthy "I It »"■ |)na. ! of lo^«« (eulousy. of vir- lUovcly. Eoaebud, White Girlhood, Rosebud, Moss Confession of love. Rosebay (Rhododt'ndron)Beware. Danger Rosemary, Remembrance. Riidbeckia Justice. Rue Disdain. Rush Docility. Rye Grass Clvingeable dis- jjosition. Sivrt'ron Beware of excess SaflVon Crocus , . . M'rth. Satfion, Meadow . , My happiest days are past. Sage Oomestic virtue Sage, Garden Esteem. Sainfoin Agitation. St. John's Wort Animosity. Su- perstition. Sardony Irony . Saxifrage, Mossy Affection. Scabious U nf ortuuate lore. Scabious, Sweet Widowhood. Scarlet Lychnis Sunbeaining eyes, Schinus Religiousenthu- siaam. Scotch Fir Elevation. Sensitive Plant Sensibility. De- licate feelings. Senvy Ind itterence. Shamrock Light - hearted- ness. Snakesfoot Horror. Snaji'lragon Presumption. Snowball Bound. Snowdrop Hope. Sorrel Affection. Sorrel, Wild Wit ill-timed. Sdvrel, Wood Joy. Southernwood Jest. Bantering. Spanish Jasmine Sensuality. Speirniii)t Warmth of sen- timent. Speedwell Female fidelity. Speedwell, Genaander... Facility. Speedwell, Spiked Semblance. Spider Ophrys Adroitness. Spiderwort Esteem, notlove. Spiked Willow Kerb Pretensi n. Spindle Tree Your chai lus are engraven on my heart. ^t&T of Bethlehotn Purity. Stai'wort Afterthought. Starwort, American Cheerfulness in old age. Stock Lasting beauty. Stock, Ten Week Promptness. St onecrop Tranquillity. Straw, Broken Rupture of a contract. Straw, Whole Union. Strawberry Tree Esteem & love. Sumach, Venice Splendour. In- tellectual ex- cellence. Sunflower, Dwarf Adoration. Sunflower, Tall Haughtiness Sallow-wort Cure for heart- ache. Sweet Basil Good wishes. Sweetbrier, American Simplicity. Sweetbrier, Europepu I wound to heal. Sweetbrier, Yellow Decrease of love. Sweet Pea Delicate pleas- lues. Sweet Sultan Felicity. Sweet William Gallantry. Sycamore Curiosity. Sy ringa Memory. Syringa, Carolina Disappointment Tamarisk Crime, Tansy (Wild) I declare war against you, Teasel .Misanthropy. Tendrils of Climbing Plants Ties. Thistle, Common Austerity. Thistle, Fuller's Misanthropy, Thistle, Scotch Retaliation. Thorn, Apple Deceitful charm. Thorn, Branch of Severity. Thrift Sympathy. Thrnflwort '. Neglected beau- ty. Thyme Activity. Tiger Flower For once may pride befriend mo. Traveller's Joy Safety. Tree of Life Old age. Trefoil Revenge. Trouielia Nestoc Resistance. Trillium Pictum Modest beauty. Trutiie Surprise. Trumpet Flower Fame. [sures. Tuberose Dangerous plea- Tulip Fatne. Tulip, Red Declaration o£ love. H 324 THE HOxME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. Tulip, Variegated Beautiful eyes. Tulip, Yellow Hopeless love. Turnip ( charity. Tuasilage (■Sweet-scentud)Justico shall be done you. Valerian An acconimodat- iri,' disposition. Valerian, Greek Rupture. Venice Sumach Intellectual excellence. Splendour. Venus's Car Fly with me. Venns's Looking-glass Flattery. Venus's Trap Deceit. Vernal Grass Poor, but happy. Veronica. Fidelity. Vervain Enchantment. Vine Intoxication. Violet, Blue Faithfulness. Violet, Dane Watchfulness. Violet, Sweet Modesty. Violet, Yellow Rural happiness. Virginian Spider wort. . . .Momentary hap- piness. Virgin's Bower Filial love. Volkamenia May you be happy. Walnut Intellect. Strat- agem. Wall-flower Fidelity in ad- versity. Water Lily Purity of heart. Water Melon . .Bulkines.s. Wax Plant Susceptibility. Wheat Stalk Riches. Wldn A nger. White Jasmine. A miableness. White Lily Purity and mod- esty. White Mullein Good nature. White Oak , Independence. White Pink Talent, White Poplar T me. White Rose (dried) Death preferable to loss of iji nocence. Wortleberry Treason. Willow, Creeping Love forsaken. Willow, Water Freedom. Willow, Weeping Mourning. Willow-Herb Pretension. Willow, French Bravery and hu- manity. Winter Cherry Deception. W^itch Hazel A spell. Woodbine Fraternal love. Wood Sorrel Joy. Maternal tenderness. Wormwood . Absence. Xanthium Rudeness. Per- tinacity. Xeranthemum Cheerfulnsssun- der adversity. Yew Sorrow. * Zephyr Flower Expectation. Zuinia Thoughts of ab- sent friends. Uhf ICcttcf ellvitcr. i^'ijfl m: ►♦♦- ^f^cjVJLllY position in life demands letter- writing. A letter is the great link between parents and children, betveen lovers, between friends ; while in business relations it makes fortunes, or mars them. A good letter must, firstly, be absolutely correct in every mechanical de- tail ; then style comes into question ; then the matter, which must be intelligible to the meanest as well as the highest understanding. The great art of letter- writing is to be able to write gracefully and with ease, and no letter should wear the appearance of having been laboriously studied. The first point to bo observed in your letter is that you write in a clear, legible hand, a hand that a^nybody and everybody can read. You may fill your pages with the most exquisite and sparkling ideas, but if they caunot be read except to the torture of the peruser, your diamond thoughts lose all their glitter, and people to whom you write, instead of being anxious to receive a letter from you, will mentally groan at the very idea of its receipt, knowing the toil and trouble that awaits them in its perusal. Be patient, then, and plod on steadily until you write a bold, clear, clean hand, and never let a scrap of your writing pass from you that is not carefully executed. Never erase. It is much Vjctter, though wear3'ing the task, to com- mence all over again. An erasure is a sore to the eye. Orthography is next to be considered. Bad spelling is disgraceful, and many p(!Oj)le spell badly from simple carelessness. Head carefully the works of the best authors. Write extracts from these works, and you will intuitively spell correctly. Your sense will become otf'ended at a Hiisspelt word. Use the simplest language. Always have a dictionary (pocket) beside you, but never consult it unless you are in doubt. Once consulted, you should remember the word ever afterward. Never divide your words into syllables at the end of the lines unless you cannot htlp • '■"^.v :iii ^i 32G THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOIVEDIA. lie: ■I" Mi it. If you have space for the first syllable, let your hyphen be bold Thus : It is sometimes a great con- solation to me that, etc., ^Ic A word of one syllable must not be divided. Bring it bodily over to the next line. Compound words must be divided int ) the simple words composing them. Thus : War-whoo]), not warw-hoop ; In-ead-stuff, not breadst-uti". GRAMMAR. Place your verbs correctly at all hazards. Never use the adverb for the adjective, or the adjective for the adverb. Never take liberties with the relative pronouns, or mingle in dire confusion tense-s and moods. A careful study of the admiraljle grammar in this cyciopetlia will keep the letter writer in the straight path. PUNCTUATION. In order to have the meaning of words readily understood, it becoinos necessary to divide those words into paragraphs, sentences ai d clauses. by means of ])unctuation. As an instance of the absence of pu."'tuati(jn and the farcical result, just read this : Lost on King Street on Thursday evening last an umbrella liy an elderly gentleman with a carved ivory head. Take the following rules ami mark tliem well : Put a comma wlierever you would make a trifling pau.se, were you speaking ; as, " He came, he .saw, he conquered." A semicolon makes a longer pause, and an incomplete sentence ; as, " Julia is handsome ; Agnes is beautiful." The semicolon separates the sentence more distinctly than the comma. The colon marks a sentence which is complete in itself, but is f )llo\veil by some additional remark ; as, " Shun vice : it will lead to ruin." The colon is also used to |)recede a quotation, and point it off from the rest of the sentence ; as, Shake.s{)Gare soys : " Assume a virtue, if you have it not." A period is used to denote that a sentence is complete ; as, " A Ijird in the hand is worth two in the bush." The dash is used to denote a smlden pause, or abrupt change of .sense as, " I have loved her madly, wildly — but why .speak of her ?" CAPITAIi LKTTKltS. 327 ■re yon roUoweil " Thu lest of I have it liiviliii sense The interrogation point is used only after a question ; as, " Why did you say 80 ? " The interjection point is used only to denote an exclamntion ; as, " Alas ! all my joys liave flown ! " The parenthesis is used to enelose a portion of a sentence which if left out wouM not destroy the sense ; as, " 1 value tliis llower (a faded llower) very highly." The apostrophe is used to mark the possessive case, and also the omis- sion of a letter or letters in a word ; as, " Frederick's hair is black," or, "Gen'l Grant is getting old." The carat is used to mark an (emitted word, which word must he writ- ten immediately above it ; as, wet " What a day ! " A The hyplien is used to connect compound words, and fit the end of a line shows that more syllables are carried over to the next line. Quotation marks are used before and after every quotation, to separate and dehne it ; as, " Many are called, but few are chosen." CAPITAL LETTERS. The capital letters only set ajtart the sentences and paragraphs, but \vliile their proper use adds greatly to the beauty of an episth;, their omis- sion or impropei' use will make the pages present a po'i'eetly absurd apjjearance. Jk'gin every paragraph with a capital letter. Begin every sentence following a period with a capital lettei'. Begin all proper names with a capital letter. Begin all titles, as Lieut. Governors, Vice-President, General, Doctor, or Captain, with a capital letter. Bt!gin all names of places, as Montreal, St. (Catharines, Niagara, with a cajtital letter. Begin the words North, South, East, West, and their compounds and abbreviations, as North-east, S. W.. with a capital letter. Begin the names of Deity and Heaven, or the pronoun used for the former, as, in His mercy— Thou, Father, with a capital Ibttcr. Begin all adjectives foiined from th.; names of places or points of the compass, as L' glish. Northern, with a capital letter. ' greater mark of good-breeding and politencs-i, than the prompt reply to a letter. Never lose a moment, if possible, in replying to one. If the reply rec^uires delay, write to acknowledge receipt of the letter. Never reply by proxy if you are able to wi'ite yourself. Never write on a half-sheet of paper. Av(nd pedantry. Never wiite a congratulatory letter upon mourning-paper, even if you are in mourn inir. Never try to patch an ill -formed letter. If you add your own address to a letter, put it under your signature , thus : Very respectfully, RoiJEUT K. Wjiite, 154 R St., London, Ont. Never write an anonymous letter. Treat it with silent contempt. Never gossip. Friendly intelligence if you arc certain it is t^iie, may be fommunicated. * ].)atc every letter clearly and carefully. It is often of the utmost im- portance to know when a letter was written. Hit erect when writing, as, if you write constantly, a stoop v,'ill surely injure your figure and your health. Wo give examples of the forms of letters in general use. These will act as guides to the inexperienced. U % ''■.'Ik- '■ 330 THK HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.IiOIA. LETTEKS OF INTEODUCTION. Never seal a letter of introduction. Mention the business in which the party wlioni you are introducing is or was ennraged. Write the name of the party introduced in the left-hand corner of the envelojie containiiii,' the introduction. 'J'hus ; you wish to introduce Mr. Charles (J. ]). Roberts, of Frcdoricton, N. B., to Prof. Goldwin Smith, of Toronto. Direct yoiu' letter as below : tly /t/iC{mr/ 'tifl> If you want to be stylish, send your letter of introduction, with ymir card, by the servant at the private residence of the person to whom you arc introduced. Send a letter with your card if you present it at a uiti- •chant's ottice, INTRODUCING ONE LADY TO ANOTHER. uJ/it'.i offfi null m/ioi/iit'f iini f/i/nl /h'fiia ^/Ad. ■.//fyona-i a^'idi^. f'j i'l/wni licit /iiirf /ifuic/ tut d/ifok ,ic> iniicA, of /c(( aMiUfif uittf //lU f>ifti'(nc/((»t 4iit/f /iliu'f f'/ C'C>hUi/f\a/>/e /i aijfrfii'iififf Attiiif, ' J'i'/m c//. '^''»> LETTERS ON BUSINESS. 331 Introd acing a Young Lady Seeking Employ- ment. Brantkokii, June 1, 1883. Dkar Mr. Joxes : — The yonnj^ liidy whom tluH listter will luiike known to you is dosirous of obtiiin- in;,' employment in your city, and I use (iiir fiM aciiuaintancoshij) as the bridge to your good oflioes in her behalf. She has roceivefl a very liberal education and would prove of immense value to a family whoso young children need careful and judicious teaching. She is gentle, amia- ble, and willing. 1 trust you may be able to servo her. I am, etc.. Dear Mr. Jones, Your sincere friend, K. A. Ajm'Lkton. Mk. T. F. Jonks. Toronto. Introducing a Oentloman seeking a position in a Counting-house. KixusTON, June 1, 188;}. Mv OKA.K Sir : — Ivecognising your well-merited and ex- tensive inlliienoe in the commercial cir- cIl'S ill your city, I beg to introduce to you W. James Farms, who is desirous of (ihtiiining a clerkship in a oountiijj;- house, lie is a gentleman of capacity and ability. His character stands A 1, and he is as in- ing hand, I am, Yours, very ttuiy, Jacob Hill. JOSEI'II RlIlOUT, E8(]. Montreal. Introducing a Gentleman to a Lady Friend. Toronto, Juno 1, 1883. Mv DEAR Miss Buntivg : — My friend Mr. Robert George Brown by whom this letter will be presented, is about to settle in Clifton. As your hos- pitality is proverbial, laay 1 hope for a little slice of it for him / And I look for- ward to good reports from both of you as to the ri[iening of a friendship the seed of whicli is jiow so'Vn by Your very sincere friend, John (ji. Haxk. LETTERS ON BUSINESS. I Letters on business shouM be brief, to i the point, and clearly and cleanly written. i No nourishes either in diction or jienman- I ship. 1'hero is no time for suchornanjen- I tation in business. \ Ordering a supply of goods for a store in the Country. Recmna, N.W.T., Juno 1, 1883. Messrs Fulton, Michie & Co., Toronto. Gkntlemrx, — I have just opened a large grocei-y store in this place, ;»nd the prospects of sucoess seem assured. I should be happy to deal with yoiir tirm. I can refer you to Robinson & Charles, of 270 Front Street, 1'oronto. This being our lirst tratisaction, I shall be prepared to pay the Express Co. upon delivery of goods, if you will forward me your ac. with the usual cash discount by a previous mail. Enclosed please find order, which I should wish tilled as promptly as is con- sistent with your c nvcnience. Very respectfully, R. M. Mai'akthv. i Letter offering the MS. of a book to a Pub- lisher. I OriAWA, April 2, 1883. Messrs. Hunter', Hose ifc Co., Publishers, Toronto. Gentlemen, — I have just written a so- ciety novel of the pro.sent day, and wish to have it put \ii)on the market as soon as pi'acticable. Please ini\irm me if you are willing to i)ubl'sh it, and at what terms. This is my first novel, but under the name of " Daisy Davin " I have ontribu- ted quite a number of short stories to the la,tti Caaadiaii Muutlilii, and other popular publications. I may mention that my style is what i? tetmed " breezy," that ii, bright and crisp. Awaiting an early reply, I am, gentle- men. Very truly yours, (aIrs.) J. F. MuRR-iY. i : It m V: ^i;<; 332 THK HOMK, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOIMCDIA. ■|ii ^'Jl;tii Reply. 25 WKLi,iN(iToN St., ) ToKOXTO, April 4, 1883. j^ Mrs. J. F. Murray. Dear Madam, — Ha/itig made all our arrangoments for publications for the year, we are compelled to decline tiie oflur of your MS., and trust that you may be suc- cessful elsewhere. VVe are, dear Madam, Your obedient servants, Hl>TER, RoSi-f & Co., Ter D. A. R. Reqiuesting the Settlement of an Account. Barrik, July 30, 1883. Mr. T, W. Inuram. Dear Sir, — As we have a large payment to make at the end of next week, and as your account remains unsettled, we must beg of you to send us a check for sanie by Tuesday next. VVe are reluctant to press you, but we are pressed ourselves. V^ery reHpectfully, Smith & Brown. Requesting Payment of Rent. 27 Toronto St., Toronto. March 27, 1883. Mr. Patrick K. Chiselhurst. Dear Sir, — I must call your attention to the fact that, although your agreement for the house rented by you from me stip- ulates monthly payments in advance, you have failed to pay for three months and are now in arrears $100. If you fail to pay the account within six days I shall be reluctantly compelled to place the matter in the hands of my law- yer for collection. Very respectfully, Thomas Fraser. From a Lady in the Country ordering Goods. Maida Vale, Inoersoll, ) Jan. 18, 1882. ] Messrs. Robert Walker & Co. , King St. E. , Toronto. Gentlemen, — Please send me by Ex- press the following goods ; 12 yards of green gauze. 24 yards of gingham. 2 pair of six-button gloves, lavender colour, size (>], Dent's make. G pocket handkerchiefs, plain white, with oroad hem-stitched border. Also please send pattern of black satin of a good ({uality, price nuirked. Tlie goods uuist be sent to Ingersoll by rail, and to Mr. William (Jibson, who will pav C. O. D. Direct as follows : Mrs. Wilson Toft, Maida Vale, IngtrsoH. To the Father of a Young Lady, asking her hand in Marriage. DuFFERiN Avenue, Ottawa, \ Mar. 12, '83. \ Sir, — I venture to hope that you will call all your friendly feelings to my assist- ance, in considering a proposal I am about to lay before you, in which my happiness is completely concerned. For a long time past your daugliter, Ethe, has held a strong hold over my af- fections, and I have reason to believe that I am not indifferent to her. My po.sition is such as to warrant my belief that I could support her in the style of comfort vrhii;li she so well deserves, and which it has been your constant aim to provide for your children. As regards my character and disposition, I trust they are sufficient ly V, ell knov/n to you to give you cotiti- dence in the prospect of your child's hap- piness. I have not, however, ventured on any express declaration of my feelings, with- out Hrst consulting jou on the subject, as I feel persuaded that the straightforward course i:i always the best, and that a par- ent's sanction will never be wanting when the circumstances of the case justity its being accorded. Anxiously awaiting the result of your consideration on this important and iutei- esting subject, I remain, sir. Your most faithful and obedient servant, Edward L. Spri-W- To W. Parsons, Esq. Favourable^ Meadow Bank, March 13, 18815. My dear Edward Spring : I thank you very much for the luanly w LETTERS ON BUSINESS. 333 and honourable way in which you liave addressed me in reference to my dau;ih- ter's hand. I have long since jierceived that your attentions to her were of a marked cliaractor, and that they appeared to give her much pleasure. I know v- reason whatever to oppose your wishes, and, if I may jud^jo from the manner in which she received the communication from myself, ijuu will find a by no means unwilling listener. Dine with us to-morrow at six o'clock, if you are not engaged, and you will then have an opportunity of pleading your own cau"e. Meanwhile, believe me, with every cmitidence in your integrity and good feeling, Yours most sincerely, William Pauson.s. To E. L. Spring, Esq. Unfavourable. Meadow Bank, March 13, 1883. Dkau Sir : It is always painful to return an unfa- vourable answer, but such is unfortunate- ly my task on the present occasion. My daughter has fi>r a long time been etiK'tged to a gentleman whose character and position give her no cause to regret the engagement. At the same time she duly ajipreciates the compliment implied by your preference, and unites with me in the sincere wish that, as an esteemed friend, you may meet with a companion in every way calculated to ensure your hap- piness. Believe me, dear sir, Your sincere friend, William Pailsons. To E. L. Spuing, Esq. To a Widow from a Widower. St. Catharine St., Montreal, Nov. ]y, 1883. Mv DEAR Madam : I am emboldened to lay open to you the present state of my feelings, being so con- vinced of your good sense and amiable dis- position, that I feel assured you will deal candidly with me in your reply. Like yourself, 1 have been deprived of ♦he partner of my early life, and as I ap- proach the middle state of existence, I feel more and more the wnnt of some kin- dred spirit to share with me whatever years are reserved to me by Providence. My fortune is such as to enable me to sup- port a lady in the manner which I feel to be duo to your accomplishments and posi- tion, and I sincerely hope that you will think carefully over my proposal ; and, if you can make up your mind to share my fortune and affections, 1 trust that no ef- forts will be wanting on my part to en- sure you the happiness ytm so well de- serve. I need scarcely say that an early answer, on a matter so nnich connected with my future happiness, will bo a great favour to. My dear madam. Your devoted friend and admirer. ARTII au BohWELL, To Mu3. Vankoughnrt, A Young Man in Prince Arthur's Landing to his Betrothed in Toronto. Prince Arthuh'.s LANniNo, Dec. 13,18—. Dearest Elizaheth ; Y'ou have doubt less teceived letters from me lately, describing mj' situation here, and stating the projects that I had uvJer consideration. In one of those letters, al- lusion is made to a speculation in land in the nei'.'hbourhood of thi& place, with the remark that, if it were succeaaful, I should be able to make good my promise, and claim you as tlie partner of my joys and sorrows for life. My most sanguine ex- pectations have been more ihan realized. Herewith you will receive a draft on the Ontario Bank, in your city, for ^500, of which I pray you to make use in provid- ing such articles as may be necessary to replenish your wardrobe, in anticipation of our speedy marriage, after my return home. Pray present your dear mother with my afi'ectionate regards, and say that I can never forget, now that I have the power, that it is my duty to assist and cherish her declining years. I also fend some few trinkets, made of Leadville gold, which you will please present on my be- half to your sisters, as tokens of my bro- therly regard ; for such I now consider my relations toward them. With ray kindest respects to all, and "'«!ir l) IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V / O // & :/ €<. «/, IX) LL 1.25 :t itt 12.0 i£ 116 ^ '^ ^■v \\ <^ ^> ^^^ #^> P?A\^^ % Q, \ 834 THE IIOMr;, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ■ trusting that I may soon be permitted to embrace my dearest, 1 remain Her devoted MiUK Tapcky. On a Birthday. London, June 1, 1883, My DEAKE8T Fannie : How sad it is that I am hindered from being with you on this dearest of all days of the year. Accept, dearest, the enclosed portrait. I feel that its original is too deeply stamped on your heart to require any effigy to re- mind yo\i of him. It is, however, the most appropriate present I could ofter to the cause of my happiness on this brightest of all days. God grant that every succeeding year you may increase in all tha'. is charming in body and mind, and believe me, My dearest Fannie, Your own John. A Complaint. Dear Maudie July 10, 1883. It is with pain 1 write to you in aught that can seem like a strain of reproach, but I confess that your conduct last night both surprised and vexed me. You re- ceived Mr. Watson's attentions in so marked a way that I feel it due to your- self to comment on your conduct. Be- lieve me, lam in no way given to idle jealousy ; still less am I seitlsh or un- manly enough to wish to deprive any girl on whom I have so firmly fixed my afiec- tions of any pleasure to be obtained in good society. But my peace of mind would be lost for ever, did I believe that I had lost one atom of your affactiona. Pray write and assure me that you still preserve your undivided aiffection for Your devoted but grieved Fred. Seeking a Clerkship. Toronto, May 4, 1883. Gentlemen : — Perceiving by your advertisement in the Globe that you are in want of a clerk, I beg to inclose testimonials, and venture to hope that from previous experience in the line of business you pursue I should bo of some use in your establishment. My habits of life are such as to assure regularity in the discharge of my duties, and I can only assure you that, should you honour me with your confidence, I shall spare no pains to acquit myself to your satisfaction. I remain, gentlemen, Your obedient servant, Harry Sanderson. To Messrs. Griffiths & Co. Application I'or Subscription to a Charity. October 8, 1883. Sir [or Madam] :— I take the liberty of inclosing a prosptctus of an institution which is likely to have some beneficial ef- fect upon the poor in our neighbourhood. [IJere state particulars.] From yt)ur well- know liberality, I trust you will excuse this appeal from a stranger in furtherance of an act of benevolence, and remain, Sir [or MadamJ, Your most obedient servant, Julia [or JoiinJ Smith. Declining. College Avenue, ToRo^To, 2!)th October, 1883. Mr. Thomas Jones regrets exceedingly that the numerous applications for kind- red purposes near home render it impos- sible for him to comply with the request contained in Mr. [or Mrs.] 's letter of the 18th October. A Friend in the Country Asking a City Friend About Board, Cornwall, August 14, 1883. Dear William— In a few days I will have occasion to >-i8it Montreal, and, be- ing a comparative stranger, I wish to bo as near the business centre as pos.sibk', though located in a private boardiiig- house, as I have a strong aversion to hottl life. My object in writing is to ask you to recommend me to some private board- ing-house, and to engage rooms in advance of my arrival, so that I may proceed thither at once on landing from the cars. Leaving the selection entirely to yourself, I LETTERS ON BUSINESS. 33: ;> and hoping to hear from you soon, I re- main Yours faithfully, Isaac Jenkins. Application for a Loan. Stratford, July 27, '83. Dear Sir — I am temporarily embar- rassed through the failure of my Toronto correspondent to remit. The sum of $2,- 000 would relieve my present necessities, but [dislike borrowing moneyof profession- al lenders, and would rather solicit the aid (if some one of my numerous friends. My tirst thought was of yourself ; and, there- fore, my object in writing is to ask if you can spare mo the required sum without ill any way interfering with your business arrangements ? You may rely upon it re- turned to you on the loth prox., and perhaps beioro that time. Pray reply at your earliest convenience, and oblige Your obedient servant, George White. To Philip Brown, Esq. Reply in the Afflrmative, YoNOE St., Toronto, July 30, '83. Dear Sir — Your letter of yestsrday was duly received, and it gratifies me to be able to say that you can have the loan asked for. Inclosed you will find a check for the amount, which you will retani at the date named and oblige, Y'ours, very sincerely, P. Brown. To Geo. White, Esq. Declining to Lend Money. Quebec, April 5th, 1883. My Dear Sir— I have always made it a principle in life never to borrow or lend money, not even when members of my own family have been concerned. As iJhakespeare says : " Noitlier a borrower nor a lender be, For loan oft loses both itself and friend." I therefore trust you will excuse con- duct which may seem harsh and uncor- teous on my part, but which I have ever found to be the safest, and, in the long run, the kindest course for all parties. I remain, my dear sir. Yours very faithfully, Joseph Johnson. To Howard Wells, Esq. Soliciting Renewal of a Promissory Note. Paris, Ont., May 7, '83. (Jentleaien — You have in your posses- sion my note for §1,000, payable May 14, wVich i am sorry to say I cannot meet at maturity, owing to a combination of cir- cumstances adverse to my interests, and not anticipated. If you will do me the favour to renew it for ninety days, with interest added, I do not .doubt my ability to redeem it when due. A compliance with this request will confer an obligation upon, and oblige. Your obedient servant, Thomas Moran. To Messrs. Sadlier tt Co., 30 William St., N.Y. Offering a Loan of Money for Business Purposes. Belleville, Dec. 15, '83. Dear Robert — Rowing that you are desirous of starting in business for your- self, I write to say thn.t it is in my power to offer you a loan of two thousand dollars (§2,000) without interfering in any way with my own business expenditures. I trust that you will let me have a friend's privilege, and accept the money on suoU terms as will best suit j'ou. With best wishes for your success. I am your friend, Austin Kemp. Robert Rowr, Esq. •'' Letters of condolence, though a neces- sity between friends, are very diHictilt to compose, since the more earnestly and touchingly they are written, the more deeply will they probe the wounds still bleeding under the stab of affliction. The shorter such letters are, the better. Lot them be short and sincere, and always wind up with a hope that Providence will assuage the grief with v/hich it has pleased Him in his far-seeing wisdom to afflict your friend. S36 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. \ } REPLIES TO ADVERTISEMENTS. In replying to advertisements never omit to mention the name of the paper in wliicli the advertisement appeared, also its date, and a brief allusion to the matter in the advertisement. Be as concise as possible, covering the ground in a few well chosen sentences. Book-Keeper. 128 IsAUKLLA St., Touonto, October 20, 1883. To Messrs. Frank Smith & Co. : Gentlemen — In reply to your adver- tificment in tliis day's 'Jclegram for a com- petent book-keeper, I respectfully beg to ofler myself as candidate for that position. I have been in the employment of Mr. Thomas Thompson, in this ci'y, the large dry-goods store — in the capaci-y of book- keeper for the last three years, and am about to leave on the Ist proximo, as Mr. Thompson is about to retire from busi- ness. Mr. Thompson has authorized me to refer to him in reference to character and ability. I can also refer to Messrs. Rode «fc Thorn, Equity Chambers, with whom I clerked for a year and a half. Hoping to be fortunate enough to suit your requirements, I am, gentlemen. Respectfully, Jo.SEI'H ROBIN.SON. General Employment. Prescott, 11th Sept., '33. Sir— I hasten to reply to your adver- tisement in the Montreal Star of to-day. I am most desirous of obtaining employ- ment, and would not consider present em- olument so much an object as the prospect of a permanent and respectable situation. I am a young man (age 21), and single. 1 have received a good conmiercial educa- tion, and am versed in book-keeping and.^. accounts generally. In other respects I am willing to render myself generally useful, and, although I have not hitherto filled a situation, I doubt not but that in a short time 1 shall be able to fulfil any duties assigned to me. In the event of your doing me the honour to solect me for the proferred em- ployment, I could furnish you with satis- factory testimonials as to character, and could, if necessary, provide guarantees for fidelity. Trusting that I may have the honour of hearing from you in reply, I remain, sir. Your obedient servant, JO.SEPFi L'E.STKANOE. To W. Henry Morcmn, 20 St. James St. From a Young Man to a Friend Soliciting a Situation. St. John, N. B., March 28, 1883. Dear Edward : When you left Halifax, you w^re kind enough to proi.iise that should it be in your power to forward my interest In any manner you would feel a pleasure in so doing. I am now in want of a position, my former employer having sold his busi- ness, and his successor Iiaving, as he in- forms me, a sufficient number of hands fi>r all the work ho is likely to have. If, therefore, you should hear of any situation or employment which you consider likely to suit me, either in my own bisinesss, that of a clerk, or in any other in which I can make myself useful, your recom- mendation would greatly oblige, and be of material service to, Dear Edward, Yours very truly, John James. Asking Permission to Refer to a Persoa Newcastle, July 7, '83. Dear Sir : As I have had the honour of being known to you for some years, during which period I trust my conduct has im- pressed you favourably, I take the liberty of soliciting at your hand the following favour : Messrs. Sibthorp, of Beaver Street, New York, are in want of a correspondent at London, and as I am about to proceed there on some aflfairs of my own, and shall probably take up my residence in that capital for some years, L am anxious to secure a post which appears to me in everj REPLIES TO ADVERTISEMENTS. 337 satia- •, and les for our of NOB. citing a 1883. vjro kinti it be in at In any ire in so position, bis bnsi- as he in- cf bands ave. lf> situati'in ler likely , isincsss, in whicli Lir recoin- and be I James. Persoa ■7, '83. of being IS, during It bas iii>- Ibe liberty 1 following Ireet, New |ondent at ) proceed I and shall jo intliat Inxious to le in every way eligible, and accords with my views exactly. As a matter of course, Messrs. Sibthorp desire testimonials as to my capacity and integrity, and as you are in a position to speak positively on these points, I have written to ask you whether I may so far trespass on your kindness aa to mention your name by way of reference. Should you kindly grant this request, I need scarcely assure you that my endea- vour will be to prove both to Messrs. Sib- thorp and yourself that you have not been mistaken in your opinion of me, while I shall ever feel grateful for this further in- stance of the interest evinced by you in the welfare of Your truly obliged, Waltek Mott. To Mr. GsoRGE Lewls, M.P. Ottawa. Clerk. 29 Grove St., Quebec. November 16, 1883. Mr. Isaac Waters. Sir, — I see by this day's Chronicle that you are in want of a competent clerk, and 1 respectfully beg to apply for the posi- tion. Owing to the financial difficulties of my late employers, Messrs. Kendrick & Worts, with whom I was clerk for eight years, I am out of employment. I can refer to either of these gentlemen for a testimonial as to my industry, good con- duct and ability. I may add that I am a total abstainer. Hoping to receive a favourable reply, I am, Respectfully, John Collins. Cook. 100 West 28th St., New York, March 18, 1883. Mrs. William Howard. Respected Madam, — Having seen your advertisemeh", for a plain Cook in this day's iVurld, 1 respectfully apply for the place. I can cook plain joints and do all man- ner of plain cooking, as my present em- ployer, Mrs. James Boswell, is willing to testify. As Mrs. Boswell is going to Eu- V rope on the 1st of April, I will be out of place on that day. A line to Mrs. Bos- well will satisfy all iiifjuiries in regard to my charucter and capacity. Respectfully, Jane Matthews. Governess. Beverley St., Toronto, July 27, '83. Mrs. E. F. Jarvis. Madam, — In reply to your advertise- ment in to-day's Mail for a Governess to teach three little girls French, German and English, I hasten to inform you that I am graduate of Pickering College ; that I have resided one year in Paris and five months in Vienna, sojourning in both capitals for the purpose of completing my knowledge of French and German. I have been Governess in the family of Mr. George F. Witmore, but owing to the death of my dear little pupil, their only daughter, Ada, I have been thrown out of employment. In addition to my College and Academy testimonials, I beg to refer to Mrs. Witmore, Holly Park, Montreal, and to the Rev. Mr. Brooks, St. Mat- thew's Church. H oping to be favoured by your selec- tion, I am, madam, Yours respectfully, Miriam J. Packard. A few Lines Accomp'uiylng a Gift. A wedding gift. 200 Bloor St., Yorkville, June 18, 1883. Nelly Shuter sends her best love, and best wishes, to Susie Lorimer, and a little bracelet as a souvenir of an event that Nelly trusts will ever prove as happy and auspicious as she wishes it to be. Christening Gift. Heath House, June 18, '83. God-papa sends little Mamie a coral, to enable her to cut her teeth, but not the acquaintance of Joseph Chambers. 338 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Flowers. 15 Spadina Avenuk, 19 July. Roses become Miss Irwin ao much, that Mr. Barnett earnestly hopes to see the accompanying bunch in Miss Irwin's cor- sage this evening at the Grand Opera House. Music. 13 Chestnut St., Hamilton, 28th November, '83. Mr. John Strachan presents his com- pliments to Miss Delaraore and beys to send her a few selections from the operas, her singing last night at Mr, Hamlyn'a having reminded him of the most celebra- ted prima donnas. VAEIOUS FOEMS OF INVITATIONS. NOTE CF INVITATION. i''li' Wi la t^(6M ^{^innce ^^oa^^e and /tead l/ial /le 77iap 6e aiiaoLed la accam/ianu Aen la=77io-vy-aul cilentnijf la lAe nonu 0/ ana ff €rra Aru'cntine Republic. , Austria | Vienna. Heljfiiim jBruH^els RolcMichistan Kelat Caiulahar I Yakoub Khan . Kctoho iTu Due. TITLB. Klnir. Shah . . Klntf. Monchoboo. Santiaj^o ... Berlin . Hrn/.il lidliha'a Bolivia Borneo iuirman Empire Chili (^hnia jPekin Viisia. Uica 8an Juse . . . Da!iMni>^y | Dahomey. . . Uciiiimrk jCopenhagen Kirypt I Cairo Euailor jliuito Kiji lalaiids France (iermaii Empire \ Prussia !■ Saxony anil States ) Luliei k ■» ., HamhurK L^"^^* Bremui. ...j'""'"^- Bavaria \ t» Wurteraber^' | o Baden V 2 He.'ise-DarmstaUt L 3_ Alsace Lorraine ) "< Great Britain Greer Guatemala Hayti Honduras Italy .lapan Kliokan Liberia Madagascar .\le.\ico Montenegro Mosquito Morocco Muscat Netherlands New Granada ' Bogota Nicaratfua |Manaj,'ua Norway :Ohrisiiaaia . . Orange Free States 1 Bloemfontein. ParuKuay i Asuncion .... Andorra A. Querada list Syndic. Buenos Ayres. . . jsenor Avellameda ,. .. jPremdeiit. . Kmperor . . Kintf Khan Kmperor .. Khan President.. Sultan King PreHident . . Emperor... Kio de Janeiro. Bokhara La Paz Francis Joseph I Leopold II .Mir Nasa Khan Pedro II Mozaff'ireil di Adolpho Ballivian Abdul .Munein Mendooiimen. . . .• Errazuriz Tsaetcen J. M. Uuardia President Adahoonzon K'ng. Christian I.\ Kin(f Ismail Pasha Khedive.. Doi\ Antonio Borreio Presideiil. Uvalan jCeded to Great Britain King Paris Jules Grevy President I tVilliau) : Em))eror . Munich . . . Stuttji^art . . rarlsruhe . Darmstadt. Ludwig II Kinff Charles I KhiK Frederic iO. Duke.. . Louis III !a. Duke... Lort^on . Athens, Victoria Uueen Goorffe I King Guatemala I Don I. Kuflno Barrios Preiident . . Port au Prince . . Gen. B. Canal I President . Comayaik'ue Home Tokio Khokan Gen. J. M. Medina President Humbert I King Mut.suhito Emperor.. ,Kban.. .. Monrovia IJas. S. Payne President' Tananarivo Kamavolo U t^ueen . ..* Mexico Gen. PorHria Diaz President- Cetijfue Blewflelds . . Fez Persia Peru '. ] Portugal Kouniania Rus.sia '.,. Sarawak Sandwich Islands San Salvador Servia Siani Spiin \ __ Switzerland .... S Aeden St. Domingo..'./ „„,. „>,^...^,. }^'m ConsUntinopl }J™«^a.v Montevideo ^^Rezuela Caracaa.... Nicholas I Hospodar .. Tamaso King Mulai Hassan Sultan MiHcat iSeyyed Toorkee bin Said.. .. 'Imaum Amsterdam i VViliiam III j King . Don Santiago Perez : | President ... Don Vincente Cuadra President. .. Oscar II. (f Sweden I 1. H. Brand President. . . John B. Gill PresideLt . . Naasir ed Din Shah Senor Manuel Prado j President . . , Luis I I King Charles | Hospodar. ., Alexander III i Emperor 40,tX)0,000: 7,000,000] 21,000,010 20,0001 1, "77,6001 38,000,0001 .'i,2.'it,S2r 2,000,000: ll.OtiO.OOOl 2,00(1,000 2,(K)0,000 l,7.'iO,000 8,000,000 2,a.i0,000' 415,C00000 185,000 300,000 1,!»«8,5U0! 5,800,00t)i 1,146,0001 250,00ol 3fl,lH)6,788 ih 194,172 27,2!) 1,007 2,070.220 «3,.571 4.5t,041 156,229 6,2?1,516 I,!t70,l32 1,670,689 »3it,»44 1,571,971 2!),3j7,1I)» 1 700,000 1,200.000 9(i0,0C0 360,000 27,4S2,174 34,338,400 1,000,(00 718,000 3,000,000 9,400,0001 286,0001 Teheran Lima ... Lisbon Bucharest St. Petersburg.. Kuching Honolulu San Salvador.... Belgrade Bang Kok Matlr'id Berne Stockholm San Domingo... "e., Charles Brooke Santiago David Kalakaua Senor Andres V.ille Milan Obrenovitoh Chau Fa Cbule Long Korn. Don Alfonso XII M. Scherer Oscar II Gen. Ig. Gonz.al' z Abdul Hamid II Don Jose Elian ri I President A. Quzman Blanco | President Rajah . King President. . King King Kmg President. . King President . Sultan . 7,000,000 1,500,0001 4,000,0001 3,000,000; 300.0001 1,807,000 60,000 1,400,000 8,000,0X1 3,374,000 4,436,0001 6,400,000 80,586,014 200,000- 73,000| 600,000 1 1,5>K),0J0 5,700,000 16,835,.')06l 2 900 000 4,530,000 250.000 45,000,000 450,0001 1,800,000 1 Area Sipiare M.U's. 17.5,000 30(1,000 60(),()0<> 190 1,000,000 268,000 12,.'i00 I60,0(K> 3,000,000 235.000 318,000 300 ,( OO 20t,3OO 144,000 5,300.000 16,260 i4,6ift 175,800 300,0u0 204,825 135,80»J 746,042 5,77i> 5.21 4 76 7.44 2fi,5i'0 7,600 .5,712 13,964 2r),7f(^ 121.115 19,05'J 16,000 11,7)8 47 003 98,154 266,500 2'.'5,lliJO 346,615 450.000 34,001 25,000 17(i.(X)() 12,685 333,000 111. 000 121,000 70 000 86,000 648,000- 558.0U0 •i4,491 27,500 7,710,882 ""o.RW • 7,, 500 12600 260,000 19;),fi(W 15,991 128,776 18 00O 2,210i(KK) 75,000 420 000 ii 308 THE HOMK. FAUM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Populations of the Principal Cities of the Old World. Population, London. Ki.kIimkI :5,88'.'.0!»'2 Fooiliow, China '2.0(M),00() I'aris, Franco 'J.OOO.OOO I'ekin, Cliiniv 1,04H,814 Jeddo, Japim 1, ">.")♦, 848 Canton, CliinR l,'2M,m) ('onHt'inoiik', Turkey. .1,07 :">, 000 Boniliiiy, India (Md.ti.'tt) Culiuttu, Int'ia (;iti,24',) Berlin, Frunrtia 828,013 GlasKow, Scotland. . . . 477,144 Vienna, Au.stria til 7,")! 4 St. l'etersl)ur(,', J^UMHJa. ti80,(M)0 Jtio dc Janeiro, 15ni7,il. 420,000 Liverpool, England. . . 4'.i;{,.S4() BirnnuKliani, Kni,'lHnd. ;(4;{,(;!l(i Manchester, Knudaiid.. .'dri,()(;.5 Edinburgli, Si.otland. . 1!N;,500 Population. Lyonn, France 32.5,000 Dul.lin, Inland 245,722 Madrid, Spain 23r),0(M) LeedH, England 209,201 Sheffield, " 23IMM7 Hristol, " 182..524 Belfast, Ireland 174,;V.)4 AinHterdam, Holland. . 21.'i,(J00 Cairo, Egypt .Sl.^.SHH Lisbon, Portugal 224,003 Handjurg, (Jernianv. ... 337,040 BruHHels, Belgium..". . . . 172,000 Dresden, Sa.xonv 177,005 Munich, P.avaiia I'.tO.OOO Xaples, Italy 448,74:} Rome, " 244,484 (Senoft, " l:iO,2()!» Palermo, " 21»,3'J8 Population, Venice, Italy 128,001 Turin " 207,770 Florence, " Iti7,0!»:{ Milan. " 200,000 Copenhngen, Denmark 181,201 Stockholm, Sweden. ... llJo.OOO Antwerj), Belgium 127,000 Ghent, " 121,4()!> Damascus, Syria 120,000 Smyrna, Turkey 1.50,000 Prague, Bohemia 157,275 Ale.\andria. Egypt 2:W,888 Marseilles, France 30:"),000 Bordeaux, *' I'.Mi.OOO Lille, " .... l.-)(i,000 Melhinirne, Australia.. 25(!,501 Sydney, Aus.,* suburbs 20(1,000 Auckland, N. Zealand.. :il,400 Kumber of Plants per Acre, Number of Plants on Treks that can bk Planted on an Acre ok (Jround at the Followinu DisTANoKH Apart. Feet apart. A' umber oj Sumberof I'lanls. Feet apart. 1 by 1 43,5(10 -■ '• li Ifl.WO " 1 21,-hO " a 10,.S!)0 " 2* (J,1»I19 " 1 14,fi-J0 " 2 7,'.'()0 •' 3 4,H40 " 3i 3,r)".'i " 1 10,biH) " 2 .'J,445 «' 3 3.(i;t'1 "4 2,722 " 4i 2,1,S1 " 1 8,712 2 2i 3 3 3 8J 4 4 4 4 4i 6 Kumber o/ | Number of flants. Fei^t apart. X umber of Ptanlt. r. by .■> *• 5 " 5 " 6 " 6i 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 2 4,3.^0 ' 15 by 1.5. •?,i)04 IH .2,178 I 17 .1,742 j IS .1,417 I 19 .1,210 . 20 .1.031 1 24 7 888 I 2,1 8 . 9 . 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. How to Estimate Crops per Acre. Frame together four light 8tick.s e.xactly a foot scjuare inside, and with this in hand walk into the field and select a spot of fair average yield, and lower the frame square over as many heads as it will en- close. Shell out the heads thus enclosed carefully, and weigh the grain. It is fair to i)re8nme that the proiluct will he the 43,' COth part of an acre's produce. To prove it, go through the field and make ten or twenty similar calculations, and estimate by the mean of the whole num- ber of results. It will certainly enable a farmer to make a closer calculation of what a field will produce than he can do by guessing. 680 i .0:J7 j 4-!5 1 360 I S02 2.57 222 16.. " 17., " 18.. " It).. " 20.. " 24.. " 2,-... " 27.. " 30. " 40.. " 50.. " 60 "66.. 163 170 1,W I:i4 120 lOH 7.5 09 5» 48 27 17 12 10 A Mile Measure. A standard English mile, which is the measure that we use, is 5,280 feet in length, 1,700 yards, or 320 rods. A strip one rod wide and one mile long, is two acres. By this it is easy to calculate the quantity of land taken up by roads, and also how much is waited by fences. The Creeds of the World. Christians 380,000,000 Buddhists 300,000,000 Other Asiatic Religions 2()9.000,000 Mohammedans 105,000,000 .lews 7,000,000 Pagans 200,000,000 193 170 150 i:!4 120 lOli 75 69 59 48 27 17 . 12 . 10 13 the feet in A strip is two late the ids, anJ looo.ooo 1000,000 1000,000 looo.ooo 1000 OOO looo.ooo A A A A A A A Ai Ai A Ai A Ai Ar A I Au MISCELLANEOUS "^ABLES FOR REFERENCE. 369 Table— Showing the Principal Countries of the Worid, their Population, Eeligion, and Government. NAm or CouNTRT. China RniUh Kmlpire KuHHla United SUtca France AustrlA and HiiDKary .... Japan Great llrltaln and Ireland. Gtrinivn Empire Prussia Turkey lUly Spain Brazil Mexico Sweden Persia Belgium Bavaria Portugal Netherlands Colombia Chill Switzerland Peru Bolivia Norway Argentine Republic W'urteniburn Oeinnark Venezuela Greeee Guatemala Ecuador Paraguay liiheria San Salvador Hayti Nicaraj{ua Uruituay San Uomingo Costa Rica Sandwich Islands Population. Capital. Form o( Oovemment. 45^0OO,00<) Pckin Duddhist Monarchy 22fl,Sl7, 108 London Protestant Monarchy 85,68,1,04.^ St. PcterHburt' .. Greek Church ....Monarchy BO, 15'2,5.'>9 Washington Protestant Republic 30,102,921 Paris Roman Cathidic . . Rtpublic 35,904,436, Vienna Roman Catholic .. Monarchy 32,7!)4,81)7|Vcddo Shinto iMonarchy 81,028,3.18 London Protestant Monarchy ..% 42,72(l,844|llorlln Protestant Ilmperial Confederation. 2.S,772,r>(i2, Berlin Protestant IMonarchy "22,0()0,0O0iCim8tantinople ..'Mohammedan ....'.Monarchy 20,801,154 Rome Roman Cathidic .. [Monarchy l«,tJ42,000| Madrid | Roman Catholic . . ' Monarchy 0,448,233| Rio Janeiro Roman Catholic .. iMonarchy 9,173,000, Mexico .Roman Catholic ..Republic 4,383,291 Stockholm Protestant i Monarchy 4,400,000 Teheran Mohammedan .... [Monarchy 6,2.')3,»>2 1 j Brussels Roman Catholic . . iMonarchy 6,024,832, Munich i Roman Catholic ..IMonarchy 3,996,152 Lisbon , Roman Catholic ..Monarchy 3,809,527 JThe HaKuo ProtcsUnt 'Monarchy 2,913,343; Boffoto Roman Cathullc 2,00i,447, Santiago iRoman Catholic 2,600,147 Berne {Protestant 3,199,000|Lima 'Roman Catholic 1,987, 852, Chuqulsaca [Roman Cathollo l,817,237JChri8tiana Protestant. 1,730,922 Buenos Ayros.... Roman Catholic .. 1,881, 505; Stuttgart Protestant l,&74,000|Copoiiha!;;en ....Protestant.. 1,784,194 Carraccaa ! Roman Catholic .. 1,500,631 1 Atlien.s lOrcek Church .... l,030,000|Guatomala Iloman Catholic .. tl,800,000'(iulto Roman Catholic ... 221,079 Asuncion Roman Catholic . 718,000 Monrovia 1 Protestant 434.520!«iati Salvador. ... |Roman Catholic .. t672,O0O Port au Prince . . IRoman Catholic . . 85U,0OOl Managua jRomau Catholic . . 4.50,000; Monte Video .... Roman Catholic .. t250,0Oo]San Domingo.. ..; Roman Catholic .. 105,000:San Jose Roman Catholic . t71, 000 Honolulu Protestant. Ropubiic Republic , Republic . Republic , Republic . Monarchy . Republic Monarchy .Monarchy , Republic , Monarchy Republic , Republic , Rorablic , [".dpublic . Republic Republic Ropubiic Republic Republic Republic Republic Data o( Ceniu*. X871 1871 1871 1880 1878 1860 1875 1871 1875 1876 1871 1870 1872 1874 1876 1870 1873 1876 1868 1876 1871 187S 1870 1871 1861 1875 1869 1875 1874 1873 1870 1866 1873 1871 1870 1876 1873 1870 Estimated since Peace of 1878. t Estimated. Names and their Signification. Aaron, Hthrew, a mountain. Abel, Hebrew, vanity. Abrahmn, Hehrew, the father of many. Adolphus, Saxon, happiness and help. Albert, Saxon, all bri}{ht. Alex.ander, ih-cek, a helper of men. Alfred, Saxon, all peace. Ambrose, Greek, immortal. Amos, Hebrew, a burden. Andrew, Greek, courageous. Anthony, Latin, flourishing. Archibald, German, a bold observer. Arnold, German, a maintainer of honour. Arthur, British, a strong man. Augustin,' } •^'*''"' venerable, grand. X Baldwin, German, a bold winner. Bardulph, German, a famous helper. Barnaby, Hebrew, a prophet's son. Bartholomew, Hebrew, the son of him who made the ■ voters rise. Beaumont, French, a pretty mount. Bede, Saxon, prayer. Benjamin, Hebrew, the son of a right hand. Bennet, Latin, Idessed. Bernard, German, bear's heart. Bertram, German, fair illustrious. Bon. face, Latin, a well-doer. Brian, French, having a thundering voice. Cadwallader, British, valiant in war. Cffiaar, Latin, adorned with hair. Caleb, Hebrew, a dog. 370 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.^JDIA. Cecil, Latin, dim-flighted. Charles, Oerman, noble-spirited, Christopher, Greek, beariug Christ. Clement, Latin, niild-tempered. Conrad, (lerman, able counsel. Constantine, Latin, resolute. Crispin, Latin, having curled locks. Cuthbert, Saxon, known famously. Daniel, Hebrew, God is judge. David, Hebrew, well-belov id. Denis, Greek, belonging to the god of wine. Dunstan, Saxon, most high. Edgar, Saxon, happy honour. Edmund, Saxon, happy peace. Edward, Saxon, hajjpy keeper. Eilwin, Saxon, happy conqueror. Egbert, Saxon, ever bright. Elijah, Hebrew, God, the Ijord. P^lisha, Hebrew, the salvation of God. Ephraim, Hebrew, fruitfuL Erasmus, Greek, lovely, Avorthy to be loved. Ernest, Greek, earnest, serious. Evan or Ivon, Britinh, the same as John. Everard, German, well reported. Eugene, Greek, nobly descended. Eustace, Greek, standing firm. Ezekiel, Hebrew, the strength of God, Felix, Latin, happy. Ferdinand, German, pure peace. Francis, German, free. Frederic, German, rich i)eace. Gabriel, Hebrew, the strength of God. Geoifery, German, joyful. George, Greek, a husbandman. Gerard, Saxon, all towardliness. Gideon, Hebreiv, a breaker. Gilbert, Saxon, bright as gold, Giles, Greek, a little goat. Godard, German, a godly disposition. Godfrey, Gei'inan, CJod's peace. Godwin, German, victorious in God. Griffith, British, having great faith. Guy, French, the mistletoe shrub. Hannibal, Punic, a gracious lord. Harold, Saxon, a champion. Hector, Greek, a stout defender. Henry, German, a rich lord. Herbert, German, a bright lord. Hercules, Greek, the glory of Hera or Juno. Hezekiah, Hebrew, cleaving to the liord. Horatio, Italian, worthy to be beheld. Howel, British, sound or whole. Hubert, German, a bright colour. Hugh, Dutch, high, lofty. Humphrey, German, domestic peace, Ingram, Gcrinan, of angelic purity, Isaac, Hebrew, laughter. Jacob, Hebrew, a supplanter. James or Jac<|ues, beguiling. Joab, Hebreiv, fatherhood. Job, Hebrew, sorrowing. Joel, Hebrew, ao(iuiescing. John, Hebrew, the grace of the Lord, Jonah, Hebrew, a dove. Jonathan, Hebrew, the gift of the Lord, Joscelin, German, just. Joseph, Hebrew, addition. Josias, Hebreiv, the tire of the Lord, Joshua, Hebrew, a Saviour. Lambert, Saxon, a fair lamb. Lancelot, Spanish, a little lance. Laurence, Latin, crowned with laurels. Lazarus, Hebrew, destitute of help. Leonard, German, like a lion. Leopold, Gciinan, defending the people. Lewellin, British, like a lion. Lewis, French, the defender of the people, Lionel, Latin, a little lion. Lucius, Latin, shining. Luke, Greek, a wood or grove. Mark, Latin, a hammer- Martin, Latin, martial. Mathew, Hebrew, a gift or present. Maurice, Latin, sprung of a Moor. Meredith, British, the roaring of the sea. Michael, Hebrew, who is like God ? Morgan, British, a mariner. Moses, Hebrew, drawn out. Nathaniel, Hebrew, the gift of God. Neal, French, somewhat black. Nicolas, Greek, victorious over the people. Noel, French, belonging to one's nativity. Norman, French, one born in Normandy. Obadiah, Hebrew, the servant of the Lord. Oliver, Latin, an olive. Orlando, Italian, counsel for the land. Osmund, Saxon, house peace. Oswald, Saxon, ruler of a house. Owen, British, well descended. Patrick, Latin, a nobleman. Paul, Latin, avaall, little. Percival, French, a place in France. Peregrine, Latin, outlandish. Peter, Greek, a rock or stone. Philip, Greek, a lover of horses. Phineas, Hebrew, of bold countenance. Ilalph, contracted from Radolph, or Randal, or Kanulph, Saxon, pure help. Raymund, Genuan, quiet peace. Reuben, Hebrew, the son of vision. Reynold, German, a lover of purity. Richard, Saxon, powerful. Robert, German, famous in counsel. Roger, German, strong counsel. Rowland, German, counsel for the land, Rufus, Latin, reddish. Solomon, Hebreiv, peaceable. Samson, Hebrew, a little son. Samuel, Hebreiv, heard by God. Saul, Hebrew, desired. Sebastian, Greek, to be reverenced. Simeon, Hebrew, bearing. Simon, Hebrew, obedient. Stephen, Greek, a crown or garland. Swithin, Saxon, very high. Theobald, Saxon, bold over the people. Theodore, Greek, the gift of God. Theodosius, Greek, given of God. Theophilus, Greek, a lover of God. Thomas, Hebrew, a twin. Timothy, Greek, a fearer of God. Toby or Tobias, Hebrew, the goodness ■.)f th» Lord. Valentine, Latin, powerful. Vincent, Latin, conquermg. Vivian, Latin, living. Walter, German, a wood master. Walwin, German, a conqueror. William, German, defending many. Zaccheus, Sj/riac, innocent. MISCELLANEOUS TABLES FOR REFERENCE. 371 Zachary, flebrew. romembering the Lord. Zi'beilec, Siiriar, having an inheritance. Zeilokiah, Hebrew, the justice of the Lord. le. y- )rd. AileHne, derman, a princes? Agatha, (rreek, good. Agnes, (ferman, chaste. AluUiea, Greek, the truth. Althea, (Ireek, hunting. Alice, Alicia, German, noble. Amy, Amelia, French, a, beloved. Anna, Anne, or Hannah, Hebreiv, gracious. Arabella, Lrdiii, a fair altar. Aureola, Latin, like goM. Barbara, Latin, foreign or str.tnge. Bfiitrice, Latin, making happy. Benedicta, Latin, blessed. Bernice, Greek, bringiiig victory. Tiertha, Greek, bright or famous. Blanche, French, fair. Bona, Latin, good. Bridget, Irish, shinini? bright. Cassandra, Greek, a reformer of men. Catharine, Greek, i)ure or clean. ( harity, Greek, love ' ounty. (-Charlotte, French, all noVde. Caroline, feminine of Carolus ; the Latin of CharJc», noble-si>irited. Chloe, Greek, a green herb. Cliristiana, Greek, belonging to Christ. Cecilia, Latin, from Cecil. Cicely, a corruplinn of Cecilia. Clara, Latin, clear or bright. Constance, Latin, constant, Deborah, Hebrew, a bee. Diana, Greek, Jupiter's d.augh*"T. Dorcas, Greek, a wdd roe. Dorothy, Greek, the gift of God. Eadith, Saxon, happine.s.s, Eleanor, Sa.con, all fruitful. Eliza, Elizabeth, Hebrew, the oath of God. Emily, corrupted from Amelia. Emma, German, a nurse. Esther, llesther, Hebrew, secret. Eve, Hebrew, causing life. Eunic;', Greek, fair victory. Eudoia, Greek, jirospering in the way. Frances, Girman, free. (Jertrude, German, all truth. Crace, Latin, favour. Hagar, Ifebreiv, a stranger. Helena, Greek, alluring. Isabella, Spaniiih, fair Eliza. Jane, softened from Joan; or, Jeanne, the feminine of John. Janet, Jeannette, little Jane. Jiiyei'. French, pleasant. .Tuditli, Hebrew, praising. Julia, Juliana, feminine of JitUtu. Letitia, Latin, joy or gladness. Eois, Greek, better. Eucietia. Latin, a chaste Roman lady. Eucy, Liiiin, feminine of Lucius. Lydia, (/reck, descended from iLud. Miibel, Latin, lovely. Magdalene, Maudlin, Syrific, magnificent. Margaret, German, a pearl. Martha, Hebreio, bitterness, alary, Hebrew, bitter. Maud, Matilda, Greek, a lady of honour. Mercy, Eu'ilish, compassion. Mildred, Saxon, speaking mild. Nest, British, the same as Aqnes. Nicola, Greek, the feminine of Nicholas. Olympia, Greek, heavenly. Orabilis, Latin, to be entreated. Piirnell, or Petronella, little Peter. Patience, Latin, bearing patiently. Paulina. Latin, feminine of Panlinus.. Penelope, (freek, a turkey. Persis, Greek, destroying. Philadelphia, Greek, brotherly love. Philippa, Greek, feminitte of Philip. Phdibe, Greek, the light of Iffe. Phyllis, (Hreek, a green bough. Priscilla, Latin, somewhat old. Prudence, Latin, discretion. Psyche, Greek, the sold. Rachel, Hebrew, a lamb. Rebecca, Hebrew, fat or plump. Rhode, Greek, a rose. Rosamund, Saxon, rose of peace. Ro a, Latin, a rose, Rosecleer, English, a fair rose. Rosabella, Italian, a fair rose. Ruth, Hebrew, trembling. Sabina, Latin, sprung from the Sabine. Salome, Hebrew, perfect. Sapphira, Greek, like a sapphire stone. Sarah, Hebrew, a princess. Sibylla, Greek, the counsel of God. Sophia, Greek, wisdom. Sophronia, Greek, of a sound nnnd. Susan, Susanna, Hebrew, a lily. Tabitha, Syriac, a roe. Temperance, Latin, moderation. Theodosia, Greek, given by God. Tryphosa, Greek, delicious. Tryphcna, Greek, delicate. Vida, Erse, feminine of Darid, Ursula, Latin, a female bear. Wiilburg, Saxon, gracious.^ Winifred, Saxon, winning peace. Zenobia, Greek, the life of Jupiter. Facts about the Bible. The Bible c.mtaina G6 books, 1,180 chapters, 31,17o verses, 7715,092 words, and 3,580,48!) letters. The word " and" occurs 40, '277 times ; the word " Lord " 1,855 times; "Revkrknd" but once ; " (jIrl " but once, in 3rJ chapter and 3rd veise of Joel. The words " Evkrlast- iNo Punishment" but once, and " Ever- lasting FiRK " but twice. The middle verse is the 8th verse of the 118th Psalm. The '2l8t verso of tlie 7th chapter of Ezra contains all the letters of the alphabet ex- cept the letter J. The finest chapter to read is the 20th chapter of the Acts cf the Apostles. The lUth chapter of Second Kings and the 37th chapter of Isaiah are alike. The longest verse is the 9th verse of the 8th chapter of Esther. The shortpst ^vr 372 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr/EDIA. is the 35th verse of the llth chapter of St. John, viz.: "Jeans wept.'' The 8th, loth, 2l8t, and Slst verses of the ]07th Psalm are alike. Eacli verse of the 13Gth Psalm ends alike. There are no words of more length than six syllables. Height of Noted Monuments and Buildings. Monument or Building Where Locatal. Height. Pyramid of Cheops Ei,'ypt 54.3 feet. Antwerp t'atlieih-al. . . .Belgium 47o " StriiJisburK Cathedral. .Germany 474 " St Martin's Church, 1 ^ . ^gg „ IjandMhut J Pyramid of Cephrene.s.. Egypt 456 " St. Peter's Cathedral. .Home 448 " St. Paul's Cathedral. . . London 404 " Salisbury Cathedral. ..England 400 " Cathedral of Florence.. Italy 384 " Cathedral of Cremona.. Italy 37'2 " Church at Fribourg Germany 370 " C'athedral of Seville. . Spain StiO " Cathedral of Milan ludy 355 '< Cathedral of Utrecht . . Holland 3oG " Pyramid of Sakkarah. . Egypt 356 " Cathedral of MuLich. . Bavaria 348 " Cathedral of StMark, ) Tf„i„ H. M. A chine of pork 2 A neck of mutton 1 30 A haunch of venison about 3 30 Venice .328 .314 Apinelli Tower, Bu- ) jf -jy logna ) ^ Capitol at Washington. United States, 300 '^' Ymk ^^''!"''^.' ^':^. \ ^"ite'l 'States, .84 Column at Delia India 2G2 ''Xlkin,..':'::^:}^^"- 248 ''t^':\^:L''.':'''^^^^^^^ 232 Bunker Hill Monu- 1 xt„u„ na*o<.„„ ooa ment, (^harlestown P"'*^'^^***^^' 220 Leaning Tower, Pi.-ia. .Italy 202 "^rStirillrriVit-i^ed States, 183 VendomeColumn, Paris France ISi Trajan's Column Kome •. . 151 Time Eequired to Eoast Various Articles of Food. H. M. A small capon, fowl, or chicken requires.. 20 A large fowl 4,5 A capon, full size 35 A goose 1 Wild ducks and grouse 15 Pheasants and turkey poults 20 A moderate sized turkey, stuffed I 15 Partridges 25 t^lail 10 A hare or rabbit about 1 Beef, ten pounds 2 ."^O Leg of pork, J hour for each pound, and ) „,^ above that allowance j Time Eequired to Boil Various Articles of Food. H. M. A ham, 20 lbs. weight, rerpiires 6 30 A tongue (if dry) after -soaking 4 A tongue out of pickle 2J^ to 3 A neck of mutton 1 30 A chicken 20 A large fowl 45 A pigeon l.*) A capon 35 Capacity of Noted Churches & Halls. Name of Building. St. Peter's Cathedral. Cathedral of Milan. . . St. Paul's tUmrch.... St. Paul's Cathedral. . Church of St. Petronio. Cathedral of Florence.. Cathedral of Antwerp.. Mosque of St- Sophia. . St. John's Lateran. . . . Cathedral of Notre ) Dame ) Cathedral of Pisa Church of St. Stephen. Church of St. Dominic. Church of St. Peter.... Cathedral of Vienna. . . Cathedral of St. Mark . Gilmore's Garden Stadt Theatre Academy of Music Theatre Carlo Felice . . Boston 'J'heatre Co vent Garden Academy of Music Mu.sic Hi.ll Alexander Theatre Opera House San Carlos Theatre Imperial Theatre Grand Opera La Scala St. Charles Theatre . . . Opera House Grand Opera House. . Booth's Theatre McVicar's Theatre Ford's t)pera House. . , Opera House Location. Contain Rome 54,000 Milan 37,000 Kome 32,000 London 25,000 Bologna '^4,000 Florence 24,000 Antwerp 24,000 Constantinople . .23,000 Kome 2'-',000 Paris 21,000 Pisa l.'i.OOO Vienna V.Um Bologna I'.'.OOO Bologna 11,400 Vienna 11,000 Venice 7,.")00 New York 8,4;W New York 3,000 Philadeli)hia .... 2,865 Genoa 2,.'>»i0 Boston 2,*5 Velocity of Sound and Light. Sound moves about thirteen miles in » minute. So that if we hear a clap of thunder half a minute after the Hash, wd MISCELLANEOUS TABLES FOR REFERENCE. 373 may calculate that the charge of electric- ity is six and a half miles otf. In one second of time — in one beat of the pendulum of a clock — light travels over 192,000 miles. Were a Ciinnon ball shot toward the sun, and it were to main- tain full speed, it would be twenty years in reaching it — and yet light travels through this space in seven or eight min- utes. Oceans, Seas, Bays and Lakes. Oceans. Scj. Miles. Pacitic, about 80,000,000 Atlantic, " 40,000,000 Indian, " 20,000,000 Southern, " .10,000,000 Arctic, " .6,000,000 Nom.— The BOM, ba.vn, eutfs, etc., ciiinectcd with each ocean, are includeil in the fore^ointr usthnate. It may he proper to remark, however, that the exact eupcrfloial extent of the several oceann i» not known with certainty, nor the cxivct proiwrlion of land and water. SeM. Length in Miles. Mediterranean, about 2,000 Caribbean " China " lied " Japan " Black " Caspian " Baltic " Okhotsk " White " Aral " Bays. Ijengtb in Miles Hudson's, about 1,200 Baffin's, •' 600 Chesapeake," 250 Lakes Length. Widt'a. Milea. Miles. .1,800 .1,700 .1,400 .1,000 . 932 . 040 . 600 . 600 . 460 . 2o0 Superior .*. 380. Baikal 360.. Michigan 330. , Creat Slave 300. Huron 250, Winnipeg 240. Erie 270. Athabasca 200., Ontario 180., Maracaybo 150. Great Bear 150. Ladoga 125. Champlain 123. Nicarngua 120 lake of the Woods 70 26 Geneva 60. Constance 45. Cayuga 36. George 36. .120 . 35 . 60 . 45 . 90 . 40 . 50 . 20 . 40 . 60 . 40 . 75 . 12 40 10 10 4 3 Value of Foreign Money. Pound Sterling, of England §4.81 Sovereign, " 4.84 Guinea, " 5.05 Cr-wn. " 1.21 Shilling, " 22 Louis d'Or, of France 4.52 Napoleon, ' 3.84 Five Francs, " 93 Franc, " 18^ Frederic d'Or, of Prussia 3.95 Thaler, of Prussia, Saxony, etc 68 Florin, of Prussia, Netherlands, etc. .40 Ducat of Austria 2.28 Rix Dollar, " 97 Guilder, " 48^ Doubloon, of Spain (1800) 15.54 Pistareen, " 19^ ileal, " 06 Five Rubles, of Russia 3.95 Ruble, " 75 Johannes, of Bra2il 17.04 Moidore, " 6.56 Franc, of Belgium 18^ Ducat, of Bavaria 2.27 Ryder, of Holland 6.04 Marc Banco, of Hamburg 35 Franc, of Switzerland 18^ Rix Dollar, of Saxony 69 Ducat, of Naples 80 Scudoof Rome 1.00^ Lira, of Lombardy 16 Crown, of Tuscany 1.05 Livre, of Genoa. 18J^ Pezzo, of Leghorn 91 Lira, of Sardinia 18 J Milrea, of Portugal 1.12 Two Rigsdaler, of Denmark 1.11 Doubloon, of Mexico 15.53 Tale, of China 1.48 Rupee, of India 44^ Ecu, of Egypt 1.10 Itzebu, of Japan 37 How to Make a Barometer or Weather-QIasB. Take a long narrow bottle, such as an old fashioned Eau-de-Cologue bottle, and put into it two and a half drachms of cam- phor and eleven drachms of spirits of wine ; when the camphor is dissolved, which it will readily do by slight agitation, add the following mixture ;— Take water, nine drachms ; nitrate of potash (saltpe- tre), thirty-eight grains ; muriate of am- monia (sal ammoniac) thirty-eight grains. Dissolve these salts in the water prior to mixing with the camphorated spirit ; then 374 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA shake the whole well together. Cork the bottle well, and wax the top, but after- wards make a very small aperture in the cork with a red-hot needle. The bottle may then be hung up, or placed in any stationary position. By observing the different appearances which the materials assume, as the weather changes, it be- comes an excellent prognosticator of a coming storm or of a sunny SKy. In fair weather the mixture will remain clear. On the approach of a storm it will become cloudy, and feathery particles floating about in it. Origin of Plants. Madder came from the East. Celery originated in Germany. The chestnut came from Italy. The onion originated in Egypt. Tobacco is a native of Virginia. The nettle is a native of Europe. The citron is a native of Greece. The pine ie a native of America. Oats originated in North Africa. The poppy originated in the East. Rye came, originally, from Siberia. Parsley was first known in Sardinia. The pear and apple are from Europe. Spinach was first cultivated in Arabia. The sunflower was brought from Peru. The mulberry tree originated in Persia. The gourd is probably an Eastern plant. The walnut and peach ca^ae from Persia. The horse-chestnut is a native of Thibet. The cucumber came from the East In- dies. The quince came from the island of Crete. The radish is a native of China and Japan. Peas are supposed to be of Egyptian origin. The garden cress is from Egypt and the East. Horse-radish came from the South of Europe. The Zealand flax shows its origin by its name. la. lia. ope. rabia. Peru. Persia. L plant. Persia. Thibet, last In- land of ina and Igyptian and the jouth of ;in by its THE FAEM. i| cai bu( m IS t bee sho spe( cha and she H dia. the Bx is no the unde rural thek re vol I land share introbiiction. DID hesitate at first in responding to the invitation of the publishers of this work, when asked to make up the agri- cultural part thereof, because I had never done any com- piling, and particularly did not care for that kind of work, but I never doubted the importance of the materials, and feelinj; how much we want a succinct and full manual of agriculture in these days, and willing t<9 help in any sound education, have much pleasure in introducing this to the Canadian farmer, I can do so quite freely, for the simple reason that as the greater part of these pages is not mine, my opinion '•annot be charged with egotism, nor with mercenary motives, having no business interest in its sale. Where can I get a firet-class work on farming up to date in everything ? is the question asked of me by many every year, and my reply has always been, I do not know. I am aware that it is in view to meet this want shortly, by the issue of a series of Text Books, each to be confined to a special subject, under titles somewhat similar to those used by me in these chapters. Until this is done, I do not think that our young men, farmers, and the public will be satisfied. How well pleased Ontario would be were she to lead the world in this matter ! It is not claimed that this manual is either an exhaust or an Encyclope- dia. The space allowed precluded this, and made, as most writers know, the boiling down much more difficult than actual original material. But it is a sound manual on agriculture, scientific and practical. There is no spurious matter in it, and it is right up to date. The 1883 ranche, the silo, and the relation of trees to farming, for example, are, brought under review. There is also reference to some other modern phases of rural economy. The remarkable changes by present day transportation, the keen chemical enquiry and practical experiments on foot ; implement revolutions and educational work ; the flow of wealth and learning into land productions, and particularly the live stock interest receives a good share of the allotted space. 378 INTRODUCTION. The form and matter will be found very handy for general reference and will not weary even the lawyer or member of parliament. Then spe- cially, it is North American — the science and practice being weeded to ap- ply to Canada and the Northern States. The following works have been freely used in the compilation : " The Crops of the Farm ; " " The Live Stock of the Farm ; " " The Complete Grazier ; " " American Farm Book ; " " Wrightson's Hand Book of Agricul- ture ; " Balfour's Botany ; " " Henderson's Grasses of Great Britain and America ; " " The Soil of the Farm " ; and Morton on Landed Property. W. BROWN. > \i: m * i' (■ }. AGRICULTURE : ITS SCIEl^CE AND PRACTICE, WITH SPECIAL REFEEENCE TO CANADA. "Ihc (^gdcultuvc of the |3iUit lid be know how the nations of interesting tilled, and sowed, and reaped ; what crops they cultivated, and by what method they converted them into food and rai- ment. Records are meagre. Every reader of the Bible is familiar with its frequent references to Egypt as a land so rich in grain, that it not only produced abundance for its own dense population, but yielded supplies for exportation to neighbouring countries. Profane history corroborates these statements. Diodorus Siculus beai-s explicit testimony to the skill of the farmers of an- cient Egypt. He informs us that they were acquainted with the benefits of a rotation of crops, and were skilful in adapting these to the soil and to the seasons. The ordinary annual supply of grain furnished to Rome has been estimated at 20,000^000 of bushels. From the same author, we also learn, that they fed their cattle with hay during the annual inundation, and at oth r times tethered them in the meadows on green clover. Their flocks were shorn twice annually (a practice common in several Asiatic countries), and their ewes yeaned twice a year. For religious as well as economical reasons, they were great rearers of poultry, and practised arti- ficial hatching, as at the present day. The abundance or scarcity of the harvests in Egypt depended chiefly upon the height of the annual inun- dation. If too low, much of the land could not be sown, and scarcity or 380 THE HOME, FARM A\D BUSINESS UYCLOP.KDIA. I h '!! W famine ensued. On the other hand, great calamities befell the country when the river rose much above the average level. Cattle were drowned, villages destroyed, and the crops necessarily nmch diminished ; as in such cases, many of the fields were still under water at the |)roper .seed-time. An Egyptian villa comprised all the conveniences of a European one of the present day. Besides a mansion with numerous apartments, there were gardens, orchards, fish-ponds, and preserves for game. Attached to it was a farm-yard, with sheds for cattle and stables for carriage horses, A .steward directed the tillage operations, superintended the labourers, and kepl< account of the produce and expenditure. The grain was stored in vaulted chambers furnished with an opening at the top, reached by steps, into which it was emptied from sacks, and with an aperture below for re- moving it when required. Hand-querns, similar to our own, were used for grinding grain ; but they had also a larger kind worked by oxen. In one painting in which the sowing of the grain is represented, a plough drawn by a pair of oxen goes first ; next comes the sower scattering the seed from a basket ; he is followed by another plough ; whilst a roller, drawn by two horses yoked abreast, completes the operation. The steward stands by superintending the whole. The Nomades of the patriarchal ages, like the Tartar, and perhaps some of the Moorish tribes of our own, whilst mainly dependent upon their flocks and herds, practised also agriculture proper. The vast tracts over which they roamed were in ordinary circumstances common to all shep- herds alike. During summer they frequented the mountainous districts, and retired to the valleys to winter. Vast flocks of sheep and of goats constituted the chief wealth of the Nomades, although they also possessed animals of the ox kind. When these last were possessed in abundance, it .seems to be an indication that tillage was practised. We learn that Job, whose time is by the best authorities fixed as about contemporaneous with that of Abraham, besides immense possessions in docks and herds, had 500 yoke of oxen, which he employed in ploughing, and a " very greac hus- bandry," Isaac, too, conjoined tillage with pastoral husbandry, and that with success, for we read that he sowed in the land Gerar, and reaped an hundred fold — a return which, it would appear, in some favoured regions, occasionally rewarded the labour of the husbandman. In the Parable of the Sower, our Lord (grafting his instructions upon the habits, scenery, and productions of Palestine) mentions an increase of thirty, sixty, and an hundred fold. Such increase, although far above the average rate, was sometimes even greatly exceeded, if we take the authority of Herodotus, Strabo and Pliny. THE AGRICULTURE OF THE PAST. 381 ountrjr owned, in such time. 1 one of s, there che'l to ^ horses, revs, and tored in by steps, w for re- used tor . In one rh drawn seed from m by two itands by haps some pon their acts over all shep- districts, of goats possessed ndance, it that Job, lieous with s, had 500 reat hus- and that reaped an d regioQs, arable of ,s, scenery, ty, and an rate, was Herodotus , Along with the Babylonians, Egyptians and Romans, the Israelites are classed as one of the great agricultural nations of anticiuity. Their farms were small, and cultivated with great care. They were favoured with a soil extremely fertile, which their skill and diligence kept in good condi- tion. The stones were carefully cleared from the fields, which were also watered from canals and conduits, communicating with the brooks and streams with which the couiitry " was well watered everywhere," and en- riched by the application of manures. The sevejith year's fallow prevented the exhaustion of the soil, which was further enriched by the burning of the weeds and spontaneous growth of the Sabbatical year. The crops chiefly cultivated were wheat, millet, barley, beans, and lentiles ; to which it is supposed, on grounds not improbable, may be added rice and cotton. The ox and the ass were used for labour. The word " oxen," which occurs in our version of the Scriptures, as well as the Septuagint and Vulgate, denotes tlie .species rather than the sex. As the Hebrews did not mutilate any of their animals, bulls were in common use. The quantity of land jiloughcd by a yoke of oxen in one day, was called a yoke or acre. The unrivalled literature of Greece afibrds us little information rojjard- ing the practical details of her husbandry. With the exception of certain districts, such as Bfuotia, the country was naturally unfavourable to agri- culture. When we find, however, that valleys were freed from lakes and morasses by drainage, that rocky surfaces were sometimes covered with transported soil, and that they possessed excellent breeds of the domesti- cated animals, which were reared in vast numbers, we infer that airricul- ture was better understood, and more carefully practised, than the allusion.s to it in their literature would seem to warrant. Amongst the ancient Romans, agriculture was highly esteemed, and pursued with earnest love and devoted attention. The words which Cicero puts into the mouth of Cato give a fine picture of the ancient Roman en- thusiiism in agriculture. " I come now to the pleasures of husbandry, in which I vastly delight. They are not interrupted by old age, and they seem to me to be pursuits in which a wise man's life should be sj)ent. The earth does not rebel against authority; it never gives back but with usury what it receives. The gains of husbandry are not what exclusively com- mend it. I am charmed with the nature and productive virtues of the soil. Can those old men be called unhappy who delight in the cultivation of the soil ? In my opinion, there can be no happier life, not only because the tillage of the earth is salutary to all, but from the pleasure it yields. The whole establishment of a good and assiduous husbandman is stored with wealth j it abounds in pigs, in kids, in lambs, in poultry, in milk, in 382 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. cheese, in honey. Nothing can bo more profitable, nothing more beautiful, than a wdl-cultivatcd farm." In a i Rome, each citizen received, at first, an allotment of about two En^ .sh acres. After the expulsion of the kings this allotment was increased to about six acres. These small inheritances must, of course, have been cultivated by hand labour. On the increa.se of the Roman ter- ritory, the allotment was increased to fifty, and afterwards even to five hundred acres. Many glimpses into their methods of cultivation are found in those works of Roman authors whicli have survived the ravages of time. Cato speaks of irrigation, frequent tillage, and ma- nuring, as means of fertilizing the soil. Mr. Hoskyn, from whose valuable contribution to the History of Agriculture we have drawn freely in this historic summary, quotes the following interesting pas- sage from Pliny, commenting on Virgil: — "Our poet is of opinion that aV mte fallows should be made, and that the land should rest entirel vy .second year. And this is, indeed, both true and profit- able, prov.aed a man have land enough to give the soil this repo.se. But how, if his extent be not suHicient ? Let him, in that case help him- self thus. Let him sow next year's wheat-crop on the field where he has just gathered his ' ^ ns, vetches, or lupines, or such other crop as enriches the ground. For, indeed, it is worth notice that some crops are sown for no other purpose but as food for others, a poor practice, in my estima- tion." The same Cato being asked what was the most assured profit riung out of land, made this answer : " To feed stock well." Beincj aske 1 ajTfain, " what was the best," he answered, " I'o feed with moderation." By which answer he would seem to conclude that the most certain and sure revenue was a low coaf of 'production. It is curious, says Mr. Hoskyn, to read such passages as these, and to find the very same subjects stil! handled, week after week, in fresh and eager controver.sy in the agricultuial writings and periodicals of the pre- sent day — eighteen centuries after these opinions were written. Under the Goths, Vandals, and other barbarian conquerors, arigculture in Europe, during the middle ages, seems to have sunk into the lowest condition of neglect and contempt. We owe its revival, like that of other arts and sciences, to the Saracens ol Spain, who devoted themselves to the cultivation of that conquered territory, with hereditary love for the occu- pation, and with the skilful application of the experience which they had gathered in other lands in which they had established their power. By them, and their successors, the Moors, agriculture was carried in Spain to THE AGRICULTURE OF THE PAST. 383 lautiful, jf altout ent was course, man tev- eveJi to Itivatioii ived tho ami uia- n whose 'e drawn ting pi\s- [ opinion ould rest id profit- oso. But lelp liim- are he has s enriches sown for ly estinia- n /ing out e \ again, By which re revenue se, and to :rosh and the pre- li(rculture Ihe lowest It of other Ives to the Ithe occu- ] they had Ivver. By 1 Spain to a height which perhaps has not yet been surpassed in P]urope. It is said, that so early as tho tenth century, tho revenue of Saracenic Spain alone amounted to £0,000,000 sterling — probably as much as that of all the rest of Europe at that time. The ruins of their noble works for the irri- gation of the soil, still attest their skill and industry, and put to shame the ignorance and indolence of their successors. Tho same remark applies to the Spanish dominions in South America. In the ancient empire of Peru, agriculture seems to have reached a high degree of perfection. Tho ruins of basins and canals, frequently carried through tunnels, prove their industry and skill in irrigation. One of their aqueducts is said by Mr. Prescott to have been traced by its ruins for nearly 500 miles. They cultivated the sides of mountains, by means of terraces which retained forced pcil, and were skilled in the application of manure. That on wliich they chielly depended was guano, and their Incas protected the penguins, by which it was deposited, by strict laws, which made it highly penal to kill one of these birds, or to set foot on the islands at breeding time. Tho Spaniards thus obtained possession of two good patiimonies, and have wasted them both. The agriculture of nearly the whole of the continent of Europe has made very great progress since. In Flanders, the Netherlands, Switzer- land, and Germany, there are certain limited districts which, in general management, rival, and in particular points excel, our own. In nothing is this more apparent than in their scrupulous economy of manure, both as regards its preparation and application. In Flanders, not only the con- tents of privies, but soap-suds, scullery-water, and slops of every kind containing fertilizing matters, are carefully preserved in suitable recepta- cles, by the town's folk and villages, from whom they are purchased by regular manure dealers, who come steadily round with their tub-carts to collect this sewage, store it in tanks, and in due time retail it to the farm- ers. The latter invariably have tanks of their own, in which the urine of their cattle and similar matters are collected. This liquid manure is frequently enriched by the addition of night-soil and rape-dust, and is al- ways stored for several months before being applied to the land. In South-West Germany, Switzerland and Holland, the same attention is paid to the preparation of liquid manure, by mingling the dung and urine of the cattle with water, fermenting it in tanks, and then in distributing it over green crops by means of barrel-carts. The follov/ing might stand for a description of Myre Mill, or Tiptree, but for the want of the steam- engine, force-pump, and underground pipes: "The cows often lie on smooth bricks, which are washed clean twice a day, for which purpose a 384 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ^^^H SdaA"! 1' ;1 pump is an essential appendage to a cow-house. There is generally a deep gutter along the wall behind the cows, into which the water and urine drain, the ground sloping gently towards it. The tank is either immedi- ately under the stable, well vaulted over, or it is so near that all the li- quid readily runs into it through a covered drain. The heads of the cows are towards the middle of th(> stable, and their tails over the gutter along the wall. The width of the building admits of two rows of cows facinff each other, with a space between them sufficiently wide to admit a small cart to bring the food to them. This is universally the form of a cow- house in Holland. The liquid in the tant is allowed to go through '^o first stages of fermentation, during which the caustic portion of the urine is rendered mild, and the liquid is better fitted to be taken up by the fibres of- the roots. In order that there may be a regular succession of liquid in a proper state for use, there are partitions iu the tanks, and by raeans 0;i: small flood-gates in the drain which leads to it, the fresh accum- ulation may be directed to any one of the pits thus formed, while the ripe liquor may be pumped up into tubs or barrels set on wheels, to be convey- ed to the land. There are means of accelerating or retarding the fermen- tation, according to the time when the liquor is wanted. Stirring and admitting the air assist the process, while the addition of earth, peat, or ashes, and keeping out the air retard it. The efficacy of the liquid is much increased by adding rape-cake, and other vegetable substances. This is usually done a short time before it is put on the land, as it would otherwise ferment too much." But it is in the irrigated districts of Piedmont and Lombardy that a style of farming is to be found admirable in itself, and especially fitted to interest and instruct the American farmer. For not only do we find there the oldest, the most extensive, but the most thoroughly elaborate system of irrigation to be met with in Europe. Of the Agriculture of the Britons before the Roman invasion we have no certain record. Originally savages — subsisting upon chance products of the field or the forest, the roots and the nuts, and the fiesh of ani- mals — what little they knew of agriculture during a period of a century or so prior to the Roman invasion was probably imparted to them by those who, emigrating, as tradition hath it, from Gaul, established colonies on the British sea-coast, and brought with them some knowledge of farm produce. Diodorus Siculus mentions that the ancient inhabitants of Britain used subterranean apartments in which they kept their grain, these being con- ly a deep ,nd urine immedi- ill the li- : the cows bter along ws facing it a small of a cow- irough *^o : the urine up by the ccession of ks, and by •esh accum- lile the ripo be convey- the fernien- stirring and th, peat, or ,he liquid is substances. as it would ai-dy that a lly fitted to e find there rate system on we have ice producU esh of am- ,f a century to them by bed colonies a,/e of farm ritain used being con- ■i-i fa to et ni wi la in dei cro fon ir th oft the moo wres vate THE AGRICULTURE OF THE PAST. 38.) r.tructed of stones rudely placed together. Strabo even writes of their Hocks and herds ; and Csesar notes that tlie cattle were in abundance. That most of the pastures of England have, in former times, been under tillage, will be seen by eveiy one practised in agriculture who examines the ridges, fun-ows, banks, roadways, lauLdmarks, cuttings, &c., still to be found upon them. In many instances, the carefully rounded lands, the highly raised headlands, the large amount of soil worked from higher to lower ground, and the marks of cultivation terminating at points where occasional floods limited the application of the ground to the growth of grain, are unmistakable evidences of the plough having for ages been at work, and the former application of the land to growing grain. Be all this as it may, whatever improvement agriculture had made from the time of the Roman invasion till the conquest of the country by the Anglo-Saxons, that improvement was not sustained dui'ing the period when the conquerors held the sway. Fond of the chase, the Anglo-Saxons despised the arts of tillage, and deemed them at best the fitting employ- ment of slaves and women. The Britons gradually sunk, therefore, into a depressed condition ; and with it came the loss of the knowledge of farm- ing, as taught them by, or obtained chiefly from, an intercourse with the Romans. Some idea of their wretched condition may be derived from the fact that associations were formed to enable a yoke of oxen and a plough to be kept for the united benefit of the membei's. At this period it was enacted that " no man should undertake to guide a plough who could not make one ; and that the driver should make the ropes of tw .:ited willows with which it was drawn. Nor was the state of matters improved, and the condition of the hus- bandman much ameliorated, by the change of masters which took place in the Norman Invasion and Conquest ; on the contrary, they were ren- dered much worse. Large tracts of land which bore comparatively good crops of grain, were on various pretences laid waste, and converted into forests and hunting grounds. Yet it must not be supposed that the Normans brought with them no- thing but the art of oppression, and the love of war and the chase. Many of them were well acquainted with farming, and had brought with them the knowledge of its practice. Large tracts of tidal lands were reclaimed under their superintendence; moors and marshy lands were taken in by them ; and while the soil, thus wrested from barrenness, was made to yield its produce, that of the culti- vated lands of old was greatly increased by their painstaking care. S86 THE 'OME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Of the system of culture in use, it is difficult to form a true conception. Farm-yard dung was the main manure used, although marl seemed to have been in repute. Summer fallowing for wheat was also practised ; and the operations of harrowing, rea[)ing, and threshing, closely resembled our own. From the end of the fifteenth to the middle of the seventeenth century, peace fortunately prevailed in England ; and although much progress was not made in agriculture, still it displayed, in common with other arts, the advantage of the peace. The art of printing gave to agriculture, as it also gave to the other arts and sciences, a wonderful impetus. Works began to be published containing records of farm practice, and rules for its guid- ance, as well as epitomes of the methods pursued by the ancient nations. During the reign of Elizabeth, agriculture greatly flourished; large tracts of forest and common land were taken under the plough, and those which had been under cultivation were improved. It was towards the middle, or perhaps more correctly towards the end, of the eighteenth century, that the value of the alternate mode of hus- bandr}'^ began to be appreciated, in which alternate crops of cereals and grain crops were taken from the land, the latter enabling larger supplies of cattle to be maintained, and, by consequence, larger supplies of manure to make up for the exhaustion of the land by the cereal or grain crops. Drainage also began to be practised on a larger scale, and on more scientific principles. Several new crops were added to the list of those formerly at the service of the farmer, as, for instance, the potato (about 1750) — pre- viously cultivated in gardens — the Swede turnip (about 1790), the m.in- gold-wurzel, and the spring variety of wheat (about 1795). In 17G0 Bakewell began his celebrated experiments on the improvement of stock, which resulted in completely changing their character — more especially that of sheep — and rendering them of far greater value for breeding and feeding purposes. In 1777 the " Bath and West of England Society " was instituted, having for its special purpose the improvement of agriculture. In 1784 the institution of the Highland Society followed ; and in 17913 the Board of Agriculture was formed by the legislature, and placed under the control of the celebrated Sir John Sinclair. Of the condition of Scottish agriculture in very early times, history has left little or no record. But as in England, so in Scofland, agriculture and horticulture owed much to the exertions of the monks and the religious communities. Of the progress agriculture, in Scotland, made during the seventeenth century, we have no correct means of knowing. Ray, who visited its eastern coast in IGGO, mentions that he saw little or no fallow THE AGRICULTURE OF THE PAST. 387 ;eption. med to ictisecl ; sembled century, ;res3 was arts, the as it also ks began its guid- t nations, •ge tracts ground ; some layland he noticed, which was manured with sea-weed barley and oats he saw, but little wheat and rye ; and of the condition of the peasantry, and of their industrious habits, he seemed to have formed a low opinion. Although the condition of agriculture in Scotland, in early times, was very depressed, judging from some enactments of the parliament of Alex- ander II., still some idea of correct cultivation of the soil must have been prevalent, from the enactment of a severe law against those who allowed a iiernicious vjeecl io grow in their fields. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, oats and barley were the principal crops grown, although wheat .seems to have been cultivated as early as the thirteenth century. One authority states that at this period " the peasants neither enclosed nor planted, nor endeavoured to ameliorate the sterility of the soil." At the period of the Revolution, agriculture was in very low condition in Scotland, so much so that many farms were unoccupied, and landowners were as eager to get tenants as the tenants now are to get landowners to let them their farms. The union of Scotland with England gave rise to a gradual and steady improvement. In 1723 the Society for Improvement in the Knowledge of Agriculture in Scotland was established ; and in East Lothian great exertions were made by patriotic gentlemen there re- sident to improve the state of cultivation. " The practice of drainage, en- closing, summer fallowing, sowing flax, hemp, rape, turnip, and grass seeds ; planting cabbages after, and potatoes with, the plough, in fields of great extent, is introduced." Summer fallowing, mentioned in the above extract, was not introduced in Scotland till about this period, although in use in England from the time of the Saxons and Normans. From this period agriculture rapidly improved, till the farming of Scotland took that remarkably high position for which it is now so famous. Little can be said of the early history of the agriculture of Ireland ; for little information, save of a purely conjectural character, is at hand. From the peculiarity of the climate, which is humid, and the nature of the soil, a rich loam upon limestone, Ireland has chiefiy been a pastoral and grazing country, tillage or husbandry has, therefore, been little attended to up to a comparatively recent period. And what husbandry has been practised was of the highest order, on account chiefly of the small-farm system, which may be said to have been the rule for many years, if it is not even still the rule. "Wilt Agriculture of "iJla-bai) in ^lorth UR position in the world's main industry is assuming seve- ral marked features. In the first place we are no longer a dismembered country, and imbound by modern highways ; the great civilizer of all nations, the railway, has brought the Atlantic and Pacific within six days of each other, so that produce at the foot of the Rocky Mountains can fairly compete with that at Victoria, B. Columbia, at Chicago, Montreal, and at Halifax. Of all revolutions, this is the most wonderful and far-reaching in commercial significance. Next in importance is the application of machinery. What will follow the self -reaper and binder, imagination can hardly picture, but this of it- self is destined to place our sons at least on such independent ground as even the manufacturers fail to estimate. It is not to be a Dalrymple farm only that shall command their service, but even the ordinary farmer of Ontario will walk out in the morning and return in the evening of one day, after having cut and bound his fifteen or twenty acres with one man and two horses. What a great cause there is in this for extensive possession of landed property on the part of individuals, and possibly with the tendency to a lazier, a less systematic, and a less remunerative system of cropping. Then, again, we are gradually drifting into a recognition of the claims of agriculture as a part of national education. Its absence until recently in nearly all systems of public education, anywhere, has been a curious in- consistency, difficult to explain by men outside, and yet simple when put to the men most interested. In conjunction with improved machinery, and special lines of produce, the education of the farm will hold the lead- ing men of advanced nations, as it did two thousand years ago. Thus, then, another phase of to-day farming is the keen scientific en- quiry into things either not yet known, or so simple in themselves as to bear doubt, and consequently requiring investigation. Fertilizers and animal foods are examples of these ; their simplicity is in the hands of the practical farmer, their complicated workings with the scientist, who is THE AGllICULTUllE OF TO-DAY. 3N!) 3i1h ing seve- longer u ighways ; ? brought other, so can fairly , Chicago, his is the gnificance. n\\ follow this of it- ,nd as even farm only ,f Ontario day, after 1)) and two 11 of landed ency to a .ping. |e claims ot ■ecently in lurious in- when put nachinery, the lead- lentific en- i)lves as to [lizers and _: hands of list, who is' not siitisfied with bare facts, and his indications must follow the other's every day lessons, wliich are so varledby climate, soil, plants and manage- ment, that the association of science and practice must continue one of unending interest and practical value. We do not agree with those who denounce the multiplication of agri- cultural exhibitions. Were they made less sectional than they are now, the under-average farmer would be the longer in rising, and tlie country correspondingly kept back. Kxhil.ition lessons are not necessarily imme- diate in their etlect, nor are they always remunerative for the time being. Educational work otherwise for the farm is jirecisely of the same character with exhibitions, and nobody will deny that the school, the college, the press, and books, are too plentiful. P]xhibitions arc a peculiar feature of Canay changes of temperature, and especially by frost. Water expands as it freezes, and when water lodges in the interstices or pores of a porous rock, it suddenly expands as it congeals, and the consequence is a disruption of particles that speedily .shows itself in the crumbling character of the rocky •surface. Vegetation. — As these forces proceed, a superficial layer of variable thickness is produced, and at an eai'ly stage vegetation exerts its sway. Lichens are seen growing upon walls and the faces of quarries, and mosses and grasses follow at a later stage, and occupy the most unpromising situ- ations. The efl'ect is to inci'ea.se moisture and to accumulate vegetable matter or humus, which again gives rise to carbonic dioxide, and rendere the rain still more potent in its dissolving and disintegrating action. The loots of plants also, no doubt, themselves exert a di.ssolving effect. Thus gradually a soil is formed, and it will be noticed tiiat, in this case, it is formed in sltti, or upon the rock from which it was derived. The forces still to notice differ from those already enumerated in their transporting effects, which, when added to their disintegrating action, render them not only accountable for the oi'igin,"but the present position of many soils. 392 THE HOME, FAUM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPifiDIA. ^ I X '^ f Acriox OF RiJNNi.va Water.— Particles of sand or clay once detnclied from the parent rock ar3 (juickly carried away l)y the action of runnin;,' Wilier, and as tliese runnels gain strength and converge into mountain streams and torrents, a new manifestation of the power of water is ex- hibited in the wearing and undermining action which they invariably dis- play. The attention of tourists on the Alps is often called to deep gorges, at the bottom of which is heard the gurgling of the stream. The wearing or cutting action is to be unmistakably traced through tlie compact rock from the top to the bot.tom of this gorge, in the water- wo'-n hollows where the stream has evidently eddied and whirled at some remote period, sixty or eighty feet above ii,s present beil. Action of IIiveiis. — Mountain streams converge into rivers, which cany with them the mineral dehvis of the mountains, and distribute it over the })lains beneath. All large rivers flow, during a portion of their course, through fertile alluviil plains; and further study shows that these plains have been deposited oy the river itself, and are in fact composed of the mud brought from the liigher grounds to be deposited at a lower level. As rivers widen to waul} their estuaries, they often deposit still more exten- sive tracts of " alluvium," or mud. The Ganges in India, and the Mississippi in North America, both affonl remarkable instances of the jiower exercised by rivers in altering the dis- tribution of sea antl land. In the latter case, the mud, vegetable matter, and timber, brougho down and deposited at or near the mouth of the river, is rapidly filling up tlie Gulf of Orleans. It is difficult to draw a distinc- tion between the aition of the sea and the action of the river in many of these cases, but both agents act in determining the direction of ile- })Osition. Action of the Ocean. — Almost at any part of the coast traces of the perpetual struggle between sea and land may be seen. Action of Ice. — The expansive force of freezing water as a means of breaking down roiks has been already noticed. Ice and frost also play an important part in the formation of soils upon a large scale. The grind- ing action of glaciers upon the sides of the ravines through which they slowly descend — for a glacier is not stationary', but is actually a river ot ice — results in glacial mud, which, as the ice melts at the lower extremity, is carried down by the stream that perpetually runs from the glacier. These streams are renderet'. milky or turbid by suspended matter, and it is only when they reach the level land at the base of the mountain that they de- posit their burden in the form of alluvial, soil. In many cases it is carried THE iiOlli OF THK FARM. 3D3 into a lake, and sinking to the bottom, continues a process which, in the course of time, will gnulually convert tlie lake itself into an alluvial tract. Volcanic Action, — It is well known that lava slowly crumbles into a tine lertiie clay. The flanks of Vesuvius and /Etna are clothed with vine- yards and olive gardens, and the etl'ects of volcanic action are observable in certain parts of our own country, where the active cause has long ceased to operate. The formation of a soil from lava is efiecte into a cindery or scoriaceous ])orous mass, and this gradually yields to the infhiences of moisture and changes of temperature, and forms a .soil. I'kat. — There still remains a process by which a considerable class of soils has been formed, differing very widely from those which have been doscrilied. It is that oi vegetation o; growth. All |»eats have grown. and their history is sometimes traceable from its counnencement. Peat soils occur only in moderate and high latitudes, but form an important class of cultivated soils in some countries, a very large proportion of Ireland — that countiy containing :^,S()(),()0() acres of peat, — and largo tracts in France, Germany, Russia, and all north European countries. Peats fre- ([uently rest upon clay, and the liistory of their formation will be usually found to have been a modification of the following typical account. A forest or tract of brushwood is ovei'blown or levelled by some severe wind or flood. The conseiiuencc is an interruption of the natural drain- age (.f the locality, and the inducement of a wet and spongy condition of soil favourable to tlie growth of many species of iij)}i(i.(/niim. These plants have the property of throwing uj) new .shoots while the lower extremities are decaying. Peaty matter also appears to be pi-ecipitated from water at the freezing point, when organic mattei- held in .solution falls to the bottom, Indioknous (Sedentary) ano Tkaxsported Soils. — We are now able to divide all soils into two great cla,sse.s. First, those which may be .said to be ill situ, or to remain in the position where they were originall\- fornic'd. As an example, take the thin white soils of the Upper Chalk which correspond closely in character with the compact chalk rock be- neath. They are white, abound in flint stones, and evidently belong to the Chalk, and are properly termed chalk soils. So also the clays of the bias, of the Weald, and of the Oxford clay, the red soils of the New and Old lied Sandstone, and the " brashy " light soils of the Lower Oolite, all partake of the nature of the underlying rock, and are distinctly influenced S04 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCJ.OP.E'JIA. ,:' m 111 w by it. A largo [U'oportion of tlie soils of Great Britain are tlsus INDIQEN'OU!* or SEDENTAiiv, and rest upon the parent rock. Hence an important connec- tion Is at once evident between the geology and the agriculture of that country. The student is able to a certain extent to predicate the general character of a soil when lie knows the main geological features of the district. On the other hand, we cannot fail to observe that over large tracts the surface soil does not present any similarity of appearance or character when compared with the underlying rock. Here the surface soil has been TKA.NSPORTED from a distance. Sometimes it is superior in quality to what we might have expected, and in that case it is probably alluvial mat- ter deposited by some river in its course or at its estuary ; and there are cases in which the river that deposited those fertile plains has long ceased to flow. Or we may be standing upon an old lava field which covers and renders fertile an area that would otherwise have been comparatively barren. At other times the soil is of lower quality than we thought to find, and in such cases its poverty may be due to the growth of peat or the accu- mulation of " drift." " Drifted " material masks, or covers, many localities in Ontario and otlier countries, giving a poorer .soil than the underlying and ma.sked rock would have yielded. There are then two great classes of soils, the first baaring the stamp of its origin, and exhibiting a close relationship to the underlying rock, from which, indeed, it was formed. In studying these soily, the main geologi- cal features of the country are exceedingly useful guides. The second class comprises all alluvial, drifted, lava, and peaty soils, which, having been deposited, spread, or, in the last case, produced upon the spot at a later period, do not exhibit any correspondence with the main geological features of the district in which they occur. In Jiese, minute geological study is requisite if we wish to trace their origin. 3, Distribution of Soils. The bearings of geology upon agriculture are abundantly illustrated in the distribution of soils. It would be i -relevant to our subject to enter into the geological aspect of this subject at great length. The student who wishes to do so will find it necessary to study geology. It will, how- ever, greatly assist him to grasp the plan of soil distribution if he keeps in memory the order of succession of the main beds or formations which constitute the explored crust of the earth. 'I'HK SOIL OF THK FARM. 395 The importanco of this fact to tho agriculturist is at once apparent, wht'n we find that each Htratiini in turn occupies the surf nee of the coun- try. It is tho constant order of succession vvliich makes the arran<^emont of tho various formations of practical use to the land-valuer or the agri- culturist. Sonic geological formations yield soils of high average fertility, while others yield inferior soils. Some are stiff and expensive to work, while others are generally free working. It must, however, he remembercil that geological knowledge, although useful, is not entirely to be relied upon. On all formations, good, bad, and indifferent soils are no doubt to be met with, The mingling of formations together at their edges, accumulation of drifted matter, the occurrence of less important strata, unnoticed per- liaps in tho geological chart, and other reasons, create numerous excep- tions to any rule which may be laid down with respect to the soils of a certain geological formation. The subject is full of interest, and deserves, a lunger notice than we can lv^ present afford it. 4. Physical Propertiks of Soils, and Surroundixg Conditions. The Proximate Constituents of Soils. — Soils differ widely from each other in their pliysical properties. Some are wet and consequently cold ; others are warm and dry ; some are easily worked, while others are exceedingly tough; .some are easily burnt up by drought, while others maintain a thriving herbage through the most trying seasons. The phy- sical nature of a soil depends upon the proportion in which its proximate constituents are blended. All soils are composed of five i)roximate ingre- dients ; namely : (1) Sand, (2) Clay, (3) Lime, (4) Vegetable matter, (o) Mineral fragments (^stones). Whether derived from the decay of chalk or sandstone, it will be found that all fertile soils are thus constituted, and tho kind and quality of the soil depends to a great extent upon the pro- ])ortion in which these materials are mixed together. A short account of the.se familiar substances becomes therefore very necessary if we are to arrive at a sound conclusion rofjardiritj the nature of soils. Sand may be either calcar?ous, micaceous, or silicious. A calcareous sand simply means a sand in which particles of lime, it may be shells or chalk, abound. Many sea sands are of this nature and may be applied to liind as a source of lime. Pure sand is, however, free from lime, and con- sists almost exclusively of small grains of silicic acid (quartz). It is seen in its purest form as silver sand, and is accumulated in quantities wher- ever it is separated from earthy matter by the action of water. It is I S9G THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. !;i :ifej, insoluble in water and acids, and fuses into a vitreous mass when sub- jected to a white heat. Sand quickly dries, and possesses no power to absorb moisture from a damp atmosphere. A cubic foot of sand has been found able to hold 27 lbs. of water as a sponge, i.e., without dripping. Its retentive power to- "• vards heat renders it useful in the chemical laboratory as a " sand bath,' when it is required to keep up a uniform dry heat. Its insoluble, intract- able and simple or elementary characters render it unfit to support plant life. It cannot be said to be in any sense a plant food, but it acts as a divider or opener of the land. It facilitates the percolation of water through the soil ; renders the })assage of roots in search of food more easy ; confers a degree of warmth on soils first by drying them, an.i secondly from its inherent power of retaining warmth ; and renders the >.oil easy of tillage. All soils contain sand, and its greater or less predom- inance is used as a means of classifying them. Clay. — The purest forms are china or ]iorcelain and pipe clays. In the first forms it is found in vast (juantities, and becomes the basis of the manufacture of the finest white wares. It is plastic in its chr'.racter, anil to this property it owes its value as a material for making bricks ami pott-^iy. The minute particles which form clay have been observed to be crystalline in structure. When dry it may be reduced to an impalpable powder. When moist- ened it emits the characteristic argillaceous odoui', and becomes h.igbly ])lastic. When subjected to a low red heat it loses its plasticity, and be- '.•omes peiunanently hard and brittle — a fact of great importance not only in the arts but in agriculture. Clay is naturally colder than sand. In cliemical language clay i.s hydrated aluminium silicate, but in nature it is almost invariably associated with potash, soda, lime, ferric oxide, mag- nesia, and carbon dioxide. These impurities render clay much more valuable as a constituent of ^'oils than if it were pure. It is in consequence of their presence that a clay soil is very often rich, and that clay ranks among the most import- ant constituents of soils. Pure clay would be as little able to su[)port vegetation as pure sand, but when associated with sand, native or impure clay 3'ieldH, a fertile soil. The special functions it performs in a soil are, first, the mai'^tenance of fertility by the introduction of valuable mineral food constituents ; secondly, clay gives " body " to a soil, by which is meant a certain consistency favourable to the retention of moisture ; ami coolness which enables a soil to resist drought. THE SOIL OF THi: FARM. 397 len suu- e from a 1 hold 27 lower te- nd bath," ;, intract- )ort plant , acts as a of water bod more them, and 3nders the 3s predom- ^s. In tlie Eisis of tlie a-actcr, and bricks and ,erved to be Lime is widely distributed, and occurs in vast quantities. The chalk liills which sweep through England are almost puio lime. The Lower Oolite consists largely of lime, and the magnesian and mountain lime- stones occupy large areas of several counties. Lime is also found in tlie form of marls and marbles in many other geological formations, so that it is available for agricultural purposes in nearly all localitie'^ It is em- ployed as a manure in the forms of chalk, marl, and burnt lime, and its application and uses will occupy us when we consider the subject of man- ures. At present it appears before us as a constituent part of all fertile soils, and its wide distribution is illustrated by the fact that it invariably occurs in such soils in greater or less proportions. Although spoken of as " lime " by the farmer, it is more correctly described as calcium car- bonate (carbonate of lime). The carbon dioxide is readily displaced, and flies ofiF with brisk efFervesence when any stronger acid is applied. Pure calcium carbonate is found in nature in the forms of Iceland spar, white marble, and chalk. When exposed to a red heat it parts with its carbon dioxide and water, and when cool it is found to be porous in texture, and to exhibit an avidity for moisture and carbon dioxide, which renders it caustic. It reabsorbs the water, and to a limited extent the carbon diox- ide from the atmosphere, and as it does so " slakes " or " falls " into a mild powdery mass. If water is poured over the calcined lime, the slaking is more rapid, and accompanied by the evolution of much sensible heat. The characteristic colour of lime is white — that of the Magnesian, such as that at Guelph, Ontario, having a ybilow tinge. It is intermediate between sand and clay in tenacity and in its power of holding water. Lime is an important constituent of all fertile soils. It is in itself a plant food, and a valuable manure. It exerts a strong effect upon decay- ing vegetable matter by accelerating its resolution into carbon dioxide, ammonia, and water ; it also combines with vegetable acids, and form.** with them neutral lime-salts, no longer injurious to vegetation. It plays an important part towards the mineral matter of the soil, by decomposing the silicates and setting free their alkalies. Lime acts mechanically by improving the texture of clay soils, and being of intermediate tenacity, it is also able to confer a higher degree of consistency upon light soils. Like clay, lime owes its agricultural value in a great degree to its impurities. Magnesian limestone, as its name implies, contains from 36 to 40 per cent, of magnesium carbonate, and about, or above, 50 per cent, of calcium carbonate. The limestones which form the Chalk, and the formations of mountain and oolitic limestones, are chiefly composed of the latter salt ; but associated with it there occur ferric oxide, phosphorus pentoxide, cal- SOS THS i:OME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. ■cium sulphate, silicia, water, and a trace of organic matter. Thus clay and native limestone will be seen to contain most of the elementary sub- stances which enter into the composition of the ash of plants. Vegetable Matter has accumulated in all cultivated soils, and in the form of peat it sometimes composes the entire mass. It is to the pre- sence of humus or vegetable matter that the rich brown colour of good land is due, It may be described as a dark-brown, soft, porous, sub- stance, seen in the greatest purity in the form of well-rotted wood or leaf- mould. It is constantly in a state of decay or slow combustion, which is never completely arrested until it is reduced to the condition of pure car- bon. The earlier agricultural chemists attributed a greater importance to this constituent of soils than is at pn -ent assigned to it. It was ob- served that all garden soils and fertile loams were rich in vegetation mat- ter, and the inference was drawn that it was the cause of fertility. The late Baron Liebig, in his work on Agricultural Chemistry, published in 1840, demolished this theory by showing that humus was .»ot the cause, but rather an inevitable consequence of richnes.s. A rich soil, suitable for the growth of plants, cannot fail to accumulate vegetable matter by the fall of the leaf and the death of root fibres, A soil may be rich without hu- mus, as is proved by the fertility of lava soils. The more a soil produces, the greater will be its stock of humus, as for example, in the case of a crop of mangel or swedes, or in the case of a hay or straw crop, the accu- mulation of roots in the soil leaves it positively richer in humus than it originally was, in spite of the many tons per acre of produce removed in the root crops. Land adapted for the growth of timber will yield many tons per acre of wood in the course of years, and yet the soil will be posi- tively better stored with organic matter or humus at the end of the period than it was at the commencement. This can only be explained on tb? ground that the carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen, Avhich constitute humus, are derived from the air and not from the soil. Although useful, it is therefore seen to be less essential than any of the proximate constituents yet noticed. Humus is not assimilated directly by flowering plants. It is valuable as a perpetual source of carbon dioxide, and in a less degree as a source of nitrogen. The gradual decay of humus maintains the interstitial atmos- phere, rich in carbon dioxide, and impregnates the rain which penetrates the soil with the same ingredient. It is in this manner that humus be- comes useful in the nutrition of plants, and at the same time assists in that slow digestion which liberates insoluble matter from the soil, anJ renders it fit for the use of the plant. Humus is also highly valuable i" THE SOIL OF THE FARM. 3!)i) I US clay ary sub- id in the the pre- . of good ■ous, suh- id or leaf- , which is pure car- mportance [t was ob- ation mat- iUty. The iedinl840, cause, but able for the by the fall without hu- jil produces, ,e case of a )p, the accu- nus than it removed in yield many tvill be posi- )f the pcrio^l LTied on the tute humus, useful, it i^ constituents ^t is valuable a source of Ititial atmos- Ih penetrates It humus be- lie assists in [the soil, aud valuable m modifying the texture of land. Without it a soil would be light in colour — powdery, dry, and harsh to the touch. With it it becomes brown in colour, cool, moist, and mellow, and in every way better fitted for the growth of [dants. Mineral Fr.ujmlnts (Stones). — Although stones might at first sight appear rather as intruders than as legitimate constituents of a soil, their constant occurrence and important uses lead us to consider them in the latter light. Their precise nature will depend upon the origin of the soil. Thus in an alluvial deposit or drifted soil we expect to find water- worn round pebbles ; in an oolitic limestone, irregular fragments ploughed up from the rock beneath, and in a chalk soil we expect to find flints. They always modify the character of land when they occur in large numbers. Many soils now worked as light land would be unworkable clays were they not lightened up and divided by countless stones. It is also im- portant to bear in mind tliat stones may be regarded as undecayed frag- ments of the original rock from which the soil itself was derived. Thev arc of all sizes, down to minute chips and particles, and especially must these smaller particles yield up fresh mineral food iov plants under the in- fluences of frost, warmth, and moisture. A time must come in which even the largest will crumble down, and hence we may regard the mineral fragments as a magazine of mineral plant food. A soil is then no mere mass of "powdered rock, but a complex substance the product of various forces, acting through long cycles, and modified by the growth of plants, and the decay of both vegetable and animal matter. Soils may be spoken of as the graveyard of countless generations of ani- mated nature ; as stocked with plant food at once available, and fortified with further as yet unprepared material, forthcoming when required. In the language of a respected authority, it may be spoken of as a labo- ratory, in which beneficial changes are ever taking place, a vehicle by which plant food finds its way to the root fibres of growing vegetation, and a storehouse of present and future plant food. The physical properties of soils will be modified according to the propor- tions in which sand, clay, lime, vegetable matters, and mineral fragments enter into their composition. In order to possess fertility in the highest degree, a soil must afford easy access and egress to superfluous water, but at the same time must |)osses8 .sufficient retentive power to guard against protracted drought ; its texture must be at once firm and yielding, so as to afford protection to root fibres, while it allows of their free passage in search of nutriment; it should be 400 THE HOMK. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCL()P.'Kni.V. well stocked with available plant food ; and so situated with reference to subsoil and climate as to insure the realization of the .above good qualities. Porosity. — A fertile soil must be porous, i.e., the particles which com- pose it must not be too near together, but allow I'oom for an interstitial atmosphere, the free percolation and retention of water, and for the con- densation of valuable fertilising matters upon the interstitial siu-faces. The porosity of soils is an exceedingly interesting subject. It occupied the attention of Jethro Tull early in the last century, and it aftbrded a fertile theme for investigation to the late Sir H. Thomjison, of Kirby, and subsequently to the late Baron Liebig, Professors Way and Voelcker, Sir J. B. Lawes, and other chemists. The porosity of a soil may be measured by the fineness of its particles. A coarse-grained sand, although more open in its texture, is in reality less porous than a finely grained clay. It has /ewe?* pores. Every time we break a fragment of any substance we increase the extent of its superficies, and this is practically true ad injini- turn; so that an impalpable powder presents the largest possible surface, and is in a condition of maximum porosity. Our most porous soils are therefore our clays, a statement that is capable of satisfactory demonstra- tion, although the use of the word in this connection would scarcelv be accepted by agriculturists, who speak of sands as porous, in opposition to clays, which are spoken of as retentive soils. The porosity of soils explains some of their most interesting physicjvl functions. It is owing to this property that they are able to retain sutti- cient moisture for the use of growing vegetables. It is also owing to the same property, assisted by others, that soils are able to appropriate and hold certain valuable fertilizing matters with sufficient strength to over- come the tendency of the rainfall to wash them beyond the reach of plants. That these important functions are possessed in the highest de- gree by clay soils, is sufficient proof that these soils possess the highest degree of porosity. Capillarity, — This property also depends upon porosity. It is observ- able that when a fluid is admitted between very closely contiguous sur- faces, such as two plates of glass held almost touching, and dipped into water, the fluid will be seen to rise between the plates to a considerably higher level than its own. Lump-sugar and blotting-paper dipped into water are familiar examples of the same force ; and a lump of clay, if ii»- mersed in a saucer of water, will become wet to its summit from the same cause. The finer the interstitial spaces, the higher will the fluid ascend; and hence we find that a column of finely-powdered clay will become wet thirty-six inches above the surface of the water into which its base i;^ THE SOIL OF THE FARM. 401 srence to qualities, lich com- \terslitial the con- i-faces. u occu\)ifi'«s'-^«'' 414 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA, '!|? should take place at a low temperature. This treatment by Inirning is a very extreme one, and can be recommended only in few cases ; it must always be attended with an entire loss of the nitroj^en in the soil burnt. The ploujfhing in of biu-nt clay is of use in improving the texture of heavy land. THE CHKMTSTIIY OP CROPS. To understand the chemistry of crops we must first inquire as to their composition. The following table gives the average composition of onli- naiy farm crops. The quantities of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen present are omitted, also some of the smaller Jish constituents. By " pure ash " is understood the ash minus sand, charcoal, and carbonic acid. The composition of gi'ain and of all seeds, is tolerably constant ; but the composition of straw, leaves, roots, and tubers, will vary very consi«lerably according to the character of the soil, manure, and season. uii 'li' i3»i,l|,> THE CHKMISTRY OF THE FARM. 415 it must )il burnt, exture of THE WEIGHT AND AVER.\GE (.'OMPOHITION OF ORDINARY CROPS INT POirNDH PER ACHE, Weight of crop. ^1 P. Nitrogen. Sulphur. 1 lb: 0-9 2.t> 3.4 i a 1 1) •n M H K lb. 1800 3158 4'J58 O "lb. 1530 2(153 4183 3 Whkat, grain, 30bu?h. . ** straw Ib. 31 1.58 18!) lb. 33 12 45 lb. 27 5-1 7-8 lb. 97 18-2 27-9 11). 1-0 9-2 10-2 11). 3-7 4-0 77 lb. 14-3 8-4 lb. 0-2 17 1-9 lb. 0-.'> 110-6 Total croj) 227 111-1 Baki.ky, j;i'aiii,tO 1)iih)i. . ' ' straw 2080 2417 4527 1747 2080 3827 40 IW 140 .35 2-9 12; 3-2 47 01 9 8 210 314 10 4-2 1-.3 4 8 5 2-5 10 2 4-4 20 0-4 3-2 3 12-0 51 -R Total ( rop 5. 9.8 0-5 03.5 Oats, K'''ti". 'If) Ijiish lH!\o 2H3.-. 4725 lti2.'-. 2353 3'J78 ~S4 140 194 38 14 52 3 2 4-8 8-5 20-6 1-4| 2-0 5-9 9 8 3-9 5-3 9.2 11-8 7-1 18-9 .5-5 5.5 24-8 69 -IJ^ Total crop 8-Oi 38-1 1 7-3 118 341 Mkadow JIay, li toil. . . ;i3t;o 2H22 208 49 57 50-3 11-9 28-1 1 10-i 127 l(i-2 i:7-5 liKDCl.OVKK llAY.'iton. 4180 37(i;{ 255 102 9-4| 87-4 4-1 80-1 1 30 9 25-1 9-4 0-8 15KANS, t,'ra!ii,;30 bush. . . ' ' straw 2210 4100 1013 1848 57 187 77 22 99 4-4 4-9 9.3 230| 0-8 58 -l! 4-9 2-9 .30-2 33-1 3-8 10-3 14-1 22-'J "i)-2 31-5 1-5 0-8 181 9 81-1 Total crop 3401 57 19-0 77 TliiNii'.s, root, 17 tou If.if :i.soH() ;04, 4657 1 218 140 304 71 1 15 '2 491 57 1 108 40-2 1488 17-0 ( 6 24-5 25-5 48-5 1 ;.--7 3-8 9-0 22 -41 107 33 1 10-9 11-2 22-1 2-() 5-1 Total crop 120 201) 74-0 7-7 S\VKiiE.H, riMit, 11 ton " loaf " .... ;{i;;()0 4704 3(i0(;4 ;<;it',i 706 1055 103 75 238 74 28 102 14-0 3-2 17-8* 03-3 10-4 797 22-8 9-2 197 227 0-8 2-4 9-2 10i» 4-8 217 ti.8 8-3 31 3-6 Total crop 32-0 42-4 15-1 1 67 kAN(iEL8, root, 22 ton. . 1 " leaf 41t2H() 182;!3 G7513 .5028, 1054 410 280 690 90 4-9 I'.tll 754 51| 91| 71-4 05.2 24-2 29 1 53-3 197 27 '2 46 9 31 -0 15-1 40 10-4 49 8; 9-2 Total crop 7282 147 14 -01202 '5 140-6 49 -ll 1 90-4| 25-6 l'uTAT()i;s, tuliers, (J ton. haulm* l;i440 4274 17714 331 iO| e subsoil, and accumulates nitrogen at the surface in the form of a crop. The particular food supply of a leguminous crop becomes exhausted by repeated cropping, and the land in said to be " clover " or " bean sick ; " AA 418 THK HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. 'ill i* no means of remedying this condition is known save by the growth of other crops for a series of years. Potash manures have generally a veiy beneficial effect upon leguminous crops ; they fail, however, to cure clover sickness. Gy^um is also valuable, though to a less extent. Root Crops. — All these crops contain a large amount both of nitrogen and ash constituents ; among the latter potash greatly preponderates. Tur- nips contain more sulphur than any other farm crop. The turnip and mangel crop differ in several respects. Turnips and swedes dravv their food chiefly from the sui-faco soil. Their power of taking up nitrogen from the soil is distinctly greater than that of tho cereal crops. Turnips are also well able to supply themselves with potash when growing in a fertile soil, but they have singularly little power of appropriating the combined phosphoric acid of the soil ; fresh applicatioas of phosphatic manures thus always produce a marked effect on this crop. Mangels have far deeper roots than turnips, and also a longer period of growth. They have a great capacity for drawing food from the soil, in- cluding both nitrogen, potash, and phosphoric acid. When removed off the land they are probably the most exhaustive a crop a farmer can grow. As mangels have not the same difficulty that turnips have of attacking the combined phosphoric acid of the soil, phosphatic manures are, in their case, of much less importance. Purely nitrogenous manures, as nitrate of sodium, when applied alone to mangels, generally produce a great effect on the crop ; this is not the case with turnips, which require phosphates as well as nitrogen in their manure. As both turnips and mangels consume extremely large amounts of plant food, a liberal general manuring with farmyard manure is in most caso^ essential for the production of a full crop ; but the special characteristic of the manure for turnips should be phosphatic, and of that for mangels nitrogenous. Potatoes are surface feeders, and require a liberal general manuring to ensure an abundant crop. As both root crops and potatoes require large supplies of potash, kainit will be found of service on land naturally poor in that ingredient. It will be chiefly required when the crops are raised with artificial manures only, as farmj'^ard manure will always supply a considerable amount of potash. It is worth noting in these times in our Provincial history that the growth of forest timber is far less exhaustive to the soil than ordinary farm culture. The demand on the soil becomes, however, considerably greater if the trees are cut wlien young — young timber and small branches THE CHEMISTRY OF THE FARM. 419 cr rowth of itrummous ) valuable, f nitrogen ates. Tur- urnips and r power of that of tht! vitb potash Ic power of applications m this crop. 'er period of the soil, in- removed off ler can grow. :,£ attacking are, in their as nitrate of 1, great effect ?, phosphates ants of plant ~[n most case characteristic for mangels Imanm-ing to )otash,kainit ient. It^viH tianures only, ^nt of potasli' tory thattli^ [han ordinary considerably Lall branches bein ^%. «. -n.:^ IMAGE EVALUATrON TEST TARGET (MT-3) 7 // // :/. Cr. ^ fc M 1.0 I.I i.25 '- *« 1 2.2 jt |;s 1 2.0 b. u .'." i.8 lA 111.6 % <^ v^ 0^ /} ^ % (? ■/r .% #. vV 420 THE HOME, I'ARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. t It is doubtless possible by means of rotations manured on the above principles to farm successfully with the sale of all the crops produced, and without the use or farmyard manure ; this is possible at least so lono- as arti6cial manures can be obtained at a low price. In the majority of cases, howevei, the special manurin*,' will only be required to supplement the general manuring by farmyard manure. Under these circumstances it would seem best, from a chemical point of view, to apply the farmyard manure to those crops which most require potash, or which stand most in need of a general mantiring ; such crops v7ould be pasture, seeds, turnips and potatoes. The economic value of potash manures varies much on different soils, As potassium salts are an expensive manure, the farmer should always ascertain by means of small lield experiments whether they will, in liis case, yield a remunei-ative result, before employing them on any large scale. As the whole object of artificial manuring is to supplement the deficleu- cies of the soil, it is highly desirable that a farmer should ascertain by trials in the field what is the actual amount of increase which he obtains from the application of the manures he purchases. A few carefully made experiments will teach him what his land and crops a-e really in need of. Should he add superphosphate with the nitrate of sodium for his wheat ■ What dressing of the nitrate is most economical ? Is superphosphate alone sufficient for his turnip crop, or should guano or nitrate be employed as well ? What is the smallest quantitv of superphosphate sufficient fdi' the crop ? Will it pay to u.se potassium salts for his seeds or pasture? These and many other questions can only be answered by trials on his own fields, and on the farmer's knowledge of such facts will depend the i economy with which he is able to use purchased manures. ^lu ^DtaiiD of the Jarm. HE term Botany is derived from the Greek word Borai/r;, meaning an herb or grass. As a science it includes every- thing relating to the vegetable kingdom, whether in a living or in a fossil state. Its object is not, as some have suppo:ied, merely to name and arrange the vegetable pro- ductions of the globe. It embraces a consideration of the ^f y^^ ~7 external forms of plants — of their anatomical structure, ^ 7, however minute — of the functions M'hich they perform ^ — of their arrangement and classification — of their dis- tribution over the globe at the present and at former epochs, and of the uses to which they are subservient. It examines the plant in its ear- liest state of development, when it appears as a simple cell, and follows it through all its stages of progress until it attains maturity. It takes a comprehensive view of all the plants which cover the earth, from the minutest lichen or moss, only visible by the aid of the microscope, to tho most gigantic productions of the tropics. It marks the relations which subsist between all members of the vegetable world, and traces the mode in which the most despised weeds contribute to the growth of the mignty denizens of the forest. It '.s a science, then, which demands careful and minute investigations — requires great powers of observation and research, and is well fitted to train the mental powers to vigorous and prompt ac- tion. Botany may be divided into the following departments : — I. Structural Botany, having reference to the anatomical structure of the various parts of plants, including vegetable Histology, or the microscopic examination of tissues. 2. Morpholoc/ical Botany, or the study of the form of plants and their organs ; these two departments are often included under the general term of Organography. 3. Physiological Botany, which is by some termed Organology, tho study of the life of the entire plant and its organs, or the consideration of the functions of the living plant. 4. Tax- <>i^jgical Botany, or the arrangement, and classification of plants. 5. Geo- graphical Botany, t'le consideration of the mode in which plants are dis- tributed over the diflferent quarters of the globe. G. Palwontological Bo- 422 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPyEDIA. tany, the study of the forms and structures of the plants found in a fossil state in the various strata of which the earth is composed. But more particularly for our purpose, this science may be divided into two distinct branches. (1) Systematic Botany, and (2) Vegetable Physi- ology. — The first teaches the names, uses, history, and classification of plants, the second, the manner in which the various organs of ])lants are formed, the purposes for which they have been destined, the manner in which they act, and are influenced b^^ internal causes. Systematic botany is of direct importance to farmers, so far as it enables them to recognise the various plants 'Employed in cultivation, or the weeds which are ti'oublesome to them. Vegetable physiology, however, is that part of botany which farmers should make themselves well acquainted with. There is scarcely an oi>er~ ation in the art of agriculture which does not depend upon a knowledge of the phenomena which are explained by vegetable physiology, and no man can possibly understand the principle on which he acts unless he has made himself master of its fundamental laws. All the great improvements in the preparation of land for cropping were proposed in the first instance by vegetable physiologists, or depend essentially upon the operation of laws which they have explained. Drainage is one example of this ; the improvement of the roots of plants, the augmentation of the productive powers resident in particular crops, the preservation of the purity of their breeds, the mode of manuring them, the destruction of weeds, the manage- ment of timber, and many other things are wholly influenced bylaws which it is impossible to understand correctly in the absence of a familiar- ity with the principles of vegetable physiology, independent of chemistry. A person desirous of studying agriculture upon scientific principles, requires to knc", the circumstances which affect the germination of seeds; why in some seasons, they will not grow, while in others their success is per- fect. His attention must be drawn to the conditions most favourable or unfavourable to the progress of the seedling plant, to the gradual consoli- dation of its parts, to the development of the wondrous organs which the Creator has given it to feed with and multiply. They all are most important subjects of consideration with those who would study agriculture philosopliically, or who expect to introduce im- provements into ordinary j)iactice, for altliough it may bo true that acci- dent has led to more discoveries than science ; yet there can be no doubt that such discoveries v^ould have been long anticipated had science been consulted THE BOTANY OF THE FAKM. 423 In examining the Vegetable Kingdom, we observe that the individuals composing it are formed by the Almighty in accordance with a principle of order, as well as a principle of special adaptation. In other woi'ks on Botany the structure and arrangements of the various parts of the root, stem, leaves, and flowers of plants, and their different functions will be found. It is our ])rcsent duty to apply the facts of vegetable anatomy and physiology to the classification of plants, and to consider the plan according to which they arc grouped together in classes and families. We see around us various kinds or sorts of plants, more or less rcsem- liling each other — or, in other words, more or less related to each other, in Systematic Botany we endeavour to mark these resemblances, and to determine their relations. It is impossible to give a scientific arrange- ment of the plants of the globe without a thorough knowledge of struc- ture, anrl without an extensive acquaintance with the vegetation of all parts of tke world. We cannot expect to determine the system on which plants have been grouped, until we are familiar with all the forms which they present. Hence, in the present state of our knowledge, there must be imperfection in our attempts at systematising. The floras of many regions in Africa, India, China,* Australia, and America, are still unknown, and we may therefore conclude that in all systems there will be gaps, to be filled up as our knowledge increases. Sufficient, however, is known to enable us to group plants according to certain evident alliances. The necessity for arrangement is evident, when we reflect that there are probably 150,000 known species of plants on the earth. In order to make these available for scientific purposes, it is absolutely essential that they should be named and classified. In associating plants in certain groups, we naturally proceed on an idea of resemblance or likeness. While in onliuary language this idea is vague and indefinite, in scientific langu- age it must be strict and rigorous, It is not enough to .say that one planu resembles another in its general aspect, we must ascertain the particulars of agreement, and the points in which they differ ; we must weigh well the importance of the characters, and must compare organs which are equivalent in value ; and thus we shall often find, that plants which to common observers appear alike are in reality totally different. The study of the anatomy of plants gives us a strict and accurate technical langu- iige which nmst be rigidly adhered to in classification. Plants, as they occur in nature, are viewed as individuals resembling or differing from each other. Some individuals are so decidedly alike that we at once give them the same name. Thus a field of wheat is com- posed of numerous similar individuals which can be separated from each 42 i THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. T other, but cannot be distinguished by any permanent or marked differ- ence. Although there may be some variation in size and other minor points, still we at once say they are stalks of wheat. Every grain of wheat, when sown, produces a stalk of wheat ; these stalks yield grains, which produce individuals like their parents. The shoots or buds given off from the base of wheat by tillering also produce stalks of wheat. On such universal and inevitable conceptions as these, our ideas of Species are founded. A Species may be defined as an assemblage of individuals presenting certain constant characters in common, and derived from one original stock. For each species we believe that there has been a parent stock, which has given origin to a succession of similar individuals. They may differ slightly in size, or in colour, and other unimportant respects, but they resemble each other more closely than they resemble any other plant, and their seeds produce similar individuals. Observation anft common daily experience demonstrate, in the actual circumstances in which we exist, the permanence of the types which constitute the species of living bodies. There is no evidence whatever of a transmutation of species. The erroneous statement regarding the conversion of oats into rye or wheat into chess have proceeded from imperfect observations. The indi- viduals, however, of a species may present certain differences in regard to size, colour, etc., these differences depending on soil, and on varying con- ditions of heat, light, and moisture. Such differences are not incompat- ible with the idea of a common origin, and, moreover, there is always a tendency to return to the original type. What are called Varieties there- fore, are variations in species, which are not in general of a permanent character, and cannot be kept up in ordinary circumstances by seed. By cultivation, however, such varieties are sometimes perpetuated. This is usually accomplished by means of cuttings or grafts, and in certain instan- ces even by seed. Thus the varieties of the cereal grains and of culinary vegetables have been propagated so as to constitute permanent Races. Plants under cultivation are liable to sport, as it is called, and the jiocu- liarities and variations thus produced are sometimes kept up. All the varieties of cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli, savoys, and curled greens, are derived from one stock — Brassica oleracea. This plant grows wild on the sea-shore, and when cultivated it undergoes remarkable changes. Thus it forms a heart, as in ordinary cabbage ; its flower- stalks become thickened and shortened, as in cauliflower and broccoli ; or cellular tissue is largely developed between the vessels of the leaves, so as to give rise to the crisp and curly appearance of the greens. This tendency in the THE BOTANY OF THE FARM. 425 p ;int to produce monstrosities was early noticed by cultivators, and care was taken to propagate those individuals which showed abnormal appear- ances. The seeds of such were saved, put into good soil, and no plants were allowc .jeen changed, and whose exces- sive growth has been stimulated by the ])resence of copious supplies of 'Tioisture. If there is an equal supply of water all round, the growth of the roots will be uniform ; but if, as is more often the case, there is move water on one side than on the other, then the root will curve to the side where there is the fullest supply, and the power thus exerted to get at the water is greater than that of gravity. The Action of Light and Heat on Roots. — The direct action of light upon roots i.s, of course, usually of a negative character. The foini and direction of growth in the root may, however, be affected by ditlerencesof temperature, experienced now on one side, now on another, Darwin has shown that the movements of roots, due to irritation or contact, are checked by too high or too low a temperature. During their passage through the soil, the roots must be constantly subjected to variations of temperature, first on one side and then on another, the variations giving rise to some ot the curvatures and bends of the rootlets. i its lengtli sctreme ti]H )m the skin lie soil, inches, the , are placdl iches. The h are either it, as in the thickness of inibiiun, the :ogens " ami [ shrnl)s, the r in various re generally, lat is to say. ;ral tendency s to the L^en- nce to which ^ay in w hich hen access to Is txe t chokeil Iwhose exces- ■s of ppli is supplies lie u'row thol there is more |e to the siJc to get at the ptionof liglit [he f 01 mam: lirierences 1 of Darwin hu^ heckeil I through the are c temper ature. ^e to some of ai al of re th of pel thf sul w)i not tisi life this righ to b( tion •-asil^ ^t(..{,, effect ^tO(xl Ac exces,' leaves the ab THE BOTANY OF THE FARM. PKACTICAr. lNFEBENC-ES._It will K, U ■ ^^'^ tl-^ bneily ».i<,, t„„e fo, ouU„» ' ';p„t^:^"'^"; f-- ^Imt ha, been onnoctod with tillage, the nature' Znt U f *"""■«"» oporatio^ .-mo. and the like, the eharact .-Tf" ^t a't '"'" "^ ^""'^"on „ ^tudifd ,n connection witli the natun. , T " '" S0'>'''< mu.st be i«-,a fo,„, and chavacte-istict of " ', ''V'^ "^ "- -il- The «i.sl..d to cultivate-tap-rooted fil '" *'"' Particular cro,, it ! -r-.etc._„„:.,--~.^^^^^^ T-rrSdir^rX^^ th ^?^^^t:z. ,,ecie. Hyance chlorophyll i.s only'i,?' I'lv fo""! ."/ *« '^"^ -- '<^^Z Action OF Frost.— VVJion n ?„ ^- i- ':Ort;™T"*^™^^^^^^^^^^^^ "'.^ Jo, rupture of the cell wall ,"*'","'« mterior of tlie eelh 'f ::,';; t'nder ordinary cltr^„r hr ce^P f" '"°'' ''-''^'~ ;.i-.e.s of theicTnet'^hr;::: ■'■"'■■ '■",^-™ ™-^' -'''n tti rr: 1 ■ fe aet.o„ i, resumed. Winter C.; :,: T*^'' "^ "^ -ubr , "a"d - .-.nor, but it i, comparative r a rt'rr;""^ ^™°- f-™ in tionoff). xV '^"^ ^^^^ IS sufficient fn I-.-ii .1 ^^^"^^^'"isshoAvn AcTiox OF Excessive Heat ov r . leaves. f ^^'' absorption of fresh tr' "'' ^''^^^Piration is 434 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS OYCLOP/EDIA. night, while the roots are still at work, the transpirinsj^ power of the leaf is lessened, and drops of water exude from the leaves. Where the totn- perature is so high as to kill the plant or leaf outright, it is the proLo- ])lasm which dies ; its constitution and molecular construction becoino changed, its power of absorbing water destroyed, and thus the turj^'id condition of the cells is lost. Influence of Heat and Moisture on the Stem. — The growth of the stem is directly influenced by heat, there being in this as in other cases a minimum below which growth cannot take place, an optimum at wliich it takes place most vigorously, and a maximum beyond which heat is in- jurious. The favourable influence of heat it is which in part overcomes the influence of gravitation, and enables the stem to ascend. The stoin will grow fastest and strongest on the side mo.st exposed to the heat, if that heat be net excessive, and this tendency will remove it from the soil. Similarly a moist condition of the atmosphere favom-s growth, and the stem will grow the faster on the side most exposed to the moist vapour, and, owing to the convexity so formed, it will in consequence bend its free end and its concavity towards the drier side. Germination. — The conditions under which germination takes place need not be alluded to a^ any length, as they are the same as those re- quisite for growth, and practically every cultivator knows that air (oxy- gen), moisture, and heat, varying in amount according to the plant .iml according to circumstances, are required, and that his success depends in great measure upon the proper tillage of the soil which secures these requisites. When the seed, or rather the embryo plant within it, begius to grow, water is absorbed, the seed swells, the insoluble starch stored up becomes converted into glucose, or a form of sugar, by the agency of a nitrogenous substance which acts as a ferment. These chemical processes are accompanied by an evolution of heat and an outpouring of carbonic acid gas. Thus is it that in malting barley the grain swells, gets hot, and its starch is converted into sugar. As the seedling grows, both starch and sugar gradually disappear, although the stock of starch is continually replenished so long as the leaves continue to act. The nitrogeneous con- stituents of the seed undergo similar changes from the insoluble to the soluble condition, the latter being capable of transport from place to place as may be required. Fertilisation. — In the case of plants grown for their, fruit or seed, as in the case of wheat and cereals generally, much attention has naturally to be paid to the conditions which favour sexual multiplication. THK BOTANY OI- THE kaRM. 'i'lio morphological character of tl„. nl„ . , *''^ -1 te™, it u,.y bo ,,„ ,,, r' ,;;; ' ™f-So a change. !„ ,,„„. "" «'■"""' »•"' mode of ckvolonmenro t ! f "°"' '" ""'^ted, and pa t, „i tne flower arc constructed on the' .i? ' '" '"'"'' "' ""= ««»'«■. Ail JLeprocev of fertilisation n.av Z '■! "?''S'""1 P'an a.s leave» lows .-The ovule contain., in a cell i , T' *"" °"'"--''" '"™^ «» ol one .peend piece of .uotoph,..„t" „?":;"',":'•■ f "' »' it^ ^^^ "HO the embryo plant. The pollen-cell c • ' '" <'"^"""' ^ develoD ""- In, ng ; the outer coat bu an ,7"^ "' '"' ""'»'■ »-' ■'" 1 » p.o r„,led in the forn, of a tube hi If '"7 "■■»"'l'l''»™io lining " a,a.,t,c fungus, on the content" of th,° . n / '"= '"' " ffo^s. like a ll"' ovule and comas in nl,,.„ "'.""• <=""» "f the .stylo tilFif , • 1 , ^"Jiics la Close nrnviMiiV., a •/• v ""> ^m it I'eiiplipa «rt .sed by the pollen or .spctn I ;,?,'= T'' ™« «^™' i ' u "' , :,"'^ :™ "' "- ™.>3.-yo plant Lsl,ttr r '"° ^""^ '« ■•■»"'*"' ":'''';'• ."- fi'.™er is concerned l«ve for tT"""""' *"' ">" «"-«- with a hey ,„„ti„„^„^ '.ennaphrodi te-th t ' "'h"°'' ''°""'^'' <■»"<•- 'Ji'irn particular «o\ver f,>tf;i; .u "^^ ">'^t is, that the nollpn ^ ■ ' ^^"tch clover and the red clover. %\u Jfann anli JHctcovology. -I ^ I 'LIMA.TE. — Tho influence of weather upon crops is far greater than the influence of manure. If to the pos- session of the previous cliaracteristics of a good soil wo can add a good climate, we shall have all the necessary conditions of fertility. The importance of climate can- not bo overrated, for it is the innuediate cause of the vast difference in productive power between a Tropical and an Arctic region. The term climate cxpres.ses three conditions, each of which is essential to the venfo- tative process — namely, light, heat, and moisture. These three conditions are all due to that energy which is constantly emanating from the sun, and lienee vegetable life becomes more and more intensely active as the power of the sun increases, whether it be towards the equator, or towards that period of the year when the sun's action is most direct and long continued. It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remind the student that the genoial character of the climate varies chiefly with latitude. If climate steadily improved as we travelled southward, and steadily became colder as we travelled north, the subject would have but little interest for agriculturists. This is, however, far from the case, for the climate of a country or locality is always considerably affected by variousother circumstances besides that of latitude. To such an extent is this the case, that probably every farm, and even field, boasts a particular climate, and practical fai-mers take cli- mate into account when they are weighing the advantages or disadvan- tages of particular farms. England lies in the same latitude as Moscow, and considerably higher than Newfoundland. The favourable climate which, despite adverse crit- icisms, England enjoy.s, is due to its insular position and the Gulf Stream, and, interesting as the subject is, we cannot further enlarge uj)on it here. Besides latitude, climate varies under the following circumstances: Alti- tude, longitude, proxhnity to the sea, lakes, rivers, or marshes, asjyed, char- acter o/tJiesoil, and situation, as affected hy shelter, slope, or inclination of the ground, etc. Each of these circumstances exerts a marked e fleet upon the climate of a farm, and therefore upon its productive power. THK FARM AND METEOROLOGY. 437 IS iH far the pos- 1 soil we lecessarv uate ciin- se of the I Tropical expresses the vege- coutlitions in tiie sun, tive as the or towards I and h>ng .lie goncval to steadily Uler as we riculturists. or locality )esides that jvery tavnii [vs take cli- (lisadvan- Lbly hig^\^^i' lavcrse cvit- mlf stream, Lou it heve. lices: AUi- tvked ettect hower. Altitude. — Wheat refuses to ripen in Britain when grown at elevations of from 1000 to 1200 feet, a fact which proves the influence of altitude. An elevation of 1500 feet is sufficient to seriously im])air the fertility of tields for even the hardier crops. On the other hand the same, and a much higher altitude, on tHe American continent grows wheat to perfec- tion. Longitude. — Climate varies considerably in the matter of rainfall from east to west. The effect on the agriculture of the two sides of an island country is also easily seen in the prevalence of grazing on the west, and the leaning towards the cultivation of cereals on the east. The Gulf Stream also acts beneficially on climate, receiving additional warmth from its presence. Proximity to the Sea usually gives a more uniform temperature than is enjoyed far inland, and this is attributed to the unifor-m temperature of the adjacent mass of water. Lakes and Marshes influence climate. The latter e.specially often give vise to night fogs, which chill the ground and render the air unwholesome. An ordinary result is the prevalence of ague, and, it may be, certain form.s of fever among the human population, and even the live stock of the farm are apt to suffer from allied ailments. Forests. — The leaves of trees condense the atmospheric vapour, and precipitate it to the ground, as may often be noticed in a humid atmos- phere. It is many years since Humboldt pointed out the effect of forests upon the supply of springs, and the consequent injury that may follow from their destruction. Hills clothed with wood offer a barrier to the descent of cold currents of air, and are also directly a shelter from the wind. The difference in temperature between a bare mountain and one which carries a forest on its higher slopes has been often remarked. Aspect is an exceedingly important element in influencing the climate. Who does not know the value of a southern aspect for wall-fruit, or of a northern aspect for a dairy i Such cases at once .show that aspect exertvS a decided influence. Attention has been drawn to the effect of slope or inclination upon climate, and such effect might have been included under the present heading. Aspect is, however, a wider term, and might include, as it certainly goes beyond, slope. The aspect of a house or a bedroom is a matter of importance, and so also is the aspect of a field. Shelter. — Exposure or shelter must also be enumerated as a regulator of climate. An exposed situation is airy, breezy, or windy, according to the speed of utirial currents. It is often intensely cold, because the more rapidly a cold wind passes over any object, the quicker does it abstract it« 43H THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. heat. Shelter, or protection from exposui'e, is highly valued, altliough in sultry weather we may long for the breezy unsheltered down or mountain side. Shelter is among the few climatic conditions which may be con- trolled, and hence a great deal of attention is given to it by agricultinists. A sheltered situation for house or homestead •may be chosen, or trees muy be planted, which in time will give what nature has denied. There is also a larger sense in which the term shelter is applied, as when a range of mountains give shelter to a large district or fertile valley, con- ferring upon thousands of acres the advantages of an improved climate. A good example of this is seen in the gi'azings undei- the shelter of the Rocky Mountains. Charactek of the Sou. is one more factor in the sum total of condi- tions which control climate. Any one may notice that the fog on an au- tumn evening hangs over a clay bed just as it hangs over a rock in n)i(l- ocean. The cohl nature of the clay ground first condenses the atmospheric vapour into a visible form. Delicate animals such as turkeys cannot he reared \ipon clay land, and clay land districts are injurious to persons attiicted with weak lungs. On the other hand, a dry soil admitting of free drainage gives a warmer and dryei", and, in a word, a more wholesome at- mosphere. It is by modifying the character of land that drainage is considered to be a positive improver of climate. Artiticial drainage causes water to quickly disappear beyond the influence of evaporation, and gives those ad- vantages to a clay soil which are originally enjoyed only by those that are naturally drained. Influence of Climate upon the Productive Powers of the Soil.— The importance of climate upon the fertility of soils can scarcely be over- rated. It is seen not only in the ditt'erent amount and character of the products of tropical and temperate countries, but also in the varying yieKl of our fields from year to year. A few facts bearing upon the.se [)oints may perhaps be here introduced with advantage. It is an ascertained fact that the period required to mature any crop varies with the climate. Wheat requires 100 days to ripen near Paris, 182 days in Scotland, and only 85 days at Guelph, in Canada. So com- pletely does the period of growth and maturation depend upon the totfil amount of heat a crop receives, that the mean temperature of a wheat- growing country (taken during the period of growth) multiplied by tiio number of days required to perfect the crop, gives approximately the same numerical result. In other words, the total amount of heat required to perfect a crop of wheat is approximately the same. THE FARM AND METEOROLOGY. 439 lihougli in I' mountain nay be con- ricultvirists. )r trees may ied.as when valley, con- )vcd climate. belter of the tal of coi\(li- og on an au- vock in mi'l- e atmospheric ■ys cannot be )us to persons mittingoffree wholesome at- considered to iuses water to Uves those ad- those that are It will be seen, therefore, that in cooler countries, like Scotland, a larger amount of heat is required to mature the crop than in countries where the sun is more powerful. In Egypt, on the banks of the Nile, with a mean temperature of 70" F., barley recjuires only 90 days ; and in South Amer- ica corn comes to maturity in U'2 days, with a mean temperature of 81'5° F. Examples might be multiplied, but it is unnecessary to do so, since those already given will sufhciently show that the productive power of the earth may be doubled by the ([uickening energy of powerful heat, for two crops in one season become a possibility. Although in a less degree, many important differences in the kind, quan- tity, and quality of our own farm produce spring from the same cause, Altitude is often equivalent to latitude in its ctt'ect upon climate. If oC F. may be taken as the mean temperature of a good vegetating season in biitain, say from 1st April to 30th September, an elevation of 590 feet will be equivalent to the loss of V on an average. Such situations are exposed to a greater range of temperature than lower and more sheltered places, owing to unchecked radiation during the night, and the conse- quence is an eleuient of uncertainty, which from time to time involves the loss of a crop. The following facts relating to the effect of climate upon pruiluce may serve to illusti'ate this point further : English-grown wheat is inferior in quality to that from the south-east, Europe, and hot countries in general — such as the American continent. It has been found that Indian sorts of wheat are relatively cheaper, com- pared with other qualities, and accordingly they have grown in demand. F THE Soil.— vcely bo over- laracter of the varying yie^l Ln these points Lure any crop [en near Paris Ida. So com- fipon the total of a whcat- Itiplied by tbe lately the same [at required to ^hc €ultibation of ^rcc$ a5 affecting the J[arm. HE general importance of this subject, and its special an- plicatioii to Canada, is necessarily our first consideration, and it is one that has been ably handled by evidence be- fore the recent Agricultural Commission, and other sources. The great points of trees or no trees, of retained moisture or rapid evaporation, of irregularly or regularly distributed rain fall, of unchecked storms or amelioration, of more or less temperate temperatures, and of the secondar}- Imt ^ telling ones of ornament and cropping revenue — all go to make up a chapter of keen interest in our yet but short history as a nation. Were evidence needed either to convince or stimulate us to action, the fact of what is being done in the conservation and replanting of forests in other countries should awaken both our pride and deep interest, as such lessons are plentiful in India, Australia, nnd the neighbouring Republic. There, Forestry is a profession and a Governmental department, .system- atically conducted by able officers, who are liberally supplied, first, in the item of experiments, and then in the establishment of extensive re-clotli- ing of lands chosen by virtue of judgment based upon these and other known facts acquired by experience, or as shown by Nature herself. When we desire to bring this matter right home to the farmer and his son here, the story takes seven distinct heads : 1. Shelter for crops. 2. Shelter for tjrazing animals. 3. Shelter for dwellings. 4. Regulation of temperature. 5. Regulation of rainfall. G. Ornamental purposes ; and 7. As a cropping investment. THE CULTIVATION OF TREES AS AFFECTING THE FARM. 441 The area and value of the forest lands of Canada are still of great mag- nitude ; — indeed, of such inagnit\id'j that all the reliable information we possess from the brief notes of surveys stands as evidence of our ignor- ance of its variety, wealth, and extent, because any survey parUikes so much of the character of straight-line testing that whole blocks of hund- reds of acres of many kinds of our best timber lie untouched and un- known — at least to Government. It is surely within the scope of a reiusonable outlay, and not many years' work, that the country should hold one map showing the principal tree crops on every surveyed lot, as well as on every outlined township, district, and limit. While wo know intuitively that we are wealthier than we appear to be, it will give us no better standing in tlie world's inarket to make a story about it without actual inspection. Besides, when wo talk .scientifically, as we must do, in respect of forest intluences upon manj' things ere practice goes afoot, it is most material to be thoroughly familiar with the existing condition of our forests as regards first, second, or any subseijuent natural growths, and how far they are likely to subserve the ends in view. The recpiisite [)ruportion of tree surface to that under agriculture, is another of the studies yet little understood by scientists, and cannot, to to .speak, be handled practically with any precise measure of reason, until furtiier experiments point to safe data ; but, from the extreme of over- clearing on the one hand, to that of too much forest on the other, there is safe ground for no delay on the pai"t of any Government. Of course this would bring up the allied point of what parts of the country should be conserved and what parts replanted, subject to the regulation of appropri- ate positions and adaptability of soil and climate in each particular ex- ample. It should be one of the particular duties of the Professor of Arboricul- ture to educate in regard to the susceptibility of certain kiuils and forms of trees for special purpo.ses — whether for field clumps, .shelter belts, road- side shade, neighbourhood of dwellings, or for more extensive planting — in addition to the management of them in all their detail from the seed- betl, transplanting in the nurseiy, preparation of land for planting, their annual maintenance, thinnings and their value, enemies to and diseases thereof, to the grazing of replanted lands, and the ultimate realization of the matured crop. Thus .should we be in a position to advise our Legislatures on the great national problem of the special and general conversation and replanting, hy which it would be shown that enclosing, draining, regulation of fire.«, annual trespass, and supervision stood as items of public expenditure of 442 THK HOMK, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.I^.DIA. ' i '; 'i' the first cla.s.s, so that one of the first of their (hities is the ostablislimeiit of Forest Departments, and the appointment and duties of a Conservator of Forests for each Province. But it is not with Canada alone that arboriculture has to deal in tho future, tho whole of this vast continent is concerned — how much no one at present will ever realize, nnd that is what strikes at the n)ot of man's indirterence on the Hul»ject, that is, that he cannot himself personally liopc to receive al! tlie benefits from tho conservation of the present trees, and particularly from replanting. American returns must be smart, strong and undoubled ; the idea of permanency in tho long after years does not con- cern us so much as iiim' ; we are fond enough of speculating upon causf and ert'ect, and, in this matter, delight in big talk, that indeed does not lack for as much soundness as Europe can produce, but it is talk laigely only. Let us add to this phase of our life by submitting some other thoughts on such an important subject, with the hope that we are not far oft' i'roni acting up to what is preached. : The General Importance of Forestry in North America. It is the experience of the world that more difficulty, in all its forms is found in reclothing with trees where trees grew before, than it is to plant — not replant — a counby for the fiist time. There is not only the practical fact of .succession of cropping in its scientific and natural bear- ings as similarly realized, for example, in tho products of the farm, but the more serious one of the indifference of its population. It is just a piece of human nature everywhere, that what has been felt as comuiou and every body's property, is no one's particular business when remedies are asked for in the exigencies of public affairs. By Forestry is meant the whole science and practice of arboriculture ; the conserving, the care-taking, preservation and proper management of existing trees, and the replanting of land for purposes now to be discussed. Speaking generally we are, and we are not, deeply concerned, as a nation, in the moi'e modern views of forestry. In Europe it takes a shape that may never be realized here, because of one thing. — that one thing is large proprietory, the possessing within one man's power all the area and class of soil suitable to profitable production on a large scale, so that even that one man can employ officers and men in such numbers as to make profits certain. Cultivated America meantime is so subdivided as to etfectually preclude all idea of sufficient massing of woods to receive equal results with Europe — but the day may come. Though not thus situated for THK (^L'liTIVATION Or TKKHS AS AFKKCTIXCJ TMK KAUM. 44.:i forest culture, wc are otherwise oblijj^ed to give it a place in our rural economy. It is OHpecially applicable to any country that has been a forest by nature, where in some things nature has been unthinkingly trampled upon, and where agricultural progress now demands the aid of her sister science — arboriculture. Wo are not singular in these matters, and can sympathise with What i.s hkino noNi: in ti^e Conskuvation and Jliii'LAXTiNa of FoilEST.; IN OTIIEU CoUNTUIES. There is no country whatever that has made its agricultural history ano,,Id bo a ecrosponding diver 1 . '^""'"■oJation, there "out. But before expl,tininnif " ""= ^'^<= ""J arr,>„„e- ■"ff t to eonstruotion, t r„:ee ?'°""'"' "*' ■''"'' "PPly- vo.'t.gati„„ to aseortain the 'T''; "" " P''^«m".ary i^- Oo. pu,per .vi^c which thc\uihi; . ""'' constitute ^^^"Py- buildings of the farm .shoul .a quadrangle h " t, '' .''''''''■"•°'- P'-'''=ti™bIo tL ' :'"'"'■ centre iJr,,,. •» ■ , Pioper s Ue for H,„ i ■, ■ '""centre of J„cteV "' " " '"'"-■' that a farm JJt m^' '>'" ""'" «•»"■ '^^ «r:;rf 7-- r;; ; :S-/omma„d of ..ter. »»"-»: "pit':/"" "' «-'■ -'-t'.e. the r ve, is e" 'T' ^"' " " ■f " ""ords a Tuffilt " '"^ • '»" «■ t'-e water be Ifi ° """ '""■'' 450 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.-EDIA. a greater. Should the buildings bo placed, in consequence, at the extreme angle of the farm, such a sacrifice would be made. We know several which are thus inconveniently placed, for the sake of a good road an)f the Helds of the farm, and also bo near the barns; and if any sacrifice of position on the part of either is necessary, the house should give way to the other. Having thus pointed out the best position for the buildings to occupy on a farm, our next endeavour shall be to hiy down the general principle which sliouhl guide in the construction for eviry variety of husbandry. Straw and roots being the most bulky articles in the buildings, and in great and daily use by all the stock, and having, though heavy and un- wieldly, to be distributed in every apartment by manual labour, it should, of necessity, be placed centrically, and at the shortest distance from the stock. Bearing the relations of these particulars in mind, it is obvious that they constitute the principle upon which the construction of farm Ijuildings should bo based ; and as the centre is the nearest point to the tircumference it is also obvious that the original receptacle for the straw and roots should occupy the central point of the steading. There can be no exception to this rule for every variety of farming where straw and roots are in use. Every apartment occupied by stock should thus encir- cle the barn and celhirs. Different classes and ages of stock require dif- ferent quantities and kinds of food, so that those which require the most shoidd be placed nearest the barn ; and in all cases straw should be car- ried short distances, and not at all from any other apartment than direct from the straw-barn. We shall now endeavour to illustrate this principle in its application to Jill classes of farm buildings. Cattle fattening, whether in boxes or stables, requiring most food, should be placed nearest the straw daarn and cellar. Younger cattle, being lightei", require less food, and should be placed either at a greater distance from the straw-barn and cellar than the fattening cattle, or at the same distance on the other side of it. Horses and cows requiring the least straw, may be placed at the greatest distance from the straw. The leading principle involved in the above arrangement is comprehen- sive and simple, and is obviously applicable to every size and kind of barn. But indisputably correct a,s the principle is, it is very seldom adopted in practice ; and we may safely assert that, the greater the deviation from it, the less commodious are the buildings as habitations for stock in winter. 452 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. After all then that has been saiJ, illustrated, acted upon, and written about farm buildings, there is but one way of putting them together, only one method of arrangement, and there cannot possibly bo any other. I do not care what the kind of fanning is — whether grazing, dairy, or mixed, or in what part of the world it is followed — there is but one prin- ciple to guide all. Take a case, applicable to us as Canadians, so that our exj)lanations may be more easily understood. The first idc-a is : Centralization. — There is more expen.se, more labour, more waste, and greater risks in isolated buildings than in having them together. The ri.sk of less damage by fire, M'hen tire does occur, with separate binldiii;^;^ is true, but the contingency is too remote, or at least should l»e made .so, and cannot outweigh the others named. One Covcrlnfj. — Following in strict agreement with centralization, we must have one covering for everything — nothing whatever excepted— not even the manure ; indeed, the manure in preference to some other things needs it more. Everything under one cover adds to comfort and econo- mizes labour, lessens weather influences — cooler in summer, and warnuM- in winter, and ensures a profitable collection and distribution of rain- water. Storing of Food. — The true principle of storing is to store, not to scat- ter ; in this there is true economy of labour, economy of buildings, Jes* waste, and particularly the being able to arrange the various animals around that food according to their requirements. Who would place a sheep nearer the store than an ox, so as to secure what we have indicated '' As the fattening steer needs more weight and variety of food than any other of our domesticated animals, why place him away from the lOots, grain, fodder, bedding, and manure pile ? Food Classification of animals. — Those eating most, such as fattening cattle, and store cattle, and so making most manure, to be nearest the food, and nearest the manure pile, so as to save labour, and those requir- ing most light and air ; so also Working Classification of animals. — To be nearest the work, nearest the implements, and most " handy " for men, horses especially should be, so to speak, outside. Health Arrangement. — Ventilation and light in individual sections, by overhead and windows, ventilation and light by two great roads crossing in centre ; an hospital for sick animals neither warm nor cold, nor with too much nor too little light, and drainage from all parts centering in tank in the neighbourhood of manure. THE BUILDINGS OF THE FAUM. 453 nd written 1 together, any other. , dairy, or it one iirin- xplanations i waste, ami fcther. The ite bnihlin^s 1)0 niiulo so. ■alization, we xcepted— not ! other things ,rt and econo- •, and waniun ition of vau\- Prcparatlon of Food. — Oontralizeil as it is, with all the green fodder on a level with animals and all the dry fodder — hay and straw — in the barn overheaes of dense soils are more minute than those of light or open land, and will therefore require to have increased head pressure to promote the free circulation of water, the theo- retical reason comes out, how it is that drains require to be deeper in clayey ground than in any other kind of soil. We often meet with practical farmers who assert that, if four-feet drains are adopted on heavy soils, the rain water falling upon the surface will fail to reach them. They suppose that most clays are so impervious that water cannot percolate through a stratum four feet thick. Now, 1 admit at once, that there are clays to be found, which arc so plastic and so < len.se when trodden upon or pressed in any way, that even an inch in tiucknoss will hold a pool of water for a considerable time. I have seen a '[uantity of water standing in a clay furrow for weeks together, with an e.xcellont pipe-tile drain underneath, having only six inches of cover. Not a drop found its way into the drain from the pool above ; and, had there been a layer of clay but two inches thick, I believe the result would have been the same. What inference, then, are we to draw from this fact ? Are we to argue that drains six inches deep are not shallow enough to permit the free percolation or water from the surface of dense clays ? If six-inch drains are too deep in seme cases, what other depth can we make them, to insure their efiiciency ? We see at once, therefore, that, if 4G4 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. we object to deep drains in clays, simply because the water will not get down to them ; the objection applies eqally to shallow drainage. There can be no mscessity for denying the fact, that neither shallow nor deep draifts will work well at the first in strong clays, if the surface has been much wrought upon ; and that even in any case, deep drains will not become effective quite so soon as shallow drains will. The pores an^l interstices of the soil which have hitherto been tilled with stagnant water must be emptied, and the land acted upon both by fi-osts and drought, ere the percolation is fairly begun. There are many cases in which the deep drainei', applying his principles to the dense clays, is disappointed to finij the drainage less complete for a time than he had been led to expect. He is consequently sorely tempted, at times, to come to the conclusion, that deep drains will not work in the clays at all ; and he is, therefore, inclinc'l to revert to the shallow draining sy.stem. Now, there arc several causes why deep drains fail at first to lay clay soils quite so diy as they ought to be. Perhaps they have been put in at a wet time of the .season, and the material filled in above the pipes being little else than mud, it m If we put in ir couie to the \\o reason why, lip is seen half t land usually [y those which feet 8 inches •hes shallower lie surface soil ■en grown, hut |n. There may, [liat lime, and |to sink when •onversely. vre may find that drain pipes filled with air, being lighter than soil, will have a tendency to rise towards the surface. Whatever the cause may be, the fact requires no proof, that after ten or twelve years, drains are found to be G or 7 inches shallower than when they were formed. And as drain- a!7c is generally intendeoing a good declivity on the surface. This is more particularly necessary in the formation of the outfalls. In very flat ground, it is sometimes a most difficult matter to i^et sufficient declivity to insure a self-cleansing action. As the usefulness of most drainage works depends very largely on the proper formation of the discharging outlets, no reasonable amount of expense should be .spareil in making the.se a.s complete as possible. If they ai-e to be open, the sides of the cutting should be formed at an angle of 4o' ; and if the material is very liable to slip, an angle of 40", or even less, will be sufficiently steep. All the excavated soil sliould be thrown well back from the edges, as it will have a tendency, if left too near, to make the sides give way. When the cutting is too deep to be left open. horse-shoe tiles, or circular pipes of large calibre, should be laid in it. It is rarely advisable to lay several open tiles abreast or atop, as the sides obstruct the water, and silt is deposited, with considerable injury to the drain. To save a little expense many drainers commit the serious mistake of not going far enotigh down the fall to secure a deep and effijctivo outlet; and others put in pipes that are mucli too small for the work they have to perform. It requires some skill to arrange the main drains in a field, so as to catch every hollow in it, without adding considerably to the cost ; and it also needs much care to keep the levels properly, in cutting the drains. When the main drains are very long, they should have overflow branches at various points. Suppose, for example, a drain four feet deep runs par- allel with an open ditch which is fully three feet in depth, then it is obvi- ous that, if a few branches be carried into the latter, the pressure on the main during great floods, supposing it incapable of venting the water, will never be more than from a foot to a foot and a half. This can only be done, of course, when there is an open ditch, into which the overflow branches may be carried. At important junctions, and in places where there are sharp curves, there should also be sediment wells in the main drains, each THF<: DRAINAGE OF THE FARM. 467 ily possible •vdinary sur- tlic carrying; wii the wain s be. used, if jUvity on the vation of i^^ matter to get , vise fulness of •mation of the d be spared in be open, the = ; and if the ven le««. ^'■'^' ,0 thrown well pft too near, to to be left open. ,e laid in it. ^^ ^op, as the siile> ^c injury to the Iserious mistake leffective outlet; ^vork they have . field, so as to [be cost ; and it lin^ the drains, lerflow branches , deep vuns pav- , then it is 0^^;- pressure on the ^the^vater,^val ^nonlyhcJo^^' l-erfloNV branches Vhere there are Lain drains, each covered by a stone [daced far enough below the surface to be out of reach (if the plougii. All important discharging vents should be provided with stone or cast-iron ends, and light gratings or a wooden box, in districts subject to extreme frosts, the ordinary tile being liable to crumble away. Each outlet should be numbered and registered in the regular ilralnage book of the farm. How often do we see the mouths of main drains laid into open, imperfectly cleaned ditches and no means being taken to mark their positions, they are .soon overgrown, and, perhaps, stop- ped u]) altogether. If the main drain discharges itself into an open ditch, there oiight to be a drop of from nine to twelve inches ; and, in every ca.se where it is po.ssible to obtain it, the main .should be four to six inches deeper than the side drains. The latter ought to join the former, not exactly at right angles, but with a slight turn in the direction of the fall. And the workman who lays the pipes, should be most careful to cut a large enough opening in the main to vent all the water discharged by each side-drain, and then to pack the joint all round with stone chips. LATERAL, SIDE, OR FURROW DRAINS. In laying out the side drains, in lands which can only be dried by the parallel system of drainage, there are certain general rules which require to be observed. If the ground is lying in narrow, round-backed ridges, it may save considerable cutting to put a drain into each furrow. But, in many cases, there will be no saving cflected, in the aggregate, by adopting this plan. More pipes will be required to drain an acre, than would be necessary with the drains placed at regular intervals ; and hence the amount saved on the cutting is lost on the material. It is the duty of the person who gives advice in regard to the operations, to estimate the com- parative cost, under each system ; and, keeping both cheapness and elh- ciency in view, he ought to act according to the best of his judgment. In general, it will be found advisable to pay very little attention to the old furrows. Let the drains be laid off at regular intervals, to suit the nature uf the soil, and carried through either ridges or f urrow.s, as they may come in the way. The fact ought always to be kept in view, however, that, with thi.s niode of draining, it is necessary subsequently to combine a levelling process of the soil. Rain-water should not be allowed to run along the surface of the ground, and descend immediately above the pipes. Where- ever it falls, thore it ought to descend, and then find its way laterally to the draiu channel on either side. On well-drained land, there ought to bo 468 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. no liigh ridges, with deep, open furrows between. The surface should bo nearly level. Though, in one respect, it is a matter of very little impor- tance whether draii\-lines arc sti-aight or crook ?t, in anotlier light, it i.s advisable that they should bo as free as po.«f: . from bends. When a a plan of the drains is kept, — and on every well-managed farm, the drains will bo accurately mapped — it is a very simple matter to find out any part of a straight drain that may have gone wrong, by merely ruimirifj a line between any two points of it. Now, in a crooked or badly laid out drain, this is not so easily done ; and, as it does not ad Ihc JEiihing of Jfann-uavb JHauure. FARM-YARD manure not only is unrivalled in composition. but its value is enhanced by its action on the soil during its decay. No other manure exerts such a powerful chemi- cal and mechanical effect, and no other can be applied to all sorts of land with such positive certainty of effect. It j^ , . is also found to be particularly durable in its effects, and i(^\ these merits are quite sufficient to account for the high estimation in which dung is held by the farmer. General and Special Manures. — The terms " general " and " special " are applied to manures according to the degree in which they are capable of thoroughly keeping up the fertility of land. A field from which the constituents of wheat, wool, bone, and milk, are being perpetually drained, can only be kept up in condition by the return of these in some other form. Any substance which can repair the entire loss is entitled to be called a general manure, just as milk, which is well known to repair all waste, and at the same time supply all the necessary materials for building up the animal body, is spoken of as a " general food." The best type of a general manure is rich farmyard dung. Such dung consists, first, of the excrements and urine of animals fed liberally upon roots, hay, and probably corn and cake. These voidings are rich in all the ash-constituents of j^lants as well as nitrogen. In addition, there is straw in abundance, so that well mixed and made farmyard manure, contains all the elements of both grain and straw, and is therefore well calculated to give back to a field what it has lost in the ordinary course of husbandry. 474 THF HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Chemical study furthei- confirms this view, and shows that this popular manure stands forward prominently as a true "general manure." These remarks sufficiently show the importance of farmyard manure. It is, however, well known to all practical men, that under the term dung, or farmyard manure, much comparatively worthless material may Iw included. The quality of dung depends upon a considerable number of circumstances, which mav be thus enumerated : 1. Upon the species of animal producing it. 2. Upon the age and condition of the animal. 3. Upon the food of the animal. 4. Upon the accommodation of the animal. 5. Upon the amount and cjuality of the litter supplied. G. Upon the management during its accumulation. 7. Upon its after-treatment. The domestic animals which furnish the farmer with the most valuable portion of his manure-heap are cattle, horses, and pigs, and in rarer cases sheep. The dung of cattle forms the staple. It is generally of a somewhat thin and watery consistency, and is consequently not likely to heat rap- idly, even when massed together. The cool character of cow dung is illustrated by the fact that grooms employ it to stuff their horses' feet at night for the purpose of keeping them cool and moist. Horse dung is voided in a drier state, and is therefore much hotter in its character. Horse dung is chosen by gardeners to make their hot-beds, and to place under forcing frames. If heaped together in large quantities, it is liablt' to a form of dry-rot or " fire-fang," which is readily detected by a white dust that soon encrusts the straws, and causes dryness and lightness throughout the mass. Pig dung is cool in its nature, like that of cattle. Owing to these differences of nature, it is desirable that dung should he well mixed together, and this has an important bearing upon the design- ing of farm-buildings. Age and Condition of thk km^iXh.—Adult animals allow a larger proportion of nutritive food-constituents to pass through the alimentary canal than young and growing animals. Phosphates are reserved for the formation of bone, nitrogen and salts for the development of muscle and blood, in the case of young animals ; whereas, in mature bodies, the pro- cesses of decay and elimination keep pace with tho.se of nutrition. Lean animals absorb more nutritive matter from the food supplied than those which are fat or forward in condition. Hence the dung of fatting bullocks THE MAKING OF FARM-YAllD MANURE. 475 becomes richer as thoy ri[)on. Coius in calf and in milk are in the same condition, with reference to the food consumed, as growing cattle, for they have not only to feed &f(ntiis, but in most cases to yield a supply of milk. Food of the Animal. — Beasts fed upon straw, or straw and turnips, furnish an inferior manure altogether to cattle receiving grain and c^ke. This difference is recognised by practical farmers everywhere. The difference in value between the excrementitious residue of a ton of stiavv, a ton of turnips, of barley meal, of linseed-cake, and a variety of other substances employed as cattle foods, has been estimated by Sir J. B. Lawes, and reduced to a money standard. It is not necessary that these figures should be accepted as precisely fixing the commercial value of the manurial residue left by the consumption of the various foods mentioned. The figures are based upon chemical data, but in each case will require to be discounted rather heavily to compensate for the inevitable, as well a.s preventible, waste that always occurs. Estimated Value of the Manure obtained by the Consumption of One Ton of difkkrent articles of food, each supposed to be good quality of its kind. 1. Cotton aeed-cake, decorticated £0 10 2. Rape-cal i 4 18 G 3. Linseed-cake 4 12 6 4. Cotton-seed cake, not decorticated 3 18 6 5. Beans 3 14 «. Linseed 3 13 7. Peas 3 2 6 8. Indian meal 1 II 0. Locust-beans 1 2 6 10. Mait-dnst 4 5 6 11. Bran and pollards 2 18 12. Oats 116 13. Wheat I 13 14. Malt 1 II 6 15. Barley I 10 10. Clover-hay 2 5 6 17. Meadow-hay .. 1 10 6 18. Bean-straw 10 6 19. Pea-straw 18 9 20. Oat-straw 13 6 21. Wheat-straw 12 6 22. Barley-straw 10 23. Potatoes 7 24. ]Mangel-wur7,el 5 3 25. Swedish turnips 4 3 26. Common turnips and carrots 4 476 THE HOME, F^VllM AND LUilNESS CYCLOP.EOIA. Accommodation of Animal. — In ordinary practice live stock are housed either in, (1) stalls or stables, (2) yards more or less covered, or (.S) boxes. Apart from those considerations referring to the comfort and health of the animals, the effect of each of these modes of housing upon the (juality of the manure is very considerable. Stalls or stables involve tying up the animals, and as this prevents fret- movement, the dung is all dropped in one place, and is very imperfectly mixed with the straw. These stalls are daily cleaned, and the dung and litter should be removed and spread over an open or covered yard, to be more completely trodden down or made. Where straw is scarce or com- mands a high price, the system of tying up in stables is in favour, as it is economical of litter. Boxes are highly favourable to the production of first-class manure. In the first place, they are invariably covered with a roof, which protects the dung from rain. All the moisture contained in box-made dung is therefore derived from the animal, and in consequence a less amount of straw is required than in the case of open yai'ds. Boxes a^re generally devoted to fatting cattle living upon a highly nutritious diet, so that, apart from the protection they attbrd from rain, this constitutes another substantial rea- son why box-manure has obtained a high reputation. Yards. — Of late years covered yards have been advocated, and where these have been erected, the conditions are identical with those of boxes. More commonly the yard is furnished with a shed, but is for the most part open to the sky. As cattle are only hou.sed in winter, the season in which the greatest amount of rain or snow ftills, open yards receive a large (quantity of surplus water ; and especially when the sheds are not spouted or troughed, the manure becomes much wasted, and the quantity of litter required to keep the cattle comfortable is greatly increased. These con- tlitions are not at all favourable to the accumulation of really good dung, and the sj'stem cannot be continued profitably when large sums are being expended upon feeding stutts. At the same time, it is claimed as an advantage by those who aairs the quality of the manure. On the other hand, fold-yards kept in a spongy, mir}- condition favour the THE MAKING OF FARM-YARD MANURE. 477 I stock are i covered, or comfort and vug upon the jrevents free r imperfectly ,he (lung and 1 yard, to be jarce or com- i,vour, as it is J manure. In h protects the ifT is therefore it of straw is vUy devoted to ^part from the ubstantial rea- ped, and where ,hose of boxes. Is for the most I, the season in receive a hargx^ ire not spoutel lantity of Utter jd. Tlicse con- Uy good dung, Isunis are beini; Iclaimed as an lat they enable Ire. Ill certain ivn advantage. ion has ah-eady L so that the Inducive to the Lf the HKvnure. Ition favour the escape of valuable materials hy surface drainage and evaporation. Many cfood farmers endeavour to take ^ middle course, by allowing their courts to become miry, or the black liijuid to be seen once or twice a week, before fresh straw is added. Another point of importance is the thorough mixing of the various sorts of dung. Buildings, as already mentioned, should be contrived with a special view to this end. Stables and stalls .should open into, or be placed opposite, the gates of fold-yards, that the half-made manure may be spread abroad and thoroughly mixed. On no account slmuld horse dung be allowed to accunmlate in masses by itself. PigsticR should b>^ so placed that the swine may have access to the yards, where they will not only act as scavengers, but root up and mix the manure Pains should be taken to litter the yards evenly, and wlien necessary, to level the surface. Lastly, the more the yards arc proteeted from rain and .snow, the better will be the quality of the manure produced. Afteii-treatment.— Passing over the management of dung during its accumulation, as already sulHoiently indicated, we come to the after- treatment, which must be allowed to exert an important influence upon its efficacy. The tendency of late years has been in the direction of sim{>lify- ing the processes by which dung was formerly prepared for application. In the opinion of many leading agriculturists, the best plan is to haul direct I'rom the yard or box, spread the dung on the land, and plough it in. The limits within whicli this method may be recommended are, during the autumn or early winter, when " long " or " green " dung may be safely ploughed in ; upon stitf and deep land, that are capable of retaining the valuable matters contained in the manure, and are also pliy.sieally improved by the decay of the straw and other oi'ganic matter. On the other hand, it is not advisable to plough in manure in the autumn, when ly so doing it is brought into close proximity with rock, gravel, or coarse sand. When yard manure is applied in the spring it should be well rotted, so as to be at once available for the use of the crop, and to avoid drying the .soil and rendering it hollow. (.'IIANGES ACCOMPANVING TilE RoTTING OF FARMYARD MANURE. — These changes have been carefully noted by Voelcker. They consist (1) in loss of weight, which amounts to from one-third to one-half, and even two- thirds of the entire mass of fresli manure, according to the degi-ee to which the processes of decay are allowed to proceed ; (2) the quantity of valuable matters existing in a soluble state are materially increased ; (3) the pro- portion of nitrogen, and other of the most valuable constituents, is in- crea.sed. The following analysis of fresh, long manure, composed of cow and pig dung, and of well-rotted dung that had been kept in the heap 478 THE HvJME, farm AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.EDIA. for six months, will show at once the composition of farmyard manure and the nature of the changes induced by fermentation : — TaULK SllOWISd THE COMPOSITION OF FaKMYAKIJ MaNUUK. ( 'ow anil Pig Manure Ion},' or fresh. Water Soluble organic matters, ^ . . . Soluble inorganic matters — Silica 0.237' Phosphate of lime 0. 2!)!) Lime O.OGO Magnesia 0.011 Potash 0.573 Soda 0.051 Chloride of sodium 0.030 Sulphuric acid 0.055 Carbonic acid, and loss 0.218 0G.17 2.48 Wcll-ru.ltcTi Dung. six months in huai). 75.42 3.71 0.254 0.382 0.117 0.047 0.44(i 0.02.3 0.037 0.058 0.1 or. 1.54 1.47 Insoluble organic matters, '^ . . 25.70 12,82 Insoluble inorganic matters — Soluble silica 0. 907 1 .424 Insoluble silica 0.5G1 1.010 Oxide of iron, alumina, and phosphates 0. 500 0. 947 Containing phosphoric acid. (0. 178) (0. 274) Equal to bone earth (0.38G) (0. 573) Lime 1.120 1.GG7 Magnesia 0. 143 0.091 Potash 0.099 0.045 Soda 0.019 0.038 Sulphuric acid O.OGl 0.0G3 Carbonic acid, and loss 0.484 1.295 4.05 G.5S 100.00 100. 00 ' Containing nitrogen 0.149 0.297 Equal to ammonia 0,181 0.3G0 - Containing nitrogen 0.494 0.309 Equal to ammonia 0.599 0.375 Total nitrogen 0.G43 0.00(5 Equal to ammonia 0.780 0.735 To PllODUCK THE BEST QUALITY OF FaRMYARO MaNURE.— Fiom what has been advanced, it may be concluded that the best quality of farmyard dung is made under cover, by fattening cattle fed upon a liberal diet, in which oil-cakes form an important item. Further, that the thorough THK MAKING OF FARM-YAllD MANURK. 47t> mixing of the various kind.s of dung is mo.st mlvisablo ; and if made into lioaps and turned, tliat every means should be used to prevent the escape of nitrogen, Mana(JKMHNT ok Kaumyaud Manuuk. — Air and moisture arc both es- sential to the proper fermentation of manure. If it is too dry, it burns, ;rot.s " fire-fanged," white and mildewed ; and the higli temperature of the manure promotes the formation of carbonate of ammonia, whicli is volatile and easily escapes into tlie air. This occurs when the temperature exceeds eighty degrees F. l^ut when the manure is kept UKMst and the tempera- ture low, fermentation stops with the foiniation of organic acids which take up ammonia. The salts thus formed are present in the black decom- posed dung, and the annnonia in them is in a solulde form, l)ut not vola- tile. A strong smell arising from the manure makes it evident that a wastefid fermentation is going on, but this fernu'ntation is easily con- trolled. A fpiick fermentation will be induced by })laeing the manure lightly in heaps .so as to allow the air to get at it ; a slower fermentation, liy treading the manure down firmly, and a (mwI fermentation by keeping the heaj) mor covering it, is of less consecjuence than has generally been imagined ; iMit on light soils the practice of inunediate ploughing under is advisable. Ihc ,§pecial Jfcrtili^cv0 of tlu Jfann. ►♦•- HAT special manures are, generally speaking, has already been explained. They contain one, two, or more valu- able constituents of ))lant food, but are not sufficiently complex in composition to keep up the fertility of soils. They must, however, be regarded as highly use- ful under the following circumstances : (1) When a soil is deficient in some particular element of fertility, as lime, magriesia, or [)hosphates ; (2) When a crop has some particular requirement ; (3) When soils are in hiirh condition, and it is undesirable to stock them further with artificial fertility, special manures may be employed to bring out, and possibly to reduce ^heir surplus wealth, by stimulating the growth of heavy crops. Uses and Abuses of Special Manures. — The first two cases in which special rianures have just been recommended need not detain us further. But the third case, in which special manures are employed as a " whip, " requires a little explanation. If nitrate of soda is applied to a wheat crop, the usual eflfect is a con- siderable increase in the yield both of straw and grain. Since nitrate of soda contains only one important constituent of plant food — nitrogen; and since the increased yield of wheat, owing to the application, removes from the soil a certain propoition of earthy matter as well as nitrogen, it is evident that the soil has been drawn upon to a greater extent than it would have been without the application. In this case, then, the nitrate of .soda has actually reduced the stock of wheat ingredients in the soil. A soil thus treated year after year would be sooner exhausted than one cul- tivated without the aid of a manure of this class. This being the case, it is of importance to farmers to know how ftir the application of nitrate of soda is to be recommended. If nitrate of soda were employed alone, and year after year, no doubt the land would suffer, although many years might elapse before the evil eflects became apparent. It certainly would not improve. If, as is usually the case, the farmer who employs the nitrate is in the habit of ap[)lying other fertilisers, such as " town manure," superphosphates, and lime, ana THE SPECIAL FERTILIZERS OF THE FARM. 481 favm. , haus already r more valu- t surticicntly , fertility of s higl^ly usc- ) When a soil ,f fertility, a^ ;en a crop has a soils are in witli artificial nd possibly to ^eavy crops. , cases in wliicli lain us further, as a " whip," effect is a con- Jince nitrate of Dod— nitrogen; Ration, removes as nitrogen, It I extent than it Ln, the nitrate Is in the soil. A |l than one cul- ling the case, it l,n of nitrate of lyear, no douU I before the evil [if, as is usually bit of appb'i"S and Vuno, ana also yearly consumos cake and <,Tain upon the farm, the use of nitrate of soda becomes reasonable and ri«.,'lit. The management is liberal and of nn improving character, and the nitrate of soda oidy brings out the artificial fertility which comes of good farming, and does hoc prey upon the natural fertility of the soil. The same remark would apply to the use of othei- special manures, such as lime. Repeated liming, according to the old pro- verb, " while it enriches the father, impovcri.shes the son." But lime ap- plied in conjunction with liberal management cannot be objected to on the score of exhausting the land. Possible Limit to the Profitable Use of any Manure. — As long as a .soil is deficient in a particular constituent, wo may expect to see benefit from its application. If the land becomes suthciently stocked with thin i-'onstituent, we may find a change of fertilisers desirable. If a soil con- tains a sufficient proj)ortion of phosphoric acid for the requirements of a wheat crop, and at the same time an excess of potash, we cannot expect a dressing of potash to be attended with any effect. A soil deficient in lime may be greatly benefited by an application of lime. But a second or third application of the same substance might produce but little efTect, simply because lime had ceased to be a deficient element. Up to the present time, potash (owing to its existing in considerable quantities in farmyard man- ure) has not been lacking in most of our soils. If, however, from the cul- tivation of the potato, the growth of wool, or the sale of straw, the amount of potash became reduced below the point required, then a demand for jtotash salts would immediately spring up. In the present treatise it wull be impossible to do justice to the large t'lass of materials employed as fertilisers, but our aim must be rather to indicate the principle of their action. In the last section some substances were included which could barely be considered as coming under the de- signation of general manures — guano, for example, often being deficient in potash. Siniilarl}', under the class of special manures certain fertiliser.s aiiproach in complexity the composition of a true general manure. Phosphates. — Calcium, potassium, sodium, and magne.sium phosphates iue all of interest to agriculturists ; but from our present point of view the first named is incomparably the most important. Calcium phosphate is found in great abundance in the bones of animals, and it is also widely distributed as mineral phosphate and phosphorite. It occurs in ver\' small quantities in all fertile soils, and it forms an important and abundant con- stituent of the asl of all our cultivated plants. In the cultivation of such j ordinary crops as wheat, barley, and oats, no constituent is more largely drawn upon except nitrogen, the supply of which is derived, in a great EE 482 THE HOME. FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. •HI «legrec, from the air. Thus, in tlic case of phospluites, we liave a small supply and a jfreat demand, and tliereforc, according to the latv of 7nini- oiium, the application of phosphates might be expected to be followed with c cellent results. Bones. — At the commencement of the present century pliosphates were applied as bones to pastuies and to turnips. They were at that time ground into incli or half-incli bones, and in tlic case of pasture land were sown at from 3,000 to 5,000 lbs per acre. The effects of this treatment in C'hcshire afford well-known instances of tlie good effects of bones, in the ca.se of Lord Combermere's estate, land was increased in annual value bv this means from 10s. to 30s., and from 15s. to 40s. per acre. As a conse- quence " boning" became one of the best recognised methods of improving,' pasture-land. The reason for these striking effects is not far to seek, for, as the con- stituents of bone had been constantly removed from these pastures for a long series of years, in the shape of milk and young stock, it is no wonder that they had become deficient in phosplxates. A bullock of 1,000 lbs. live weight, in store condition, contains about 50 lbs.. of mineral matter, according to results obtained on a large scale at Rothamsted, by Messrs. Lawes and Gilbert. This mineral matter, we may approximately state to have been collected from (at the most) two acretiof land in three years, or from one aci'o in aix years. This would be equal to the loss of ^g lbs. of mineral matter per acre per annum =8'3 lbs,, or to a loss of 332 lbs. in four years. On comparing this with the amount of mineral matter removed from tillagv^ fields during a similar jicrioJ, we find that, although decidedly le.ss, the quantity of ash ingredients removed by grass land is very considerable. If a wheat crop of 28 bushels, and a barley crop of 33 bushels per acre, be taken during four years, the straw being supposed to be returned to the land, the amount of ash inL,tedients removed will be about 78 lbs. Although the per-acre loss on pasture is probably less than one-half what it is on arable land, it must be romeia- bered that too frequently pastures are left unmanured, while tillage laud receives much indulgence. Thf'ie is an opinion abroad, which requires to be qualified, that grazing improves land, although all agree that repeated mowing acts injuriously. The marked effect of bones upon land long grazed, taken in connection with the figures just given, are a sufficient refutation to such erroueow views. The effect of bones upon pastures is by no means uniform ; and caution should be exercised before employing them on an extensive scale. Theu' ,'e a small ; cj m/ui- lowetl with phatcs wove , that tiuK' } laud wove [.reatnicnt in nes. ^11 *'^'-' iial value by As a couse- r, as the con- )astures for a ■ is no wonder ontains ahout L large scale at latter, wo may t)two acres of rould V,e etiual :8'3 lbs., ov 1th the aiuoiuit ilar period, "^^ rients removed Ibushels, and '^ >ars, the straw .sh in,;redieats on pasture IS jst be reniew- tle tillage laud Ll, that grazing ]ts injuriously. in connection luch erroneow XX ■ and caution e' scale. Tb"' THE SPECIAL FERTILIZERS OF THE FARM. 483 ai)plication is not always followed with a gi'cat increase of quantity ; but the quality of the herbage is invariably improved by the encouragement they give to the clovers and finer grasses. Besides calcium phosphate, raw bones contain calcium carbonate and azotysed carbonaceous matter (gelatine). The following analysis, by An- derson, fairly represents their composition : Water G20 Organic matter 39 13 Calcium phosphate 48'U5 Lime 2'o7 Magneaia 0-30 Sulphur teroxide 2'55 Silica 0-30 10000 Ammonia, whicli the organic matter is capa- ble of yielding 4'80 Bone-ash and animal charcoal containing from 70 to 80 per cent, of phosphates, and boiled bones from the soap-works, are largely employed in the manufacture of superphosphate. Bones wdiich have been deprived of their organic matter by boiling or burning are more suitable than raw bone.s for the home process of dissolv- ing with sulphuric acid. They dissolve rapidly and completely, while the organic nratter of raw bones carbonises and forms an imprenetrable enve- lope around each fragment, preventing the further action of the acid. The following plan is often pursued iiy agriculturists in the home T)rocess of dissolving bones : A ring of ashes is made on the ground of sufficient di- mensions. The bone asli, or crushed bones, arc then placed in the enclosed area, and moistened with a sixth or fourth of their weight of hot water. From a third to a half of their weight of sulphuric acid of specific gravity, 1'7, is then poured over them, and the mass is moved with rakes until the effervescence ceases. It is then allowed to stand for a few days, and if not dry enough, peat, sawdust, or any substance free from lime may be added to dry it. This process is employed by some farmers, who prefer to buy genuine bones undissolved, that they may know what they are using. Of late years, however, the difi'usion of chemical knowledge has given an excellent safeguard from deception, in analysis. It will also be found that home-made superphosphate is less finely divided, and inferior 'n condition for drilling than that made in factories. 484 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Ground or Mineral Phosphate — Its value as a fertilizer is derived from the phosphate of lime of which the mineral is partly composed. Coprolites, as to seventy to eighty per cent, of their substance, are a mixed phosphate and carbonate of lime. Athough there seems to be considerable difference in the results obtained by different experiments, the general conclusion seems to be that tlie usual difference in the eflfects produced by soluble and insoluble phosphates is much diminished when the latter are reduced to very fine powder and applied in very large quantities. The powdered phosphate is cheaper than the manufactured manure. But there can be no doubt that an in- creased use of ground coprolites would result in increasing their co.st in the market, and the advantage would thus to some extent be lost. After fine giinding, the coprolite powder may be mixed with farm-yani manure, either under the cattle or else in the dung heap, and the carbonic acid formed by the fermentation of the dung tends to the solubility of the mineral phos}>hates by actual superphosphating. The addition of super])hosphate to a field acts powerfully upon turnips, and other root crops. Its effects are not very evident upon wheat, but it has been noticed to exert a favourable action upon barley, especially when late sown. From what we know of the requirements of plants, wf might naturally think that turnips and barley must require a large amount of phosphates, and that wheat had not similar need. This conclusion would be erroneous. For although a root crop certainly does remove more phosphates from a soil than a crop of wheat, a barley crop, practically speaking, requires about the same amount. A fair crop of wheat, of 32 bushels, removes in grain and straw about 26 lbs. of phosphorus pentoxide from the soil. Twenty tons of turnips, with their tops, take about 40 lbs., so that a crop of turnijjs needs 14 lbs. more than a crop of wheat. Wheat hen undoubtedly requires a less weight per acre, it is proportionately richer than turnips in this element. Why then should phosphates act strongly upon turnips and barley, and scarcely at all upon wheat ? The main reason appears to be the long period during which wheat occu- pies the ground, and the amount of space covered by its roots. A manure is never useful unless it is quanted, and there is usually enough phosphorus ]>entoxide in good wheat lands for this crop, considering the length of time the plant is engaged in its search. The addition of more of this constituent therefore becomes superfluous in all such cases. With barley and roots it is very different. They both grow rapidly, and depend upon a thinner stratum of soil for their nutrition, hence they at once seize upon THE SPECIAL FERTILIZERS OF THE FARM. 485 is derived composed. tre a mixed its obtained )e that the ! phosphates powder and ! is cheaper that an in- cf their cost be lost, th farm-yard . the carbonic ability of the upon turnips, )ii wheat, hut ley, especially of plants, we large amount us conclusion i remove more fp, practically wheat, of 3- ,rus pentoside about 40 lbs., .^heat. Wheat roportionately hosphates act wheat? The wheat occu- A inanure rh phosphorus ■he length of move of this With barley depend upon [nee seize upon and utilise any fre.sh supply of the lease abundant, and tJierefore most important, of the essential ash ingredients. The effect of superphosphate upon the root crop is certainly remarkable. In many districts 300 lbs per acre is found a sufficient application. This will represent 30 lbs. of phosphorous pentoxide, if the manure contain 20 per cent, of soluble or monocalcic pho.sphates. But, supposing the turnip crop yields 20 tons per acre, it will have removed 40 lbs. of this ingredient, so that it will have not only used all that was contained in the superphos- phate, but drawn upon the natural resources of the soil to the extent of 10 lbs. This can only be accounted for by the increased energy conferred upon the plant, in the early stages of its growth, by the superphosphate, wdiich gives it the power to thrive and send its roots in search of the mineral constituents native to the soil. Although superphosphate is the best manure for turnips, it occasionally happens that it produces but little effect. The cases in which disap- pointments 'occur have been thus classified by Dr. Voelcker : 1. If the phosphates are washed out with heavy rain or undergo changes which render them ineffective. 2. If the soil contains a sufficient supply of pho.sphates, when an addi- tional su[)ply can be of no avail. 3. If the soil is deficient in potash, or other essential ash ingredients, in which case pho.sphates alone could not produce a result. LIME. Lime has already been noticed as a constituent of all fertile soils, and an ingredient of all cultivated plants. The high proportion in which it occurs in the a.sh of many plants is sufficient to account for its value as a nunure, while its mechanical and chemical effects upon the soil enhance its agricultural value. The following plants yield a preponderating quan- tity of lime in their ash, and have therefore been classed as "lime plants." Perckntagf, of Lime in the Ash of cektain Cultivated Plants. Potatoes (stam and leaves) 4G.2 per cent. Tobacco 67.44 " Lucernj 48.0 ** Red clover 34.0 " White clover 32. 2 per cent. Sainfoin 32.2 " Alsike clover , 31.9 " Vetches 26.3 " Experiment has demonstrated that lime is absolutely necessary to the development of all plants, and the above list shows how largely it is ap- propriated by many leguminous and other crops. 48G THE HOME, FARM AND Bl^SINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Lime is employed with most effect (1) upon soils wliicli are deficient in it; (2) upon stiti' clays; (3) upon peaty soils, or those containing a larn'e amount of undecomposed vegetable matter. It does not act energetically upon light soils. Again, on old tillage lands, especially those which have been frequently limed, it exerts but little effect ; while upon newly broken up lands it is highly efficacious. There is a general opinion among prac- tical men that lime should be in a highly caustic condition if applied to old tillage lands. Three, six, and nine tons per acre may be considcrotl respectivel}' to represent light, medium ai.d heavy dressings per acre, ami the effect is supposed to last about twelve years. Lime is applied in two conditions — raw and prepared. When applied as marl or chalk, it may be spoken of as raw or crude ; when subjected to burning or calcining, as prepared. 3Iarl has already been defined as a mixture of clay and lime. It no doubt acts beneficially by virtue of both ingredients. Sandy soils have in many cases been greatly improved by the application of " marl " dug from the pits and spread upon the surface. It occurs as blue, gray, red, and yellow marl, of which the first and last are most valuable, and it i< applied at the rate of forty to eighty cubic yards per acre. The compo- sition of mads is very various, some containing eight and others eighty to ninety per cent, of lime. They have^been classified, according to composition, into true marls, or those in which calcium carbonate pre- dominates, and clay marls, or those in which clay is the chief constituent. Gypsum (calc'.um sulphate) is another form in which lime is employed as a manure. It is occasionally applied at the rate of from 200 to 50O or more per acre to clover and other leguminous crops. It may also be employed to fix the ammonia in ordinary farm yard manure, by scattering it over the floors of stables and upon manure heaps. Gypsum is an in- separable ingredient of all superphosphates, in which it exists as one ol the results of the application of sulphur teroxide to phosphates abounding in lime. A dressing of 500 lbs. per acre of a good superphosphate neces- sarily involves the application of about 200 lbs. of gypsum. Common salt (sodium chloride) has long been employed as a man- ure. It may be recommended especially for mangel-wurzel and wheat, and may be applied at the maximum rate of 500 per acre. The effect produced depends much upon the character of the land. Upon stiff and cold soils it is least effective, while upon warmer and dryer soils it is often beneficial. C'ommon salt may be used with good effect upon pastures which carry a coarse herbage, and is useful to mix with nitrate of soda as an application for wheat. It checks the disposition of the nitrate to un- THE SPECIAL FERTILIZERS OF THE FARM. 487 leficlent in ing a large lergetically which have j\vly broken Linong prac- if applied to Q considered )er acre, and Hien ap\died I subjected to lime. It no dy soils have t " marl " du;,' lue, gray, red, able, and it i- The conipo- others eigbtv according to avbonate pve- e£ constituent, c is employed m 200 to 500 t may also l^e ^byscatterini; jsum is an in- fxists as one of ,tes abounding ,sphate neces- Ired as a niau- Ul and wheal. The effect Jpon stiff' aivl Koils it i^ often (upon past^ir*-^^ late of soda a> nitrate to ui^- duly promoto the growth of straw, and effo'its a more thorough distribu- tion of the nitrate by increasing the bulk of tlio dressing. Fish Refuse contains nearly two per cent, of nitrogen, and one per cent, of phosphoric acid. It answers well as a manure for both wheat and root craps when made into a compost with its own weight of soil, and allowed to decompose before being applied. Fish guano is a manufacture of the refuse from oil-pressiug and fish-curing establishments by pressure and treatment with sulphuric acid. Bullock's Blood is used on a large scale as a manure, but chiefly for luixinir with other fertilizers. In its natural state blood contains about three per cent, of nitrogen ; when dried it contains about twelve per cent. 1 makes an excellent manure for turnips when mixed with bone-dust or phosphatie guano ; and, mixed with peat or mould, may be very advan- tageously applied as a top-dressing to wheat crops and to grass land. Sea-weed is largely used as a manure on .some parts of the coast. It. is especially suited for the potato crop, which recpiiros much potash — a large mineral constituent of sea-weed. Sometimes it is used as a top- dressing to grass land. The action of sea-weed is the same as a green crop ploughed in. It contains all the ordinary constituents of land plants Asitputrifies rapidly, it forms a quick manure. It is applied at the rate of twenty to thirty tons per acre. The usual practice is to spread it on the soil and plough it in ; but it is occasionally forn'.ed into a compost with earth and dung. The neighbourhood of the coast is in some districts a distinct element in the value of the land, on account of the sea- weed as a manure, which is thus more cheaply obtained. Sewage as a Manure. — The difficulty in the way of its use is its enormous bulk in proportion to its valuable constituents. A ton of city sewage ordinarily contains only three pounds of solid matter — viz,, one pound of organic and two pounds of mineral constituents, the former yielding less than three ounces of ammonia, and the latter half an ounce of phosphoric acid and one and a half ounces of potash ; so that in a ton of sev>'age there is only about live ounces of fertilizing matter. One ton 'if guano may thus contain as much of the food of plants as twelve hun- ^Ired tons of sewage. According to the market price of the former the theoretical value of the sewage ought thus to be about five 'jonts per ton. Practically, however, there is no comparison between the values of the two manures ; because it is found that ten or even twenty times the theoretic equivalent of sewage is required to produce the effect of guano ; and considering the far greater cost of utilizing the sewage, only a nomi- nal price can be put upon it. 488 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. There ;irc several mothods of utilizing sewage : — Irrigation is the method which has been most largely practised. It consists in distributing the sewage over the surface of well-drained fields, from reservoirs into which^the sewers empty, or into which their contents are pumped. In the dry-earth system'the sewage nuisance is dealt with house by house. Dry pulverized ear thjn 'movable boxes in privies is made the re- ceptable in which execreta are covered and rendered harmless, being still serviceable for gardens and'lields. The system, fit enough for institutions where discipline prevails is hardly applicable to largo towns, where it would entail the bringing in diy earth to the amount of from five to ten pounds for each individual daily. Composts may be defined as the collected rubbi.sh of the farm mingled with lime, in the proportion of about five to 1. Trimmings and clearings of ditches, garden " rubbLsh," road scrapings, stinking stufl:'from pond bottoms, dead animals, anything in short, of voge- ^ table or animal origin, may'be converted into valuable manure. There is no better sign of tidy and thrifty farming than large collections of such like materials en roadsides and vacant spots. When composts are formed of dead animals, or of animal matter, such as refuse from slaughter-houses, fisheries, etc., lime should be avoided, and earth alone be used to prevent the escape of ammonia. Green Manures. — This is the term given to crops which are grown for the purpose of being ploughed in on the land which produced them. This was once a common practice in England, and still is in some parts of America, but the availability of commercial fertilizers, combined with the high prices obtainable for beef and mutton, has rendered the farmer more careless than he once was of the slower and more natural methods of maintaining or increasing fertility. By ploughino 'n a green crop, the surface soil is enriched not onl}' by the elements which uiie crop derives from the air, but also by mineral and vegetable matters which is brought up by it frf>m the subsoil. The green crop thus acts the part of a gatherer of plant food, and makes it easier for any crop sown after this green-manuring to get its supplies from the de- composing vegetation present in the soil. The pl£',nts best adapted for green-manuring, are those which derive their support princii)ally from the air, which grow rapidly, which cover the ground well, and whose roots penetrate deep, and ramify extensively throughout the soil. THE SPECIAL FERTILIZERS OF THE FARM. 480 ractiscd. It rained fields, leir contents th liouse by made the re- ss, being still )!• institutions ^'ns, where it im five to ten farm mingled oad scrapings, short, of voge- , ure. There is ections of such ■il matter, such avoided, and arc grown for I them. This some parts of )ined with the farmer more il methods of le lot only hy the y mineral and The green es it easier for |s from the de- :h derive thciv luch cover the extensively Among the various plants grown for green-manuring are, buckwheat, rye, rape, and common clover. Many of these crops, when ploughed in green, are, weight for weight, almost as good as farm-yard manure, containing largo quantities of nitrogen, phosphoric acid, and potash. The great weight of decomposable vegetable matter contained in the root as well as the leaf of a crop, grown for being ploughed in as manure, is to be considered in es- timating its effect as a fertilizer. There can be no doubt that to this especially is due the fertilizing eli'ect of a clover stubble when ploughed in as a preparation for the following wheat crop. Eight to twelve tons per acre may be grown of any of the crops we have named, with the aid of a special fertilizer. Green-manuring produces the greatest effect on light sandy .soils in dry climates ; hence its more common use in the United States and Canada than in Britain ; but it is profitably practised also on heavy soils. The green crop should, if possible, be ploughed in just before the time of flower- ing, or at all events after it has arrived at considerable growth. The sea- son of the year for ploughing in must depend upon the nature of the crop ; but the operation is best performed in the heat of summer, as the condi- tions for rapid decomposition are then actively present, after the plants arc turned in. To cover them efiectually, they require to be first heavily rolled. A skim coulter .should be used in the plough that is used, and the ploughing should be deep enough to retain moisture about the decaying plants. TuE Liquid Manure of the Farm is the drainings or the washings from the farm-yard manure. The best use that can be made of it proba- bly is to return it to the dung heap, where means should be devised for its absorption or retention. If allowed to flow away from the cattle sheds or from the manure pile, it should be collected in tanks. From the collecting tanks it may be distributed over the land by a watering-cart, when the urea is small. Liquid manure is chiefly valuable for the rapidity with which it produces its effect. It is well adapted to light sandy soils, but a failure on heavy clays. It is also more suitable for grass and root crops than for grain crops. By its use grass may be cut six or eight times in the course of a year. The Application of Special Manures.— The tendency of modern practice in manuring is to use readily soluble and quick-acting manures hut to use them sparingly at a time. Little and often is the rule. In applying fertilizers of a soluble character, it is found "economical to manure the plant rather than the soil. The practice is especially appli- cable to mangels and other drilled crops, where the plants are a consider- 490 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. able distance apart in the rows. The manure is depositctl by the Jrill along the line of each plant row and imiaodiati'ly covered in. Manurts which are not so readily soluble produce the best efi'ect when intiniateh mixed with the soil. The depth to which the manure is turned in should be regulated by the nature of the soil and of the manure. On a clay soil it may be buried deeper with advantage than on a sandy soil ; and a slow manure may be buried deeper than a soluble and quick-acting manure. It is not, however, good policy to bury any manure very deeply. The rain in a drained soil will soon distribute it throughout the mass to be fertil- ized ; and we must not forget that the producing power of a soil is gov- erned more by the mass of its vegetable bed than l»y the measure of its superficies ; and where the subsoil is unraanured the cro[) will often be underfed. One of the causes of the failure of i-ed clover is traced, we believe, to the dying otl of the roots when they penetrate beyond the deptli of available manure. Soluble manures, like nitrate of soda and sulphate of ammonia, should be put on the surface ; but undissolved phosphate, anil even guano, is best when just covered with the soil. Stifi' clays arc im- mensely benefited by a good dressing offrali farm-yard manure ploughe ! under to a tolerable depth. Top-dressings with artificial manures are chiefly to be recommended for crops in the grassy stages of their growth — wheat crops in spring, and grass lands at the same season, and especially in wet seasons. In such seasons one objection to this method of applying manure to wheat is the tendency which it produces in the crop to lodge. Salt will partly counteract this effect, and it does so by strengthening and to some extent shortening the straw; hut this is to counteract one of the principal objects of tojvdresv ing. On clay soils, which produce strong straw, the tendency to lodge i^ less than on lighter soils. In dry seasons, on the other hand, top-dressing-^ of artificial manures are often inefficient, and the drier the climate the less likely are they to answer. But there are doubtless circumstances when top-dressing may be profitable in any season — as on poor soils, and where the manure is applied for the first time on newly reclaimed land. A top- dressing of farm-yard manure always produces a good etfect. In a wet season it is washed into the soil. In a drv one it is often very eflicacioiis as a mulch on grass and arable land, too, if, as is sometimes done, it hi- applied to the latter immediately after the crop is put in, and before tin) plants come up. Artifi:cial manures may be applied either in a diy or liquid form, broad- cast or in the drill. by the ilrill in. ManuiLS en intiniatol} •ned in should On a clay soil il ; and a slow icr vuivnure. It )ly. The rain ,ss to bo fortil- : a soil is gov- measure of its ) will often be r is traced, we ?yond the depth ia and sulphate phosphate, an^i itl' clays are im- imnure ploughs 1 '^i\K Cropci of "iChc Jjarm. GRAIN CEOPS. HEAT. — Triticuvi vjili/are, or common wheat i- the most important and most valuable of our |j;rain crops. T have no doulit it is oenerally known that botanieally there exists no difference whatever between what are called u'inier aiuK"<;)ri7i^ wheats : being of one family and var^'ing only in form and habits of growth, the vari- ation has been brought about by habit ; winter wheat grows best by being sown in the fall of the year, and other varieties l)est inthe spring, because the} have bisen habituated to it — not because they will not grow if reverseil. Winter wheat sown in spring will grow the first season, but not mature until the suc- ceeding one, and spring wheat sown in the fall will either die off" or come stronger and earlier in the spring. Yet a continuity of these changes will ultimately make the winter kin then ploughed and seeded with Timothy again, this exhausted soil is turned to the bottom of the furrow, and the inert soil brought up to have tin process repeated. A few years of such treatment will take" the virtue out of any land, provided Timothy is grown alone. The experience of farmers in different parts of the country, in the cultivation of Timothy, is as diverse as the soils on which it is grown. While many of the tlieories advanced by them may be correct to the extent of their own observations, there are circumstances of soil ami climatic influences which tend to produce results not always accounted for in their calculations. THE GRASSES OF THE FARM. 499 single idea ■. dream that lich tliirty ov rress it is no norant of the I no value to 5 they are the The soils best adapted for the growth of Timothy are moist, })eaty or loamy, although there arc fair crops grown on liglit gravelly soils, by lieavy manuring, yet there arc other grasses far nio>'e suitable for such lands. As it is generally conceded that Timothy is only profitable to (^'ow as a marketable hay cro]i, to make it as remunerative as possible, is the object of the farmer, which can only be accomplished by the selection of suitable soils, liberal manuring, thorough pulverization and clean.sing of the land. ciise). otes, wjxs first : Maryland, ^y s who built tliv cy of Baltimore. ; it was calleti ' \,y that nixme. ,hed by the fine [, received then, cd to have been ^v 17G0, and for ,ist and newly ace, often in tlv :,s takes only the nighly, while all ^t. In such con- to sterility. Ill annually over- die out. lHti> Isted soil is turned lit up to have tk' take the virtue country, in tk lich it is gro^^'" l^e correct to the Inces of soil an*l hvavs accountf'i Rough Cock's-foot, or Orchard Grass {Dactylls glomcrata). This valuable grass is indigenous to the .soil of America, and from its adaptability to various soils, its early and late growth, luxuriant foliage and nutritive qualities, is well entitled to an equality with any grass either native or foreign, which is being cultivated in this country. It appears that this grass was introduced into England previous to ITIJO. It forms one of the most conunon grasses in English pastures, and enters either more or less into all udxtures for meadow or pasture, but is used very sparingly in mixtures for lawns. It has been found highly useful as an early sheep feed, and it grows well in winter. It grows in midsummer in a drought Avheu everything else is parched or burnt up. All boasts are fond of it, both as pasture and hay ; it is })ermancnt, grows in the shade luxuriantly, hence it is called Orchard grass. Any soil is suitable if not \vi\i. Orchard grass, when sown with clover, grows as rapidly as clover, starts in the .spring as early, and by this sinrllarity of habit rnakes a suit- able grass to mix witli it. For {lasturage we greatly value Orohanl grass, for three reasons : It stands a drought better than any other, will bear heavier stocking, and comes forward in the spring very early. Orch- ard grass, also, by its great amount of fibrous roots, tends to improve in,stead of impoverish the .soil, and we have observed that an Orchard grass sod genei-ally turns up a good dark colour on being ploughed. It is not at all tit for a lixwn, as it sometimes grows in bunch- es or tussecks, especially when sown thin. Perhaps there are no other two grasses that can be sown together with so great advantage as red clover and Orchard grass, by their union the crop is nearly double what it Would be if each were sown separately ; they gro and ticnver well to- gether, come to maturity about the same time and tlie clover is supported honi falling by the uncommon strength of the Orchard grass. 500 THE HOME, FAllM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Meadow Flscue (Festuca pratensis). It comes near in its appearance to rye grass, but seems greatly superior, at least for the purpose of forming or improving meadows, as being larger and more productive in foliage. It is hardy, strictly perennial, and thrives well, not only in wet. but in dry grounds, growing in all situa- tions. It abounds in the best meadows, in the best hay districts, and in short, seems well calculated to supply the defects of rye grass. It has also the quality of producing more seeds than most of the other sorts of grasses which grow rapidly and are easily gathered. No plant, whatever, deserves more the attention of the farmer than this, it being of certain growth, easy culture, productive and remarkably sweet. It will thrive in either dry or wet soils, an advantage which most others do not ]K)sse.s.s ; and, except in point of early growth, it appears to be little inferior to Fox Tail. This grass, which is seldom absent from rich meadows and j)astu,res, is observed to be highly grateful to oxen, sheep and horses, particularly the former. It appears to grow most luxuriantly with the hard fescue. This is said to be the Kandall grass of Virginia. Tall Oat Grass (Arrhcnotherum avenaceum). Tall Oat Grass, or Peruvian Grass of Virginia, though a rather coarse plant, yet vegetates with great luxuriance ; it is early and productive, and affords a plentiful aftermath. It approf^ches the meadow foxtail in e.\- cellence, for which it may prove a substitute in many cases. It is some- times found abundant in meadows in England. On the continent uf Europe it is cultivated with advantage, and proved at the Experimental Farm to be suitable foi' Ontario, It is found most beneficial when retained in a close state of feeding. It makes good hay, is natural to sandy loams but thrives best on strong, tenacious clays in England. Tall Oat Grass was introduced into tlie United States about the beginning of the present century. Judge Buei, of Albany, speaking of it in 1823, says : " It pos- sesses the advantage of early, quick and late growth, for which the cocks foot is esteemed, tillei's well and is admirably calculated for a pasture grass. It has the advantage of Oi chard gra.ss, which it resembles in the time of maturing, in quickness of growth and its earliness and lateness, Orchard grass always takes two years to make a full crop, while Oat grass sown in the fall on good land will }nake a crop of hay the rext sum- mer. It has also the advantage over Orchard grass in seeding. It nun be sown either in the spring or fall, while Orchard grass in this climiile must always be sown in the spring. THE GRASSES OF THE FARM. 501 ,tly suyjerior, being larger reunial, and in all situa- bricts, ami in rass. It lias ther sorts of mt, whatever, ing of certain will thrive in i not possess ; nferior to Fox ■s and i)astures, 2s, particularly le hard fescue. n). Notwithstanding these advantages over the Orchard grass, it is not as valuable a grass, it never forms as thick and compact a sod as Orchard. f^rass. It is mor(3 lial)le to injury from drought. It xnust never be left one day after it blooms, if you want tirst-class liay, and a rai i Avill injure the looks of Oat grass three times as much as it will injure Orchardfgrass or Timothy. If, however, it is cut and liandled right, it makes beautiful hav. If cut early and the summer is not an excessively dry one it will heul twice in the same summer. I consider the Oat grass a more v^alu- able grass than Timothy, for pasture, and it is not nearly as exhaustive to the soil, and if properly handled will make as good hay and twice as much of it. Smooth Stalked Poa or Meadow Grass. June Grass, Kentucky Blue Grass, Common Spear Grass {Poa pixdensis.) Tills grass has always been a favourite one in England as a mixture with other grasses for permanent pastures, meadows and lawns, but as a separate crop it is rarely if ever cultivated. The Smooth Stalked Poa is a sweet grass, and readily eaten by cattle in trencral, it carries its verdure into the winter better than most others, and in the following spring throws out numerous young shoots, so as to make excellent spring food. It produces a good crop of leaves at the bot- tom, which makes exceedingly fine hay and is fit for cutting early in the spring. One writer says : "This is one of the most useful grasses, for it vege- tates in the driest soils, supports its verdure during the winter, and in the spring throws out numerous shoots for early pasture, the hay is also of Jiiie quality." Although Poa pratensis is known all over Northern Europe as far as St. Petersburg!!, 60 degrees north latitude, yet in no part of Europe has the merits of the Poa family been so fully developed as in the States of Virginia, Maryland and the far famed Kentucky Blue grass region. This region also extends over several counties in Ohio, but the grass does not seem to flourish so luxuriantly on the Ohio side, although in other coun- ties of Ohio, it is said to grow as luxuriantly, and form as staple a pasture grass as it does in any part of Kentucky. The cultivation of this grass must have improved wonderfully within the last fifty years. W. 8. Hand, of Lewis Co., Kentucky, who has had a large experience in the cultivation of Poa Pratensis, says of it : " Common Spear grass and Kentucky Blue grass is one and the same, varying in size and appearance ,' -U: i«^;.-' ^- 3»-' 502 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr.EDIA. according to the soil and latitude in which it grows, Tlie pUmt is a liglit green colour, tlie spikelets frequently variegated with bluish purple. Flowers in June, but onc3 a year, which recommends this for lawns. The produce ordinarily is small compared with other grasses, but the herbage is fine. It grow.s in a variety of soils, from the dryest knolls to a wet meadow. It does not stand severe drouglits as well as the Orchard grass. It endures the frosts of winter better than all other grasses, and continues luxuriant through mild winters. It requires from two to three years to become well set, does not arrive at perfection a.j a jiasture grass till the sward is older than three years, hence it is not suited to alternate hu.s- bandiy, or where the land is to remain in grass only a few years and then to be ploughed up. The best Blue grass is found in shaded pastures. It is the first plant that puts forth its leaves and remains green if the sea.son is favourable. Early in the fall it takes a second growth and fiourislie.s vigorously until the ground freezes. Blue grass makes the sweetest and best of ha3^ It should be cut as the seeds begin to ripen, spread well and protect from rain and dews, on the second day stock and shelter and salt- Blue grass is not commended to cultivate especially for hay. It is not as profitable a product to merchandize as Timothy and Orchard grass. Blue grass on limestone land is perpetual, if properly managed, and the perfec- tion it attains in Kentucky is to be attributed to favourable soils, a tem- perate climate and mild winters, all of which have contributed to make Kentucky Blue grass the basis of our agricultural wealth and. prosperity." Fowl Meadow — False Red Top {Poa Herotina.) This grass has been known and cultivated in the New England State.^ from an early period. It grows tall and thick, making a more soft and pliable hay and better adapted for pressing and shipping off for the u.se of horses on board, than Timothy. It yields well to the aci-e, and will not spoil, although it stands beyond the common time of mowing. It must be sown in low moist land. The cultivation of this grass seems to be prin- cipally confined to the New England States, where it is considered a val- uable one. Its merits consist in its thick and abundant growth on land more moist than is well adapted to common upland grasses. It never grows so coarse or hard but that the stalk is sweet and tender, and eaten without waste. It should enter largely into a mixture with other grasses sown on good, moist soils. H^^^^^^^K' >l';*', .. THE GRASSES OF THE FARjr. 503 ,nt is a liglit Liish purple. lawns. The the hcrbag<-' oils to a wet rcliavd grass. ind continues hree years to rrrass till the xltcrnatc luis- rears and then pastures. It n if the season and nourishes ; sweetest and pread well and lielter and salt- J, It is not as L-d grass. Blue and the pcrfec- )le soils, a teni- ,utcd to make .nd prosperity.' nglai-ivl ^^tates more sott and for the use of , and will not r. It must be 'ms to be pvin- isidered a val- rowth on land ees. It never dor, and eaten , sown on good, Yellow Oat Grass (Arena Jlarescens). Yellow Oat Grass, grows naturally in dry pasture, on rather light and j,'Ood soils yields a considerable bulk of fine herbage, and deserves to form a portion of all mixtures oa light, dry soils, either for hay or pasture. It arrives early at maturit}^, and although a perennial, yet if allowed to ripen seed, it is but of short duration, particularly if grown on stiff, moist soils. It is the most useful, as a hay and pasture grass, of the genus Ave- na, as well as the smallest seeded of all the native species. Mr. Tauton .says of it : " That it is so rich in its qualities, and so uni- versal a citizen of the world, that there i.s no soil from the lightest calca- reous loam, to the stiffest clay into which he would not introduce it where lie intended to form a permanent turf." It is said that a top dressing of lime will double the produce of this grass, and that it thrives best on cal- carious soils. Fine Bent Grass, or Red Top. {Agrostls vulgaris). This grass has always been considered as a troublesome weed in dry, lij,'ht soils, and not being well liked by cattle, it couunonly attracts atten- tion as a useless grass to ])e got quit of as soon as possible, more particularly as its creeping roots prove highly injurious to the soil. However, not- with.standing its bad qualities, sheep are found to > .it it, -and it is some- thnes sown on bare, gravelly places, where the more valuable grasses will not grow for the purpose of covering them v/ith vegetation. Red Top has been long and favourabl}'' known in this country as a permanent pasture grass. It is supposed by some to have been introduced into the Northern States. But I am inclined to the belief that it is as much indii^jenous to the soil of Ameiica as it is to that of any part of Great Britain. It is found growing naturally on fertile and medium soils, and there are few meadows of three or four years' standing in which Red Top is not found in abundance, and is sure to assert its supremacy and become permanent, while in the course of six or seven years the Timothy has disappeared. Red Top as a mixture with other grasses is necessary, but only in small quantities, on land capable of producing better grasses. On soil, where the more valuable grasses will not succeed as already stated, it is highly useful for the purpose of covering them with vegetation. On pasture lauds where Red Top predominates, the fields must be overstocked, for if allowed to grow up to seed, the cattle refuse it, which is sufficient evi- dence that it is not so much relished by stock as some of the other pasture gvassos. E,ed Top and the now very popular Rhode Island Bent, are one ^^n^ 504 THE HOME, FAllM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. and the same grass, any difference in their appearance being produced liy varieties of soils. Altlioiigh it is claimed that the Agi'ostis, or Bent grasses thrive best in moist soils, 3'et it has been sufficiently proved that Agrostis vulgaris (the true Red Top) may be sown to advantage on a variety of soils. It answers well to sow Red Top separately on moist lands where oM gi-ass has run out, or become mossy. On such places it would fill the soil with its numerous roots and make it more jiassable. Also on moist, un- drained soils, liable to occasional overflow, if cut early, it has a thick bottom, and makes a heavy croji of second-hand hay. Perennial Rye Gkass. {Lolium perrenne). Perennial Rye Grass contains upwards of sixty varieties, some of wliich are annual. It is fomid to flourish on most kinds of soil, and grows under circum- stances of different management on many upland situations, though sound and somewhat moist midlands are the most appropriate. It soon arrivf.- at })erfection and produces in its first year of growth a good supply of early herbage which is much liked by cattle. It produces an abundance of seed which is easily collected. Perhaps there is no other grass so widely known, and in years past, so extensively cultivated as Rj-c grass has been, throughout Biitain. At present it is supplanted to a great ex- tent by the cultivation of Timothy, which seems as in this country to havi become an universal favourite. Like Timothy, the Rj'c grass is an inipov- erisher of the soil, and requires annual top dressing, else in a few years the land becomes exhausted and the grass dies out. The analysis of this grass will favourably compare with the best of cultivated grasses, and should be a strong reconnnendation in favour of its cultivation on a more extended scale than has yet been given it in America. It is superior to Timothy, as a mixture for permanent meadow or pasturage. Italian Rye Grass. (Lolium italiciim.) The marked distinction between Italian Rye Grass and the peieimia; rye grass and its varieties is that Italian Rj'e Grass has an awn or liearci adhering to the seed while the varieties of the perennial are beardle s. Compared with any of the varieties of common rye grass, the Italian Rye Grass affords a stronger braird, arrives at maturity sooner, has a greater abundance of foliage, which is broader and of a lighter or more lively green colour, grows considerably taller, is more upright or less inclined to THE CLOVERS OF THE FARM. 505 rr pruduceil !)}• ,r Bent grasses I that Agvostb u a variety ot nds vrbeve oU ,ul<,l till the soil ;o on moist, un- it has a tliii'k ^, some of wbich rs under circuia- ns, though sound It soon arrive a good supi^ly of ces an abundance 10 othpr grass so ated as Rye grass ied to a great ex- s country to bave grass is an iiupov- i^e in a few years ,e analysis oE tliv- .ted grasses, and vation on a uwre It "is superior to [i.) Iind the pereniii=ii an awn or beard arc heai'dle-^. ,s,tlicltahanRye ^er, has a great^v >v or more lively U- less inclined to spread on the ground, its spikes, as already stated, are longer, spikelets laoiv thinly set, and upon the whole producing a less hulk of seed which is smaller. In Fj'ance this grass is stated to be generally sown in autiniui at tlie rate of 10 to 18 pounds per acre, and tl\e seed rolled in ; that in the next autumn the turf is covered like an old meadow, and the crop of the following year is more than double ; its growth, also is so rapid, that if sown with clover or lucerne, it will quickly choke thcui. It is also said t(>lie of such a hardy nature that when cut in Novend)er, it has put forth tVesli shoots of a foot in length in the close of December, and it has been found to stand the winter in the North of Europe. In ([uickncss of Ljrowth thi.s grass has excelled ;iil others of the true grasses Avhich 1 have sown this spring and, bids fair to be a good crop notwithstanding the severe droughts it has been subjected to. Italian Rye grass is })referable to ;in\' of the other varieties foi- soiling purposes, it gives an early, quick anil succe,ssive growth till late in the fall, it will stand any amount of forcing by irrigation, liquid manure or pliosphatic apjjlications It has buen grown successfully at Guelph, Ontario, but for permanency has to be associated with the more hardy grasses in order to withstand the winters. HuNCiAitiAN Grass, Bristly Fox Tail Grass {Setarla tjermaniciim). This grows in a dry Avarm soil. The stalk is nearly solid and the hay ve)y lieavy, and if cut in time w ill be as green as grass, and a horse will want little grain for ordinary farm work. One advantage in raising Hungarian grass is the lateness it may be sown, foi' a farmer finding in June that his meadows are light, or his corn a failure, can sow Hungarian grass and make np the deficiency. Many make a mistake in seeding tof) soon ; the crop will be nioi'e or less injur(}d by weeds, which seem to grow under all circumstinces. It need.-i but seventy days of reasonably good weather to make a crop of hay from tl us grass. THE CLOVERS OF THE FARM. The clovers or ai'tificial grasses, belonging mostly to the Leguminosa or Pulse Family of plants are cultivated and used both in a green and dried state as food for the domestic animals. The artificiil grasses have been cultivated over two centuries in £ng- •and. Red clover is supposed to have been grown as a field crop since hJ3o. lu this country ; the introduction and cultivation of Red clover dates from 1770, about that time a ^mall quantity of red clover .set IIIIIHJLIIWUlJBI ■ 506 THV. HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. readied Philau Mepens). Icr the name of Its use fron^ ^^'' -jortedfromHoi- Kie most general Ic lowest to the small, and gi'o^'^ Lerl^erbage.that it is scarcely perceptible until brought up by top-dressings, which prob- ably has given rise to the very g^'nernl opinion that it is indigenous to some soils. The cen*'al root ])enetrates to a considerable deptlv, and the plant is thereby enable ?^ .'^' c^ ^ 'V // o / /A ^ W <^^^^> wed to lie as " mulch " of which practice good examples occurred at the Ontario Experimental Farm in 1883. PERMANENT PASTURES. 515 i from the 1 to sheep, rses resvilts nly is kept. lick out all i, the cattle rilh avidity nd. Many bly in bloom keep down, evel grazers, places where the land ha,s ;eason of the from either ; inches deep, Q leaf as well wing nourish- Young turf abered that if vergrown and wth of grass is p on the land, drainage and subject which mowing. The spudding or t this would be tie is fully in often indicate ted mowing;. y part of the tock. Inaverj- ^e bought with emains should Ltablc, or if not good examples In some districts tlie custom prevails of mowing and grazing in alternate years. In practice it is found that this has not much to recommend it : and it is often an cxcu.se for mowing land without properly manuring it. Land that has long been mown yearly and well manured, puts up varieties of grasses which grow up and ripen together about mowing time in July better than the gras.ses of an ordinary pasture will do. Nor w^ill a field generally mown graze as evenly as a regular pasture. Many meadows are .specially adai)ted for the growth of gra.sses for mowing, cither from being capable of irrigation, or from being on a cool subsoil. When a meadow is on a shallow though not on a dry subsoil, it will, although well manured, fail to yield a good crop for hay in a hot, dry spring and summer, the flower stalks pushing up w^ithout much bottom grass. And such lands will getierally be better grazed. In districts where there is a large proportion of arable land the mea- dows are often in poor condition. The whole of the farm dung is used on the plough land, and the meadows may be dressed with lime and soil, or ot'ier weak composts. This i.s, however, not true economy. Where farm ilung cannot readily be spared, or where it would have to be hauled a long distance, or over difii-' ^'^ roads, its place may be well supplied by 300 of bone manure. It is always best to secu .n even crop of grass all over the land, the cost of mowing and hayn.aking not being proportionately greater with a full crop than with half a crop. By dressing all weak spots in a meadow at the end of April, when they may be detected, with a light dressing of nitrat'i of soda, this result may be obtained. Farm dung is best applied to the land either immediately after the hay is cleared, or in early autumn, after the early growth_^of aftergrass has been fed off. Ten or fifteen loads per acre, equal to nearly as many tons, is a good dressing. It may also be applied any time in the winter, but with generally an inferior result than is realized from an earlier dressing. The dung, after being spread should be chain harrowed once or twice. If not got on before spring, and a dry season comes, the crop will be injured rather than benefited by it. Where the mowing meadows lie in such a situation and form that they can be readily irrigated with water either of natural fertilizing quality or mixed with sewage, they may be beneficially flooded in the winter and spring. The drainage from the farm buildings and yards, when collected in cesspools and mixed with suflicient volume of water to flow wlien flu.shcd oft' by gravitation over a considerable area of land, will be very beneficial, and will produce heavy crops of somewhat coarse grass. When from the position of the barns, etc., or the scarcity of water, this cannot r)iG THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOr/EDIA. be done, the liquid manure hIkjuM bo collected into a tank, the rain water being excluded, and carted out in showery weatlier to the nearest meadow or other field requiring manure. IVIuch catch water from land drainage and brook and river water is of little bent-iit except in a very dry season, and any outlay required ^o secure the use of it must be kept within mode- rate limits. When the main drain crosses a road, the water can be \erv sinq)ly utilized, of which there is a good example at the Ontario Experi- mental Farm. On the meadows cake and coi'n may be freely given to sheep, and the troughs regularly moved over the fields, the meadows will be i>ut in high condition, a tluck-set fine herbage being obtained in great abundance, with a better result in quality and quantity of produce than can be ob- tained by any otlier method of manuring. If the meadow be on a warm soil, it is specially desirable to get the land well covered with grass before hot weather comes. Meadows in very high condition on a cool s ibsoil can be grazed even in April without risk. IMeadows and clover set ajtait for niowing require to be looked over in the spring, all sticks and stones being picked oft', and then to be rolled. Permanent pastures are therefore sometimes treated as yielding annu- ally several cuttings of green fodder, taken to cattle in yard or stall. If ordinary land be seeded according to the tables of the seedsmen witli the several sorts of grasses, each of the proper quality, which are found in good pasture, it will after the first free growth for a year oi' two geneially diminish in -productiveness — becoming very disappointing indeed in the oth or Gth year — after which, if grazed and manured and liberally treated, it will begin to improve, and may, 8 or 9 years thei'eafter, attain whatever rank as a pasture shall ultimately belong to it. And if instead of sowing an elaborate mixture of seeds, the common practice be followed of sowing 8 or lOlbs. of mixed clover seed, and some 3()lbs, of mixed grasses of un- known composition, along with a barley crop, and the subsequent pasture be afterwards liberally treated — mown the first year and thereafter not closely grazed (to which end sheep should not be allowed on it) — the land being periodically liberally dressed, and bone-dust or superphosphate being applied — the end will be that ultimately a fair pasture will be obtained. This will come about partly through the development of the best grasses which were sown, and partly by the gradual encroachment of the bettei' grasses natural to the soil — which have been unable to hold their own, or even to do more than that, under the liberal treatment given. The usual practice, however, when it is intended to lay a field down to grass, is, after draining and thorough cultivation, and manuring by means PERMANENT PASTURES. 517 of a root crop, to sow a suitable mixture of grasses and clover with a light seeding of barley. This is done when the land is in good tilth, in April or May. The clovers are sown by themselves, and the mixed grasses at a second operation. The barley produces a crop, which is harvested ; and young cattle may keep the grass down the first autumn if there is an abundant growth : and the field may be mown the next year, being well manured in the autumn. It should therefore be grazed annually — first with young stock, — the cattle receiving at the same time some grain, thus eiu'iching their manure, and adding to the fertility of the land. It should also be manured occasionally : bone-dust and superphosphate promoting the growth of the clovers ; and nitrate of soda and sulphate of ammonia promoting the growth of the grasses. In the course of a few years the land, if in a suitable climate, will become a good permanent pasture. But in order to obtain on old tilled land a good turf as easily as possible, it is the best policy to sow the seeds on land suitably prepared without any grain crop. One advantage of this plan is that if annual weeds spring up ahead of the clover, they maybe destroyed without injuring the clover by moving when 4 to 6 inches high, and any places in the field where the clover plant appears deficient can be re-sown at once. The risk of some of the small seeds being smothered by the growth of straw is also obviated. It is most important for the land to be clean, firm, level, and of good tilth before sowing: the seeds. If the land be unlevel or roujjh, man^'■ cf the small seeds sown will not germinate. If the land be foul it may be better to dehi}'' the seeding a year, and take a crop of turnips or other -oots, or even a summer fallow. Unless the field be in high condition, 200 or •300 lbs. per acre of prepared bone manure, should be well harrowed into the soil l.'ofore sowing the seeds. This dressing may be repeated with ad- vantage, or 100 of nitrate of soda be substituted as a top-dressing when the young seeds are 3 or 4 inches high. It will generally be best to obtain a mixture of natural and artificial grasses and clovers specially adapted to the soil of the field, from one of our leading seedsmen, several of whom have already bestowed attention to the subject. The best time for sowing is from the middle of April to the middle of May, avoiding danger from spring frosts and summer drought. A dry, still day should be chosen, and it is better if there be a probability of an early fall of rain to start the seeds quickly. The land, being clean and level, should bo harrowed with light harrows immediately before sowing the seeds, and rolled directly after. A very light harrow may sometimes be used with advantage after the seeds are sown, but unless lightly done some of the small seeds will be put too deep, and will not germinate. A 518 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP J^DIA. seed harrow will be the best way of sowing the seeds, going twice over the land, once with the light grass seeds up and down the furrow, and then again the reverse way with the heavier clover seeds. An expert seeds- man will, however, on a still day sow the seeds evenly by hand. Where it is desired to sow permanent grass seeds on land already sown with fall wheat, the end of March or in April will bo a suitable time, as the wheat plant will in some measure protect the young seeds from damage by frost. A light harrowing before sowing and rolling after will be all the tillage re- quired. When sown with spring grain, the seeds may be put in either directly after the grain is harrowed in, or in May, when it is well up, the roller being always used to cover them. Two or thi-ee lbs. per acre of rape, is in some districts commonly sown without a grain crop, either with mixed clovers in alternate husbandry, or with permanent grass seeds. The rape and seeds are fed off together in the following autumn, and if cake be also given the young seeds are greatly enriched, and in fine weather the tread- ing of the sheep benefits the seeds. Young seeds should not be closely grazed the first year, or be trodden in wet weather by heavy stock. After frosts commence in fall stock should not be allowed to go upon them. Different opinions exist as to the best mode of treating the seeds the fol- lowing spring. They may either be mown early in Juie, taking care not to let them get overgrown, and afterwards fed, or they may be grazed throughout. A toj^-dressng of two or three hundred of bone-dust will in either case be often applied with advantage early in April. If, as often happens when seeds are grazed, rough patches are left ungrazed these should be mown off. Where the land is naturally poor, or has been exhausted by a long course of tillage, a very liberal treatment will be required to bring it into pi'ofitable turf A dressing of good dung or 300 lbs. of bones, repeated light dressings of quick-acting manures, such as suj)erphosphate, and the feeding of cake on the land, are all efficient means of improving the turf. Close feeding by sheep is deemed prejudicial, as they will pick out the clovers and finer grasses, and leave the coaser grasses to get the mastery. Where however cake is freely given, this objection is in some measure overcome, as the manure greatly enriched, thickens the turf, and sheep when having cake will more rapidly eat coarse food. Our present knowledge of the adaptability of the better grasses and clovers for permanent pasture in Canada, points to the following which we obtain from many trials at the Ontario Expeiimental Farm. THE CULTIVATION OF FAUM CROPS. Orasaes. Clovers. olD Timothy 7 lbs Orchard 4 Italian Ryo 2 Perennial Rye I! Tall Oat 2 Red-top 2 Meadow Fescue 3 Bent 1 Kentucky Blue 2 25 Lucerne 4 lb?. White 3 •• Red 1 •• Alayke 1 *' Yellow 1 " II 10 " 25 " Grausea Per acre 35 « NoTR. — The Rye grasses will hold in the moat favourable positions in Ontario, in association with others, but rarely alono : (TtT Ihe €ii(tibiition oi Jfurm €v0j|J5. SOIL well stocked with the necessary ash ingredients of plants, and nitrogen ; in a good physical condition ; situated in a good climate, and possessing a good sub- soil, and a favourable aspect, are the necessary con- ditions of fertility. Each of these conditions has occu- pied attention elsewhere in these pages, and our next study must be that of those general principles which should be observed in order to secure the best crop with the least possible injury to, or the greatest possible im- provement of, the land. Rotations. The idea of an orderly succession of crops is no doubt ancient. A high antiquity is accorded to this system by Mr. R. B. Morier when he speaks of it as one important aspect of the early Teutonic freeman even so far back as the first century. How the idea of a rotcation first originated may be readily guessed from the fact that the practice of growing a particular kind of crop year after year on the same land cannot be carried on long ■r 520 THE HOME, FARM AND JbUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. without evil effects. A limit has been reached, even in many of the most fertile soils ol' the States and Canada, where wheat cannot longer be grown. The first result of the exhaustion of land in a more or less nomad con- dition of society would be the migration of the cultivator to fresh fields, and the relin (uishing of the worn-out lands to natural pasture. This in itself would be rest, and it is not necessary here to go over the reasons for the gradual recovery of such rclincjuished lands. Suffice it to say that ^'srtility would in time return to them, and they would once more be cap- cible of remuni^rative cultivation. This in itself would be a sort of rotation or altcrnati' -n jctween a series of years in grain and a series of years in pas- ture. Conveni(!nce would suggest the advantage of sowing one portion of the land \ ith spr.ng grain and another with winter grain ; and systematio working of fallows would shorten the period necessary for renovating an exhausted field ; and tlu; three-field course would thus gradually shap. itself, and all the more readily as the increase of population I'endeieil better ciltivation imperative. Bearing in mind the disintegrating forces that are always at work in a soil, the benefir.s of a fallow no longer remain a mystery. What ini;,'lu re(piire years to produce, if the soil were left entirely to nature, is acc(jni- plished in a single season by pulverizing and aerifying effects of tillage implements, assisted, as they invariably are, by the action of the atmos- phere, moisture, and changes of temperature. The benefits of a fallow were known to the Israelites, who were rcfpiireil to fallow all their land once in seven years. The Romans introduced tliu ]>ractice into p]ngland; but a systematic tillage of bare fallows is said to have been vniknown in Scotland till about a hundred years since. Tlie old three-field course is still practised in certain stiff land districts. It consists in taking a crop of wheat, followed by beans, oats, or sometimes clover, and the third year it is fallowed. Such a system is not likely to be remunerativd at present grain prices, and if a better system of cropping,' cannot be profitably introduced, such lands ought to be laid away to permanent pasture. In the better classes of clay lands, bare fallows are made occasionally, if a field is exceptionally foul, or when the season is unpropitious for root cultivation. As tiie quality of the clay land rises, the intervals between the fallows are lengthened. Principles on which Rotations are Constructed. A clear view of the principles which should guide an agricultuiist in constructing rotations will be best obtained l)y dividing all soils, in the THE C'LTLTIVATION OF FAliM CHOI'S. 021 tiist place, into heavy and li^'ht, or stiff' ami free. The treatment of there two classes of soils is about as opposite as it Avell can be. Stiff soils are essentially suitable for co n or grain crops. Hence In examples of rotations it Avill be found that the proi)ortion devoted to strain in some form is respectively jj, j, and ;. Such lands are called "wheat and bean land," because they are most suitable for these crops. Tlu'V are unsuitable for the «n-()wth of turnips and swedes for two reasons. Firsf, the dilHculty and expense of obtaining a sulHciently tine tilth in the spring and early summer ; iSeamdbj, because it is troublesome, .ami often injurious, to cait off the produce in the atitumn, and certainly in- jurious to consume it upon the land. The underlying reason for both of these litHculties is the plastic character of clay soils. They nuist l)e light- oued up, being already too close in texture. It is fatal to success to plough or work them when wet, and consei|uently hauling or folding sheep upon tlioiii, as in some countries, is sure to be followed by a diminished wheat crop the succeeding year. Now, as the turnip and swede crop are grown with the idea of improving land, and causing it to grow a better grain crop, it is evident that on these stilt" soils their cultivation cannot extend. There are, however, other fallow crops which may bo grown upon clay lamls. All forage crops which are eaten by live stock during the hraseol()gy as " turnip and barley soils," because they grow both crops to perfection. It will be found that one-half of the arable land is usually devoted to each purpose, i.e., grain and fodder crops. They are suitable for turnips, as they arc readily reduced to a tine tilth. A policy of consolidation is noticed throughout the course of cropi)ing. They are often intentionally ploughed wet for grain ; the leas are heavily rolled or land-pressed before wheat is sown ; the young ';rain is also relied m the spring to press the soil around the roots; and the manure is |)re- ferred well rotted. Such land is ploughed .dmllow for grain, and stubble, ftnd haulm or weeds are raked together and burnt, rather than ploughed 522 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCL0P.5:DIA. in. All these precautions have one end in view, namely, preventing " hollowness " and promoting firmness. General Effects of Grain, " Root," and Forage Crops upon thk Land. Grain crops exhaust the land (1) because they are sold off the pre- mises ; (2) because on account of the narrow spaces between the rows, and the length of time they occupy the land, they do not allow of the thorough destruction of weeds. Land long under grain cro;^s is apt to become both poor and foul. Root crops are well calculated to take the place of the old bare or nakeil fallow on a large class of soils. (1 .) They are not sown until May, June, and July; and, therefore, allow ample opportunity for cultivation from the secur- ing of the previous grain crops in August or September until uext summer. (2) They do not thrive unless the land is fine and well-manured. (3) They are sown at wide intervals, and constantly hoed and kept clean during their growth. (4) Tiiey are consumed upon the farm, and therefore koej* up the fertility and increase the manure heap. As the object of the fallow is to clean and enrich the land, it will be seen that its functions are in no way interfered with by the growth of the roots. If root crops were sold (as occasionally they are), they would be even more exhausting to the land than the growth of grain crops. On the other hand, if grain is con- sumed (as it sometimes is) upon the farm, as when peas or barley are ground up for stock, they may themselves be viewed as renovating crop . Fodder crops are understood to be those crops grown for summer keep, and for the sake of leaves and stem, rather than for the root or grain Such are vetenes, r3^e, clover, lucerne, trifolium, and rape. Some of them are sown upon the fallow selection, and others a 'e used to divide two grain-crops, as when clover comes between barley and wheat in the Nor- folk four-course rotation. Others again are mere " catch-crops," or stokni crops, as when rape, or even stubble turnips are taken after a wheat stub- ble, with the intention of providing extra keep in times of scarcity, or in the early spring. With respect to the first use of forage crops, they have been already recommended for clay lands. As to catch -cropping, or the taking of roots after vetches or trifolium, in the same season, we must re- member that by so doing one great advantage of^the fallowing season is lost, becaupe the land is occupied with these two crops from autumn throughout the whole season. This seriously interferes with the propei THE CULTIVATION OF FARM CROPS. 523 preventing UPON THK cleaning of the land. It is a plan often resorted to in order to obtain sheep keep, but it should only be practised when the land is clean, and if con- tinued it is apt to render it foul. Theory of Rotations. )ff the pn;- le rows, and lie thorough jecome both are or naked ,y, June, and )ni the secur- ext summer. ;a. (3) They clean Jurinj,^ lerefore keep of the fallow 3ns are in no pH were sold ig to the land Train is con- )r barley are ^ renovating uinmer keep, •00 1 or grain ;ome of theu» 3 divide two in the Nor- Ips," or stolen wheat stub- ;arcity, or w ,)s, they have [pping, or the we must re- in*^ season i-^ rom autumn Ih the propei 1. When we compare the composition of some of our ordinary crops with each other, we find that the proportion of ash ingredients and nitrogen differ widely. This is in itself a key to one of the advantages of a rotation. If the same crop be grown year after year upon the same field, the soil is called upon to deliver up certain constituents in large quantities, while others are allowed to remain untouched. Turnips remove five times, beans three times, and oats twice as much potash from a soil as wheat. Oats require almost five times as much lime as wheat ; and barley takes twenty- six times the amount of silica from the land as an equivalent crop of wheat. Such illustrations might be multiplied, but the above examples sufficiently show that a succession of crops must be a relief to the drain upon certain constituents. 2. Plants search for their food differently. A plant which feeds in the upper layers of the soil, like peas or barley, is not likely to exhaust land for deeper-rooted crops, such as beans or red clover. The contrast between the root distribution of wheat and barley lias been noticed by Mr. Law:* and Dr. Gilbert, who grew these two i)lants in pots. Only one fibre of barley found its way through the bottom of the pot, but " the wheat threw out such a mass of ramifications that the whole surface of the dish in which the pot rested was covered with a thick network of roots, as also was the bottom, and to a great extent the sides of the inside of the pot itself. The barley roots were congregated near the surface, and were more sparingly developed. 3. Certain plants or crops are especially fitted to precede others. Legu- minous crops, as beans, peas, and clover are, for example, excellent precur- sors of wheat. The reason is that these plants have a store of nitrogen available for the wheat crop, in the form of roots, and through the fall of the leaf during their growth. A good crop of clover assists in securing a good crop of wheat. Turnips and other root crops and potatoes are favourable to the after-success of grain crops. Hence we shall find in most rotations that the succession of crops is determined by the nature of the preceding crop. 4. Certain crops seem to injui'o the soil for other crops. As might be expected, crops simila.' to each other do not succeed well in succession. o24 THE HOME, FARxM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPyEDIA. Rye-gmss is not a good preparation for wheat, and two white straw crop are not, as a rule, likely to succeed. Red clover refuses to grow after a previous crop or crops of the sanu; plant, and it is well known that pota- toes and turnips may be grown too fre(ii;ently on the same field. This may be best explained upon the theojy of rivalry for similar food constituents. Do Candolle, the eminent French botanist, advanced the theory of "oot- excretions, to account for the difficulty of growing certain plants in suc- cession, but the latest investigations upon this sul iect have yielded only negative results. '). Besides the foregoing scientific reasons for varying the cropping of fields and following a well-devised rotation, there are several prartical considerations which confirm their usefulness. (1) they promote cleanli- ness or freedom from weeds ; (2.) They give a continuous supply of food for stock, as well as grain for man ; (3) they divide the labour of the farm over the entii'e year ; (+) give a system to farming o[)erations ; (5) and diminish a farmer's risks. Abuses of Rotations. — They are, however, liable to abuse when un- duly strained. No rotation can be suitable to all soils and to all conditions of the market, and therefore, a degree of latitude should be allowed, espe- cially upon large farms, where soils and climates vary. Influence of Soil in Determining Rotations. — The general out- line of a rotation may be thus drawn : Fallow : grain : forage : grain. The fallow may be naked or cropi)ed, and the cropping of a fallow is ca- pable of many modifications, according to the quality of the land. Simi- larly the grain crops and forage crops will be selected according to the ca- pabilities and adaptabilities of the soil. On the most retentive days wheat and beans will be the predominating cereals, and bare fallows relieved by the limited cultivation of rape, vetches will constitute the fallow portion. On strong clay loams wheat and beans still hold their place, but the falloAv will be cropped with mangels and part swedes, in addition to th'- crops cultivated on the stiffbr clays. On loamy soils any crop is suitable — a fact which makes them particu- larly valuable. Potatoes may be mentioned as especially suitable for thi- class. On sandy loams and sandy soils, white turnips are more suitable than swedes in England, forage crops are very succesful, and these soils beuii; easily worked are kept constantly under crop, and require the consolidat- THE CULTIVATION OF FARM CHOPS. 525 ing action of sheep during the fall. For such soils a system of catch-erop- [fing is peculiarly suitable. Rye and barley will be found the most suit. altle cereals. Calcareous soils are favourable to the development of those crops which require much lime. Among these may l)e mentioned the clovers, vetches, lucerne, peas, and beans. All these leguminous plants are in high favour in limestone districts. Peat)j .s^oiV.s will grow heavy crops of oats, and aie well adapted for the ijvowth of rape, while they .are not suitable for turnips, or mangel. Ihin soils with rock near the surface, although naturally poor, are ca- llable of growing a capital quality of barley, and are suitable for the win- ter feeding of sheep by folding, where climate allows. Detp soils will grow cari-ots well, and are good for almost any kind of crop. All soils are to some degree capable of growing all ci'ops. Therefore we .shall iind it advisable merely to modify a rotation according to the leading character of a soil, and by no means to adhere exclusively to the ckss of crops mentioned as peculiarly suitable. Rotations in practice : — The two-years' course being condemned as too short, led to a three-years' rotation. On good lands it was (1) Wheat, (2) Clover, (3) Potatoes, turnips, &c. ; on inferior soils, oats and barley took the place of wheat. This rotation was favourable for cleaning the land, and yielded a large quantity of manure ; but the proportion of fal- low croj) was too great for economy in working ; and the clover would not bear such frequent repetition. In .some districts the three-years' course was (1) Wheat, (2) Turnips, (3) Spring grain. This was the opposite extreme, as it gave too large a proportion under grain crop; and being found too exhausting on light mk, clover was introduced between tiie spring grain and the wheat, the result being the old standard Norfolk 4-course — 1. Wheat. 2. Turnips. 3. Barley or Oats. 4. Clover. in this rotation the grain and green crop alternate in equal proportions, ■md of the green crops one is a fallow and therefore a cleaning crop, and ''oth are also ameliorating crops. The succession of the crops in this (.curse is also such that the whole of the manure is made use of ; those parts of it which are not fitted for one crop, furnishing nourishment for 526 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOTJEDIA. another. This rotation if practised, more or less, in every country, and is not confined to light soils only ; wheat and mangels on the heavier soils taking the place of barley and turnips. The great value of this rotation is that it admits of endless variation in the cropping, without departing from its main features. Thus, instead of taking turnips every fourth year, interchanges may be made of swedes, mangel, carrots, potatoes, etc. ; and instead of clover every fourth year, a crop of beans, peas, vetches may be taken, thus bringing in turnips or clover at intervals of 8, 12, 16 &c. years, instead of every fourth year, A good example of the five years' course is — 1st year, Wheat. 2nd " Roots and Green Crops. 3rd " Wheat. 4th " Barley. 5th " Seeds. Which, of course, is but the Norfolk course extended by the introduction of a second wheat crop before the barley, a practice which on land full of manure, will improve the barley while at the same time the clover is thus less frequently repeated. The six-year rotations now practised may be represented by the follow- ing :— That with the land two or three years under grass seeds — 1. Peas or Oats. 2. Wheat. 3. Roots. 4. Barley. 5. Hay. 6. Hay. Owing to the increasing cost of labour and tillage, many farmers are now working on one or other of these crop rotations. Three years under grass seeds is common, and by this system half the land is under clover or grass, one-third under grain, and one-sixth under root crop. The seven and eight is that which was adopted at The Ontario Ex- perimental Farm, for the purpose of getting-up impoverished, dirty soil of various physical characters from gravel to clay loam : — 1. Peas. 2. Wheat or Oats, THK CULTIVATION OF FARM CROPS. 527 3. Roots. 4. Spring Wheat or Barley (seeded). 5. Hay. G. Pasture. 7. Pasture. In England this would be — 1. Wheat. 2. Roots. 3. Barley. 4. Peas. 5, Roots. 6. Oats. 7. Seeds. A perfect rotation .should include all those crops which the soil, climate, and situation of the farm will admit of being cultivated at a profit. The conditions which influence the .species of crops grown, are (a) the nature of the soil, (b) the cliaracter of the climate, (o) the kinds of live stock kept, and systems of management, ((/) the demand for certain crops, and the convenience for marketing them. Thus in regard to soils, clays are speci- ally fitted to produce crops of wheat, beans, and mangels ; light soils are favourable to the growth of barley, turnips, peas, and clover ; and peaty soils may yield excellent crops of carrots, rape, and oats, &c. The condi- tions of climate have great influence on the cropping. A dry climate is more favourable to the cultivation of wheat, barley, and leguminous plants, than to the development of rooi or green crops. In moist climates the humidity of the summer is unfsivourable to the growth of wheat, barley, peas and beans, but favourable to turnips, rape, grass, and oats ; while a mild winter is favourable for growing early spring food, and market pro- duce, such as rye, early potatoes. Sec. In a mountain climate the compa- rative shortness of the summer season is more prejudicial to grain crops than to roots and grass. On humid elevations oats are the most suitable grain crop; whilst on dry soils, barley is more appropriate. Again, as to kinds of live stock, and management. Cattle require a greater breadth of straw and forage crops than of root crops to be eaten on the ground ; sheep the reverse. Dairy stock require more of succulent green food than they do of dry fodder ; fattening animals the reverse. ORDINARY TILLAGE OPERATIONS. Whatever the physical or chemical properties of the soil may be, it will produce but little if not well tilled. And what is true in this respect of the best soil applies in far stronger terms to the worst. Apart from its immediate end, the provision of a proper seed-bed, the objects and effects of tillage may be enumerated thus : (1) To stir and loosen the entire soil to a sufficient depth, so that the roots of plants may freely extend themselves in search of food. 528 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS f^YCLOP.EDIA. (2) To pulverize the soil and mix tlioroujifhly its constituent parts, so as to increase its absorbent and retentive powers, anil to efiect an C(iijal and economical distribution of" manure. (*^) To destroy weeds and foreii^ni plants, whieh rob the croj) of food and check its growth. Let us add that, by opening the soil, and rendering it permeable to air and water, the inert materials contained in it, both organic and inorganic, are convertible into soluble plant food. And in regard to many of tho insects wliich prey upon our crojis, especially such as work beneath the suil at the roots of plants, frequent tillage is found to disturli them and hv'uv^ them to the surface, wheie they get picked uj) Iiy biids or die. Tillage operations include all soil operations which apply directly to the cultivation of nirm crops — ploughing, cultivating, harrowing, aud rolling, or whatever else is done to bring land to a proper state to receive the seed. They also include the operations of hoeing and weeding the groum] after it is sown. Plouchinc. — In ploughing we break up the ground into furrow slices. turnino- them over in such a manner that a new surface is ])resent('d to the atmosphere. This or some other mode of loosening and turning up the under parts of soils is necessary to fit them ibr the reception of the seed and the gi'owth of crops. The object of ploughing being to expose the upturned soil to the atmos- phere and to create the greatest quantity of mould the furrow-slices can produce, it follows that the furrow-slice which shows the (jreatesf sarfaci' will answer these ends most effectually. In the case of a .s(piare-cut fur- row-slice this is found to result when it is laid at an angle of foily-live deo'rees; and to this end its width must be to its depth as aW^ut ten to seven. If the furrow-slices are ragged, open and broken, and it", beini; cut of various depths aud widths, they are laid at diti'erent heights, the work is inferior. A uniform depth of tilth cannot be provided by tlie harrow, and the seed will be une(]ually buried. The points of merit in ploughing are: (1) a straight furrow of vmiforin width and depth ; (2) a clean cut slice, both on its land side and door ; (3) a well laid furrow-slice, having regard to compactness and i\>rni ; (4 complete burial of the grass or stubble turned in ; (')) a uniformly ploughed ridwe : (G) a finish showing an open furrow with a clean narrow bottoni. the last furrow-slice being equal in width and height with the others. Cultivating or Stiiuuno. — The cultivator merely stirs the soil and does not turn it over like the plough , but it can work to an ecpial deptli. It is especially useful in a spring fallow after autumn ploughing, as the THE CL^LTIVATION OF FAllM CHOPS. 529" iicnt parts, )o\vers, ami manure. iho crop of cable to air (1 inoru'Jiiiic, nany of the ,eath the suil m ant\ bring rectly to th(.' , aud rolling, o receive the ■.. able lands require the ground to be dry when rolled, if for no other reason than that otherwise the soil will adhere to the roller. Grass land, however, is best rolled in showery weather. Hoeing. — This operation is proceeded with while the crop is growing, and it fulfils two important objects. First, it extirpates weeds and keeps the land clean ; and secondly, it stirs, loosens, and pulverizes the surface soil. The extirpation of weeds is of course indispensable to good cultiva- tion. But the second principle of hoeing is if possible still more impor- tant. Deep and continuous hoeing is wonderfully eff'ective in promoting the growth of plants. It prevents the soil reverting to its natural solidity, adniits air and water, and by breaking and subdividing it, causes it to retain moisture and to present innumerable surfaces and fresh particles to the young roots. The effect is visible in the faster growth of the plants every time the earth is stirred about them. Hoeing, however, can be practised in the case of crops in drills or in hills. Broadcast work is thus incompatible with thorough cultivation, even in the case of grain crops. If horse-hoeing is intended among the grain crops, the drilling should correspc^nd with the horse-hoe to be used. Drilling is equally indispensable to all hand-hoeing. Steam Cultivation.— In many cases tillage by the wealthy farmer may, in part at least, be advantageously performed by steam power. K (1) gives cheaper, deeper, and more efficient tillage than horse power; it (2) enables the work to be done rapidly and at the best season ; it (.'}) en- ables land to be more quickly and effectually cleaned and kept free from THE CULTIVATION OF FARM CROPS. 531 than couM the roots of etachod by jing ttio the soil siniiliU' way cnt free/iit,^ Gi-iuss land Ua<,'e tlie use [iventmg the impy soils, it ■y are lumpy ire difticuU of ither and pre- i-e the ground ■rwise the soil id in showery jp is growing, eds and kee\)s 5es the surface' , good cultiva- "}l more impoi- in promoting itural solidity. lit, causes it to ;sh particles to of the plants In drills or in (rh cultivation, Jed among the [oe to be used, lealthy farmer [am power. ^ lorse power ; it Ison; itO')e^- 1 kept free from weeds ; it (4) promotes good drainage by rendering tenacious soils more friable and porous ; and it (5) not only effects a considerable iliminution in the number of horses, but, by relieving them of their licaviest work, en- ables you to keep those which are still necessary at less expense. Of the two main systems of cultivating by steam, the double-engine system necessarily involves the largest outlay to begin with ; but where the farm is large enough to afford a reasonable amount of work for the tackle, it will cultivate at a less cost per acre than the single engine system. Bare Fallow. — A bare fallow is one of the oldest modes of preparing soil for wheat. The soil is ploughed, and exposed a whole year to atmos- pheric influences, and finftUy sown with wheat. In the case of a clay soil, this treatment would jn-obably lead to the following results : — 1. An im- provement in the mechanical texture of the soil. 2. The disintegration of some of the mineral silicates, whereby potash and other necessary ash constituents of plants would be liberated and made available for vegeta- tion. 3. The absorption of ammonia from the atmosphere by the soil. 4. The receipt of both ammonia and nitric acid from the air in the form of rain. 5. The oxidation of ammonia, and of the vegetable remains in the soil, nitric acid being produced. Tie production of nitric acid is probably the most important result of a bare fallow. In soils at Rothamstcd left as bare fallow, there has been found at the end of the summer 34 — 55 lb. of nitrogen per acre in form of nitric acid in the tirst 20 inches from the surface. Supposing the season of fallow is a fairly dry one, the increase in the available nitrogenous food will probably enable the soil to produce twice as much wheat as it could s accomplished by cutting with the scythe or the new implement called the Pea Harvester, which is attached to an ordin&rv mower, or, when fully ripe, so that the roots pull out easily, with the horse rake. When thus gathered into heaps and well dried, they may I e threshed out and the haulm carefully stacked and saved. The Potato. — The .soils best adapted for potatoes are friable, sandy. and loamy. On such soils potatoes are often grown .systematically and extensively as a staple crop in the rotation ; but on strong tenacious clays with a retentive subsoil they do not thrive. Potatoes, however, havt' a wonderful adaptation to .^^oils of various textures and composition. They do well on virgin soils and turr'y land ; and though subject to be cut down by early frost, and again to suffer in the tops by autumn fi"0sts, po- tatoes are grown imtler a great range of temperature. To produce abundantly, potatoes require a fertile soil, and if not already .sufficiently rich, manuio should be spread on the surface before plougluiiLj. If a tough sod, it should be ploughed the preceding fall, or if friable it may be done just before planting; but in all cases the land should be put in such condition as to be perfectly loose and mellow. Hills are the most convenient for tillage, as they admit of more thorough stirring of the ground with the cultivator or plough. Medium size, .split potatoes havo been ascertained from numerous experiments to be the best for planting, and when seed is scarce, it is sometimes economical to quarter them. Six or seven ej'es should be placed in each hill, or if in drills, the pieces should be planted ten inches apart. The distance both of hills and drills must depend on the strength of the soil and the size of the tops, son)e varieties growing much larger than others. Cover with light mould to the depth of four inches, and if the soil be light, leave the ground peyfectly level ; it cold, heavy or moist, let the hill or drill be rai.sed when finished. Subsoil ploughing is a great help to potatoes. The sets cut from the seed end give a much earlier crop than those from the loot. When the plants first appear above ground, run the plough tiuou^di them, and throw the earth over them two or three inches, and no injury results if the tops are partially or even entirely covered, in Hat cultivation. The gi-ound should be several times stirred before the tops interfere with the operation, but never after they come into blossom. If in drill, use a light harrow just as the plants appear, and afterwards horse hoe when required. Harvesting and Storing should not be commenced until the tops are mostly dead, as the tuber has not arrived at full maturity before tiu^ time. They may then be thrown out of the hills or drill by a plough, THE CULTIVATION OF FARM CROPS. oS9 or the new an ordinary ily, with the they may Vt> •iable, sanily, itiatically an00 of a siniiliU' nip and mangel dlierc, hence tho This operation ed together, ruL- nioistened witli ally and watered k or ten days, or at once he sown. tart of the weeds, tender plants. pulverised. The l1 shoots or forks, frhe plants when 1 according to the sort that is being cultivated. Horse and hand-hoeing shoukl be vigorously carried on as long as practicable. The crop should be ready for lifting by the middle of October. If the weather is line and free from frost, the roots are the better for remain inf a few days in the field before being hauled oft'. They are stored in heaps ami if sand can be readily obtained, it is a good i)lan to mix a quantity with the roots. Hops. — Hops re(piire a rich, and highly manured loam, elaborate culti- vation, a sheltered position, and a suitable climate in order to success. The crop, worth sometimes more than the price of the land annually, pro- vides in successful years such an addition to the revenue of any farm suitable for its cultivation that it is very apt to absorb to itself an undue sliare of the means at the command of the farmer ; and the general agri- culture of a district where this crop prevails is apt to suffer in this way. A .sheltered field, of naturally suitable soil — deep, fertile, and well drained —.should be selected. It is deeply ploughed, subsoiled, and manured in autunm. Cuttings, or shoots of any approved sort, which have been speci- ally i-eared, are then planted in rows G feet apart, 4 being planted in every " hill," G feet apart in tlie rows. Some growers plant two or three liills with male plants in order to ensure the proper fertilization of the seed. Thi.s planting should be done early in spring. The wide interspaces are .sometimes turned to account during the first year in the growth of pota- toes or cabbages. Each hill has a short pole placed near it which is fixed before summer and to which the young vine is tied. There is rarely any produce the first year. The spaces are well cultivated both ways, and heavily manured — the richest farm dung and every available fertilizer being employed in quantities unicnown in the case of any other crop. The ground is cultivated and manured in early spring, the hills severally tended with spud and hoe, useless suckers cut away, and the hills re-poled, this time with throe longer poles to a hill. The intervals continue to be cultivated with a special horse-hoe ; the bine is tied to the poles — per- haps three bines to each. The hills are properly earthed up with shovels- fiul of earth in the end of May. There may be some trinnning and prun- ing required in case of strong growth in June. And the hops are hand- picked as soon as fit, i. e., at a stage of ripeness which is recognisable only by experience. They are carried to the kiln, dried, packed and sold. The poles are then stripped and stacked on the ground or under cover, and they are looked over, and replenished before spring comes round, when they are again required. II 546 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. SoKOllUM Sugar Cane. — Like Indian corn, the sorghum is, in its roots, deep and wide spreading, and like that, requires a thoroughly drained, warm, free, and good soil to promote its sweet Havour — wet and cold soils contributing but slightly, or in a mucli less degree, to its devel- opment. It sliouid be planted, too, at about the same season as corn, and receive frequent and clean cultivation. Heavy, unctuous barn-yard nm- nure should not be applied to the crop, giving it too rank a growth, Well rotted, or compost manures are better, or it may be grown on soils succeeding a crop to which such manures have been previously and lately applied. Lime, ashes, salt, guano, and the phosphates generally, are ex- cellent manures, giving a medium growth to the stalk, and promoting the development of the sacharine juice in a higher degree than the more stimulating kumua of the heavier fertilizers. It is, in fact, a cultivation by itself, but no more intricate, or difficult, than that of Indian corn, the proper land being once selected ; and as a general rule, good corn land will produce good sorghum. Harvesting should be done before the first sharp autumnal frosts. Tha sorgho ripens unequally, or unevenly rather, some stalks being fit to cut a few days before others ; but as it should not be left to fully ripen before cutting, this inequality in maturity, when favourably grown, is of no par- ticular injury. It should be cut near the ground ; the two top joints cut ofi" and thrown aside, being too weak and crude in their sap to add to the quality of the cane below. As soon after cutting as possible, it should be removed to the crushing, or grinding mill, and put under cover from storms, or the drying heat of the sun,and its juices be not tainted by mould, or too much dried by con- densation, to be easily expressed. As soon after cutting as possible, the canes sliould go into the mill for crushing. The grinding, evaporation, and its manufacture into syrup is a process by itself, distinct from its cultivation. Flax, — Flax requires rich fertile land in good tilth, and in clean con- dition. It is generally taken after a grain crop. The stubble should be well cleaned and manured before winter, and grubbed, harrowed and rolled in the following spring, and from six to eight pecks of seed are sown in the end of April, either in rows eight to ten inches apart, or broadcast ; and covered in by light seed harrows. It is of the utmost importance that good clean seed be used. The crop is hand- weeded in May. It gets into bloom in June, and may be pulled any time thereafter. If the finest fibre is desired, it should be pulled before the bolls or seed vessels ripen, But these are generally allowed to get brown and ripe before the crop is THE CULTIVATION OF FORAGE. 547 ,m is, in its , thoroughly ,ur — wet and to its devel- i as corn, and arn-yard inn- ik a ^'rowth, rown on soils sly and lately urally, areex- pi-oiuotinj^ the than the more a cultivation idian corn, the 1 corn land will harvested. It is jndled in hatulfuls, left to dry, tied in bundles, and either at once submitted to ripplin purpose as .against the prevailing summer management of cattle, we call " Grazing.^' It would be easy to bring in the important story of the mv of auxiliaries in both cases, but to do so would complicate and take from the value of the comparison. Soiling, then, is the housing of cattle at all seasons, and distinctively, in our circumstances, from the middle of April to the middle of October, when all their food is taken to them from the fields in place of their being allowed to search for themselves. First, what is our position in Ontario as cattle graziers ? We have not yet secured the rich old pastures of England, rich as our soils are, b(>caiiso we cannot secure variety enough of grasses (which means fifteen to twenty kinds) to give a close bottom and offer that succession of herbage best for the health and growth of animal life. Our droughts, and especially our winters, are against this ; we have rain enough per annum, but it is not distributed sufficiently to give the regular top-dressing so essential to con- tinuous greenness. Here permit the remark that as we have ourselves been the cause of this irregularity of rainfall, and temperature to a certain extent, so it is left to us to make good the balancing of the things in na- ture that have been displaced — how and where the meteorologist and arborculturist will explain by and by, for so pure as we are opening our- selves to the world's public markets so sure are we bound to leave no stone unturned in view of national eminence among them. On an average of seasons, on putting a cattle beast to the field, witliout any grain or cut fodder helps, there is no going back, neither is Mieri much progress in fiesh making; there is growth of bone and muscle, 1 it comparatively little finishing on the outside or inside. So then we can make the frame in the field but not complete it for the home or foreign market. In this respect, therefore, we cannot possibly compete at pre- sent with some other parts of the world. What applies to beef making' applies to the making of milk. With unreliable pastures for continuous progress in beef or milk pro- ductions, the question before us is how can we better ourselves? \\'' have the soil, or soils, we have the indispensable .sunshine, as also the n- regular showers, and all the essentials towards the upkeep of fertilit}' A.. THE CULTIVATION 01 FORAGE. 549 , swamp corner e on our farms- V and little un- will have inucli duty. I )ps used for this ,f cattle, we call story of the \kc be and take from \a of cattle at all 3°middle of April bo them from the jlves. vs ? We have wa soils are, b(>caus'j s fifteen to twenty )f herbage best for md especially our mum, but it is not ^o essential to con- we have ourselves ^vature to a certain f the things in na- meteorologist an.l e. are opening ouv- ,ound to leave no em. the field, witliout ^, neither is ^liev. ne and muscle, 1 it So then we can ,hehomeor{oreigu ly compete at pn" .es to beef inakini: beef or milk pw i Icr our selves ? \S( khino, as ipkeep also the u- of fertilit)' Have we the enterprise, or shall I call it the necessar}' common sense ? Indeed, history, past and present, shows that with such a sunshine as ours, some nations would be in possession of an enormous agricultural wealth, by the simple economy of that sunshine in the production of repeated crops of fodder plants in one season, even from a bed of sond. We want then to secure such a succession, or association of green fod- ders during six months of the year as shall secure the following objects : 1. An early cut. 2. Rei)eated cuttings of the same plant. 3. A sufficient number to ofl'er an unbroken supply of succulent herbage. i. Kinds to differ considerably in their constituent elements. .'). The largest possible produce per acre consistent witli good husbandry and this implies much). G. High fattening and milking properties. I have no desire to lengthen introductory remarks, and shall now sub- mit for consideration, first a diagram, showing what crops, in our present ^no\vledge of things, can be cultivated in view of these objects. In this we have the experience of different parts of (.'anada, and particularly that of The Ontario Experimental Farm. As is well known, all animal life must have a change of food in order to secure health and the best production of fiesh and milk, and so we are called upon to examine the nourishing values of these various plants a.s got month by month. Rich old pasture, with its many varieties of grasses, is not only one of the most valuable fodders, green or dry, as is well known for milk-making, but it also takes a high place as an actual fattener for animals ; for these reasons it is used as a standard for comparing other green foddei"s with and accordingly we shall adopt it on this occasion. If then good pasture, with its full 100 per cent, of nourishing proper- ties, is a standard of nature's making as improved by man for all the essentials of animal life, it must be important to see how far our ten kinds of special green fodders come up to this standard from month to month. Lucerne leads witii '38 ; millet, second, with "36 ; red clover having "31 sainfoin, fourth, with -28 per cent. Three of these in April make a large start, therefore with an average of 'S2 per cent., and it will be observed that all the early croppers are very much superior in their feeding values than those that come after June — millet excepted. There is then a range of no less ^than 'IS — from '20 in 550 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. the case of corn, up to '38 in that of lucerne — and the fact of this differ- ence in feeding value implies corresponding difference in the actual elements of the plants, so that we certainly have variety enough. I shall not labour my paper with any detailed chemical analysis, as I trust it is clear that along with the variety of plants, we have also a variety of elements for all healthy and rapid production of flesh and milk — tlie man of science says so, and practical experience says so. Of course the mean of 29 per cent, over the season is much below the s'^^andard of TOO, and this again points to the help wasted by some form of grain — should higher excellence be desirable, although many good managements consider it really necessary to give grain for milk where green fodders are plentiful and various. We have now, therefore, established two important things : 1st. That Canada can grow the necessary variety and quantity of green fodders. 2nd. That they are well adapted to the sustenance of animal life for the purposes in view. The next question is what is the proper position of "soiling" in association with grain, root and hay cultivation, and what can be done on a farm, say of 100 acres ? There can be no idea of recommending soiling alone .as a separate system of farming in this or any other country, the essentials of life cannot be neglected, nor can the average farmer run the risk of reducing his income by placing all his faith in one or two articles of production only. There must be provision for horses in hay and grain ; pasture for sheep and yearling cattle ; and roots, straw and grain for cattle, sheep and pi;,"* in winter ; and grain and potatoes for family use. By grain I mean wheat, oats, barley, and peas, and roots include mangolds, turnips ami carrots. We have to deal with the following classes of crops in rotation : — 1 — Roots. 2— Grain. 3— Hay. 4 — Pasture. 5 — Green Fodder. The green fodders are divisible into — 1 — Cereals, one-half. THE CULTIVATION OF FORAGE 551 ■ animal life for 2 — Clovers one-fourth. 3 — Foliage proper one-fourth. On soil of an average texture, the best rotation in my opinion i.s ; — 1 — Peas and grain fodders. 2 — Wheat and oats, 3 — Roots and foliage fodders. 4 — Barley or wheat (seeded) and clover fodders. o — Hay. C— Hay. 7 — Pasture. The area of each class on 100 acres would be : — 1 — Peas, 5; grain fodders, 9 14 acres. 2 — Wheat, 5 ; oats, 10 15 8 — Mangolds, 3 ; turnips, G; carrots, 1 ; foliage fodders, 5... 15 4 — Barley, 5 ; wheat, 3, clover fodder, 6 14 5 — Hay 14 6 — Hay and Pasture 14 7 — Pasture 14 100 acres. 552 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP-^DIA. iH rH C^J r-l i-H tH r^ iO >< o X " s ca o I: 03 o -3 < 0^ to ;o •««< ei 00 ?§ ^ iH ^5 ts. 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TS a x; ^ a o o «4 H as ■ —> 3 a . -u S S a is £ 2 ox? 5* a o S ^ a a ^ O - u in c u n *J 5 Li > >» B if H U-i a> 4> ° 'O ^ „ >.-S o.g «'S « jaj 2 T^ '"is §11 O B'S d S " II ■-• E 4> u ?5! fc.a I OQ ai S a o Sao 2 a-S £ o-t-^ ^^ a > bos-a a ^■ OS a) to ■ aa a g o.S ' a * I S-d 2 p* o +3 o « o ^ _a UJ rg **-' 2 fl t! .a "3 a) bfl 3 s9 a a a 5 * o a) a> ^ S '4 9 cj e» 9 9 ~5 2 S - a X 5; x: •*, e Sx35o o-asa THE CULTIVATION OF FORAGE. 553 o <0 • o 3 ^ ^ '-' B ** *** S TO c ** o S 5 ^ ^ s- o d 3 « o >>a B a C «-w g ^ = 2-3 s o a - « *- ® » a " h o — • > « C 2 3 J? "S to * £ * -H. « £ t- Sir .3 ? if' ^ -S »- O ««- ^ ? 1 rt - . 4> - ' .5 (o "•« tJ a * ! 2 :g _! iS S ^ J < tX) 01 rs « .,,■>' : C! "< O & " h .. ' S 2Tl;S a > t-. v^ to ^ p^ ^ - - p o ^. " j- .« ,- S iC a a.p^£ 2 2 S 08 ^-w „ « a S3 a o B'j- «* 2 r: ■ M ™ eS o ^ ■- " " * C s S-d 2 d '-Tj -a "3 B 2 ■" bc S o s > to c V 9 -3 IS eJ -(J « a "5 3, « "Si two cuttings ; two also by two sowings of rape, two from two sowings of millet, and one each from corn and cabbage, so that in all we have no fewer than 21 cuttings from ten varieii?8 of fodder plants. As many kinds therefore as should offer an unbroken supply of succulent herbage (luring the whole summer months, for without tenderness, freshness and regular supply we are not in a position to impress the value of this system upon the average farmer or dairyman. On examining the diagram, there is no time of the six months during which there are less than three sorts on hand, and in some months as many as eight ; and indeed in place of any want, the difficulty during July and August is to k-i^ep up with the suc- cession of offerings before they become woody or matured. It would not be diflicult to add a few other fodders of less importance to this list, and especially to note the fact that on well- arranged farms, where root cultivation is a prominent feature, mangolds are generally in such ([uantity, and have come throtigli the winter so fresh and good, that they are not finished until June — thus, then, a very valuable help to, it may be, the scant early green fodders. I cannot recommend the practice — a very old one, now less necessary — of thinning and feeding the leaves of turnips and njangolds, during their growth, but the system- atic and careful use of both bulb and leaves of those removed to make room for the permanent crop is another thing, and a very important auxiliary to what we are treating upon. Of the various green fodder crops there would be : — Lucerne 8 acres pr odue Sainfoin, 1 (( Red Clover 3 (( Rye Tares and Oats 2 2 i< Prickley Comfrey Millet 1 1 II i( Rape Corn 2 4 i< Cabbage and Kale, 1 1. 20 acres giving per annum. (1 11 « 21 oO GO 10 1. Where land i.s a consideration there is a great saving of it by bein bushels ; Rape; S lbs. 8 — Cultivation : Broadcast, drilling, horse-hoeing. 4 — Manuring: Liquid, Special, Fy. Manure. Essentials : A rich soil, moisture and heat. ^hc f ibc §toiiv of the Jfavm. BREEDS OF CATTLE, The Durham. PARTI-COLOURED race, once spoken of as Tees- water, sometimes Durham, but now almost universally called Short-horns. It varies in colour from dense red to pure white, and is found in all combinations of these two colours. Its skin may be all red or all white, or red and white in separate patches, or the colours may be blended together as roan, which itself may either cover the whole bod}'^ or be distributed in markings on a white ground. Although many of the best Short-lionis have been white, this colour is not commonl}- liked, and an endeavour is generally made to get away from white. Any appearance of black or giey is held to indicate impurity of blood ; yet it is certain that black noses do occasionally occur even in herds of very fashionable breeding; whilst black tipped horns arc a not uncommon blemish. But the breeders ot TUE LIVE STOCJK OF THE FARM. 650 p up — ami le, there is 1 and Sop- ver, "20 lbs.; lel; Corn, :> vm. o£ as Tces- st universally rom dense red itions of tliese all white, or le colours way If may either markings on a st Short-horns 1 endeavour is f black or grey iblack noses do eding; ^^^^''\ le breeders ot Shorthorns are less bound by restrictions of colour than are those of any other variety. The date since which the Short-horn has had a distinct existence has ken disputed. The foundations of the breed were assuiedly laid many years belbre it obtained any universal popularity. It certainly existed in the valley of the Tees quite in the early years of the last century, if not before; and visitors to Durham and York.shire, as far back as 1700, hrouj^dit back wonderful stories of the size, weight, and yields of milk, ob- tained from Teesv/ater cattle. The variety is believed to have been ])ro- duced by crossing a very large white breed (of whose origin there is no very delinite account but which still lingers in places) with some local cattle which the rich pasture, enjoyed through many generations, along the banks of the Tees, had caused to become unusually fine. The brothers Robert and Charles Colling, of Ketton, have become associated with the reputation of the Short-horn to the entire exclusion of older breeders. When in 1820 a connnittee was appointed to obtain pedigrees, with a view to establish a herd -book, the connnittee accepted a connection with Messrs. CoUing's herd as being sufficient to establish the position of any caiKJidate for registration : and comparatively few pedigrees got inserted in the first volume which do not trace to a cow bred by one of the Messrs. Colling or to an animal bought from them. Their names are thus part and parcel of the pedigrees of the entire breed. For some years past considerable rivalry has existed between the ad- mirers of two difierent strains of Short-horned blood — to wit, that derived from Mr. Bates' herd and that which is possessed by the Messrs. Booth. Thomas Bates, of Kirklevington, dispersed his herd in 1850, at which time it was unequalled by any other in existence — magnificent size, straight and broad back, arched and well spread ribs, wide bosom, snug shoulders clean neck, light feet, small head, prominent and bright but placid eye ; hide sufficiently thick to indicate excellent condition, its extraordinary elasticity, together with the soft furry texture of the coat evidenced,. throughout the herd, excellent quality of flesh and disposition to rapid fattening. The Booth family have been long celebrated as breeders of Short-horns^ but of late years their herd has become especially famous, not only on ac- count of the numei'ous honours obtained by it at the national shows, but also from the great improvement which the Booth blood makes in a herd. The far-famed Booth herd was commenced about 1790, by Mr. Thomas Booth, with well selected cows of the then existing Short-horns, which he put to the best of Robert Ceiling's bulls, among which was Twin Brother 5 no THE HOME, FAIIM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/KDIA. to Ben (600). After those he u.sed Son of Twin Brother to Ben Suwarrow, Easby, and the Lame Bull. C' "'^ of the pure " Booth blood" are distinguished by their mellow- ness . depth and width of their foro-(iuarters, and consequent fulness of girth, the uncommon spread of their ribs, their good backs and loins; but they are sometimes deficient in style, and rather plain in the head, and coarse in the horn, which peculiai-ities were brought in by the Leon- ard cross, and came to liim from Thorpe (27 ')7), the sire of Leonard (Lord Lieutenant) having been got by Thorpe. The celebrated Favorite liad something of the same defect, being i-athcr coarse in his horn. The Ducliess tribe, on the other hand, are characterized by a great deal of ele- gance in the head and neck, but this is accompanied with defects, such us barrenness in " tlie side of the chest," " shoulders rough and prominent in their points, and bare of fie.sh," as has been truly said by Mr. (.'arr. On the '^ther hand, to use Mr. Carr's well chosen words, in a Booth animal, " t' ck, fine at its junction with the head, increases rapidly, though not ab , in size until it melts insensibly into the shoulders and wide i)io- jecting brisket, which again blend imperceptibly with the crop, fore-tliuik, and rib.s, without any depressions or protuberances. When the animal walks the elbow joint is scarcely, if at all, seen, and there is no hollow behind it. 1 .^ motion of the shoulder-blades and shoulder-points is im- perceptible, the former being laid snugly back into the crops, the latter hidden by the full neck vein, which blends with the muscles of the shoulder, neck, and brisket, forming gently tapering lines to the head and breast end." Now that the heat of rivalry lias somewhat ojoled down, and that the respective upholders of each of these famous strains of blood are prepared to acknowledge the merits of the other, it is considered that a judicious blending of the good qualities of each would be highly desir- able ; and such a union is, in fact, considered by several eminent breeders to be the very acme of Short-horn breeding, and is being practised as we write, November, 1883. " The colours which belong to the Short-horn are rich red, pure white. and a mixture of the two in great variety, the most fashionable being a roan, more or less deep. A yellov^ish red is also occasionally met with, but it is not so much liked, althouj^h it prevailed at one time in some of the best animals of the breed , Hubback, for instance, was •"'yellow, red, and white." We have no rignt to object, therefore, to animals of that colour, on the score of purity of blood, although wo liave heard it done. Many dislike a white, but this seems rather a prejudice than an objection 3n Suwdirow, ihoir mcUow- quent fulness clcH ami loins; ill the head, by the Leon- Leonard (Lord Favorite htid is horn. Tlu' •eat deal of eio- lefects, such iis d prominent in Mr. Carr. On I Booth animal, idly, though not rs and wide j)ro- crop, fore-Hank, hen the animal ere is no hollow ier-points is im- crops, the latter muscles of the to the head and cjoled down, strains of bloosses, no doubt, period it wafl The •• Suffolk Polled Cattle," known freipjontly as the " Sufiblk Duns," SI) far as their history can be traced, has been a polled breed from the earliest period in the history of the county. The colours usually met with are light dun (hence the above name), red and white, or yellow and white. The hair is fine and silky, the skin thin ; the cows are excellent milkers, the head in some being very fine, and the general outline showing indications of thorough breeding. As milkers, indeed, it seems scarcely to admit of a doubt but they are more valuable even than breeds such as the Ayrshires and Alderneys, which have, or are held to have, the highest leputatiou ; and for this, if for no other reason, that they have not the tendency to "go dry," like the Ayrshires and Alderneys. The steei's have, on the whole, good form, the chines and back good ; they are somewhat deficient in fulness in the front, this being narrow as compared with hind quarters. The cattle sent out by the best breeders to the various shows are such as prove the value of the breed ; few but what are fit, in the words of an eminent breeder from another county, to " go to any show-yard." One peculiarity makes them very valuable to the grazier— their hardness, which enables them to fit themselves for a wide 570 THK HOME, FAIM AND BUSINESS C•YCLOr.^i:DIA. range of districts, and to thrive in Hituations exposed to t'old winds whore other catthi would not do at all. This also hei|)s tlittni to improve evou on such poor pasture lands that would be (|uite unfitted tor the keep of cattle of cLher breeds. The Galloway. In the county of the same name, and holdin;^ the honour of having improved the Norfolk polls, the Aberdeen Angus poll, and even the Short-horn breed, is hornless, with sometimes a small loose excres- cence, or " scur," resembling a liorn. They are black, or a dark brin- dled brown, straight and broad in the back, and nearly level from the head to the rump. They are round in the ribs, and also between the shoul- ders and the ribf>, or the ribs and the loins. Thev are broad in the loins, without any large projecting hook-bones. In roundness of bone and ful- ness of ribs they will compare with any breed, and also in the proportion of the loins to the liook-bones, or protuberances of the ribs. They are long in the ([uarters and ribs and deep in the chest, but not broad in the twist. The slightest inspection will show that there is less space between the hook and 1 ip-ljone and the ribs than in most other breeds, a consid- eration of much iuiportance ; for the advantage of length of carcass con- .sists in the animal being well ribbed home or as little space as possible lost in the flank. The Galloway is short in the leg, and moderately Kne in the shank- bone.s, with a hardiness and disposition to fatten. No breed is so large and muscular above the knee, with room for a deep, broad and capacious chest; the neck is thick almost to a fault. The skin is loose and mellow, and clothed with long soft silky hair, and handles soft and kindly, so much so that even on the moorland farms their hides little indicate the privations they undergo. The West Highland. The best Highland breed of horned cattle is reai'ed in the western part of Scotland. The horns are large, sharp pointed, and upturned, and the colour generally black, though sometimes brindled or dun. The hides are thick and covered with long soft hair of a close pile, which nature seems to have intended as a protection against the severity of the climate under which they are bred, for they lose much of this distinction when reared in a southern country. In other respects they are not unlike the Galloway breed, many of whose test qualities they jiossess, and purticu- THE lAVE STOCK OF THE FARM. 571 winds whore improve evtiu ir the keep of 10 honour of poll, and eVL-n i loose excres- i- a divrk briii- level i'roni the ,reen the shoul- id in the loins, ,f \K)ne imd ful- the proportion ribs. They are ot broad in the 3 space between breeds, a consid- 1 of carcass con- •.pace as possilile le in the shank- ,reed is so large ,d and capacious [t silky hair, and I land farms their I the wt^stom part pturncd, and the dun. The bides |ile, which nature ity of the climate distinction when ,e not unlike the less, and pavticu- larly their hardiness of constitution, beautiful synmiotry, and finely fla- voured flesh. Their strai^dit and level hacks, their round and deep car- casses, and the ([uantity of good meat which they yield in proportion to tlioir size, are most valuable points. Of '.hi:: breed there are several distinct varieties. The principal are the K'jiocs — the aboriginal breed of Scotland, and existing in its greatest state of purity in the Isle of Skye. In Perth and Ross, and Argyle, the pas- tures will bear a larger breed, and it is in the latter county that the real Wi'yt Highlander is to be seen in full perfection. The broad back, the short legs, the fine muzzle, and the black-tipped horns, the quality of the meat, and the quickness of the fattening, will sufficiently distinguish him. The Rev. M. Gillespie, editor of " The Gallowny Herd-book," says, " I think there can bo very little doubt but that the Galloway and West Highland breeds of cattle have sprung from the same parent stock, at a very remote date. There is a close resemblance, even at the present day,, between a well-bred polled Gallovvas' and a West Highland minu3 the horns. Indeed the similarity is so great that when we boar in mind the fact that previous to the close of the eighteenth century, almost all the Ciallovvays were horned, it is easy to understand how any tHtFeience be- tween the two types may have been produced by the ditferent circum- stances in which they have long been placed." The Aberdkex- Angus Poll. There are but three prominent beefing breeds in the w'orld: the Shoi't- liorn, Hereford and Aberdeen Angus poll. Several othois are eminent both in quality and adaptability to parti- cular circumstances, but none of them have proved e(iual to these three in all that goes to make the modern model ox on pasture or in the stall. Angus, or Forfarshire, in Scotland, some fifty years ago, took up the im- portant question of the improvement of its native cattle upon the princi- ples then well known through the success of Short-horn breeders, and ere loni( immense progress resulted. Hugh Watson, of Keillor, was the prin- cipal agent and worker-up of all this. He was un([uestionably the father of not only this bi-anch of these polls, but necessarily, as we shall see, also of that of the Aberdeen line. Those cattle wore hornless, black, good milkers, somewhat stifl' fatteners and good at living on " nothing" upon the some- what bleak rolling pastures of Angus. The stamp of animal now on hand by Mr. Watson's skill and perseverance is consequently very hardy, grand graziers, fattening and ripening early on pasture, and, as a natural result of man's interference, also good as stall feeders. -572 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS OYCLOPiEDIA. The tncn of those parts and times were not indifferent to the illustrious Durhiini, its several [mrchases were already in possession of the more choice farms of the north of Scotland, but, in view of securin<,' the more vahiahlo cliaracteristics of England's famous beefer, along with a hardier consti- tution, or one then supposed to be more suitable to the district, this Angus, or " Keillor Doddie " was established. The growing importance of the Angus breed led the farmers of Aber- deenshire to consider the improvement of their own hornless black cattle, and in order to render this more certain and rapid, they made use of the larger and best specimens of the Angus. William McCombie, of Tillyfuur, stood pre-eminent in this work. His object was to secure a larger frame, and, if possible, a better stall feeder than the "Watson" tyf)e, in short, a "Scotch Durham," and he succeeded beyond all expectation. These breeds had their separate herd books until three years ago, when, in consideration of their essential oneness, in history, points and charac- teristics, they were joined, and hence the new name, Aberdeen Angus. At the present day, therefore, we have a polled or hornless breed of cattle, entirely black, with occasional spots of white on the belly an d udder a deep .square frame, having all or nearly all the details that make up the, modern Short horn. With the exception, then, of the colour and horn, the Aberdeen Angus poll, is practically a Short-horn, but more able to do well on indifferent pastures, is as a whole better built behind the shoulder and arm, and decidedly better in quality of milk and producing good marbled flesh, though not so deep at the pail as the average Short-horn, nor probably so heavy when matured. It is evident from the circumstances under which this breed has been established — those of hill-side grazing, little grain, and plenty of hay, straw and turnips, with severe winters and moderate summers, that for many parts of the world they are superior to tho'Short-horn and Hereford. They have every year during the last quarter of a century so successfully com- peted with all other breeds, that their extension in Britain and impor- tation to most civilized countries is becoming a thing of common occur- rence. The Ontario Experimental Farm ha^ had a herd of them for seven years, having been the first to ^introduce to Canada, and now extensive impor- tation are being made to other parts of Canada, as well as the United States and Australia. In view of the great field now open for the raising of cattle upon the prairies of North America, several importations are being made of the THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM. 0(& J illustrious more choic • t • • ^ 1 1 1 int of locks) gether I •imm THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM. OH Points. 2G. HiND-LEOS, — not to cross in walking 1 27. HooFS,-^snmll 1 28. Udder,— full in form, i.e., well in line with the belly 1 29. Udder, — well up behind 1 30. Teats, — large, squarely placed ; behind wide apart... 1 31. Milk-veins, — very prominent 1 .32. Growth 1 33. General appearance 1 34. Condition m 1 Pei'f ection 34 No prize shall be awarded to cows having less than twenty -nine points. No prize shall be awarded to heifers having less than twenty-six points. Cows having obtained twenty-seven points, and heifers twenty -four lioints, shall be allowed to be branded, but cannot take a prize. These points, namely, Nos. 28, 29, and 31 — shall be deducted from the number required for perfection in heifers, as their udder and milk-veins Ciinnot be fully developed : a heifer ivill, therefore, be considered perfect at thirty -one points. To this we add : One point must be added for pedigree on male side. One point tnust be added for pedigree on female side. Again, the size of the escutcheon, or milk-mirrors, is a point of especial attention. In judging bulls, many of the same points will serve. The head will not be so small, and the forehead must be broad ; the horns must be ti|>- ped with black ; the neck, arched, powerful, but not too*coarse and heavy hide thicker than the cow— certainly not thin — and mellow ; fore legs short and straight, fore arm large and powerful, full above the knee and firm bolcw it. As in cows, pedigree must have two points, one for purity of blood on the male side, and one for pfirity of blood on the female side. Comparison of Breeds of Cattle in Canadian Experience. In instituting comparisons between various breeds of cattle, it should not be overlooked that circumstances of climate, locality, and soil exercise an influence more or less marked upon their peculiaiities, and aptitude for fattening and yielding milk or the reverse. The influence of the parents is also to be taken into account, and the way in which KK 578 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiE these have heen reared and fed, and the age at which they are used, aiif] the state or condition of their health. The breeder if he is to be success- ful must indeed be perpetually on the look-out for circumstances — and these operating in a variety of ways, form a number, so to say, of direct- ions — which are at all likely to exercise an influence good, or bad, as the case may be, on the qualities and peculiarities of his stock. Take, lor example, dairy cows. The same breeders set up one class of animal as the best, to the exclusion of all others, without taking at all intr) con- sideration circumstances which naturally affect their milk-prodiiciiifr powers, just as if breed was everytWing, and food and housing were of no account. The two should, if possible, be made to work together. Breed is good, if it enables the dairyman to get meat out of his food ; but it should be remembered-, that both the quality and the quantity of the milk, and consequently to a large extent of the butter and tfle cheese made from it, depends more — at least largely, as will be generally admitted — upon the food than the breed. It is a fact well known to dairymen that some cows have not the slightest pretension to breed — sd thoroughly mongrel are they — are those which give the largest yield of milk, and that of the best quality, when once they are put under proper feeding and management. As regards different breeds for the dairy, the most comprehensive and systematic accounts from anywhere are those which have resulted from the experiments of Professor Brown of the Ontario Experimental College. His description of breeds in their experi- ence up to 1882 is as follows : I have never seen, in all the necessary detail, a special work on the breeds of cattle most suitable for the dairy and creamery. The discussion of the subject is even not as plentiful as might be expected, amid all the keenness and ability of our Agricultural Associations. Dairymen are either satisfied with what they possess, or, may be, have been waiting for their Experimental Station to say something on such a big, irregular, and largely uncultivated field of enquiry. I think much of this indifferencr is only apparent, and not real, a,s* age has not yet given Ontario opportu- nity to test what, under her conditions, are best for cheese and buttei respectively. To say that we cannot do better than follow what older nations are doing in this regard is admitting that the cow is but a machine devised to produce, irrespective of conditions that, we know, make and unmake higher animal life, and would at the same time be ignoring what we have already done in improving upon the practice of other countries in the making of cheese itself It is our place as a young nation to prove a^' THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM. 679 ire used, and ,0 be success- stances— and say, of direct- or bad, as the U. Take, t'ov s of animal as ,t all int^ con- ailk-pvoduciu<5 Lng were of no LreUier. Breed is food; but it c^uantity of the and tTie cheese 11 be generally well known to 311 to breed— so largest yield of ,ub under proper or the dairy, the r where are those jY Brown of the Is ill tbeir experi- |ial work on the The discussion •ted, amid all the Dairymen are been waitin;,' for Lig, irregular, ami f this inditfevetic^^ I Ontario oppovt"- [cheese and butter , older nations are p, machine devised Lake and unmake ling what we have L ''countries in the [nation to prove a^^ we grow and establish nothing without thorough test — again and again. That this has buen mucli of our work at the Ontario Experimental Farm is well known, and now I have the honour of submitting what various breeds of cattle there have said to the Province during the last seven years — what we get, and what we cannot get from each. And first of all 1 desire to place on record that there exists no such thing as Qeiieral Purpose Coiu, as understood by many of us There is no breed of cattle that will till the butcher's stall, the milk pail, the cheese vat, and the butter can, as each should be done in these days — and must be done in order to the desired success. That some can do so to a greater measure than others we know, but tliat any one can, or ever will do so, and aggregate equal to the average of breeds, is just as eerialn as that cheese is not always cheese. Even the world's work of these times is specialities, and not the one man fit to do many things well. Agriculture is speedily and surely dividing herself into grain, tlesh, and wool, cheese and butter. No two perfect and distinct products, as 7ww required, can be got from any one bred of cattle or sheep under any sort of conditions, anywhere, however favourable. I challenge any one to name a breed of cattle or sheep that gives an annual produce of two things equal to the like class of things, from two separate breeds that I will name. This provision of nature cannot be disturbed by all the science and art of man, and yet few things speak of the " Great Balancer " so beautifully as the well-known fact that when we give proper market value for all the points of all classes of live stock, no one set of them overtops any other to any material extent ; thus, then, it is knowing what we want, and securing it. The (question for Ontario in regard to adaptability of breeds, is not exactly what characterizes them in their own lands, but what they are able to do after years of trial in the district requiring tl'om. No influence is so strong aa climate ; food with Ontario is not a matter of any trouble comparatively, but the ability of individual breeds and animals to with- stand the extreme of temperature is the great regulator of settling down to business. Of course there are in every breed cei'tain inherent proper- ties that cannot be driven out by any form of unsuitability — whether climate, food, or management and consequently we can build upon their perpetuation in a new land, with almost unfailing certaiiity, yet other things submit to physical conditions — invariably deteriorating — rarely improving. 580 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Ontario has had sufficient experience of several breeds to place them exactly either for beef, milk cheese, or butter, and yet we are weak in knowle(ige of others that hold a good name in other countries. I refor particularly to the Holstcin and Guernsey. This Experimental Farm shoiild be in possession of these in view of information similar to what 1 am now about to submit. What are the requisites of a first-cluas dairy cow, is the question before us in this enquiry. Men differ in their likes of individual animals for particular purposes, and much of this will be found to arise from expeiience under various conditions — that such and such a stamp of cow has done well or poorly, with either, where food, management, and the particular class of farm also differ. We forget this too often in compariiiir notes. The cow we want in Ontario for the dairy, on an average of all influences, should combine the following qualities. An early maturer and breeder, giving her first calf when two and one- half years old, not to be a full milker before calving, necessarily, becau.sc of more trouble and deaths ; a particularly warm hearted mother is not wanted — a whole week is sometimes lost by fretting — breeds and in- dividuals differing very much in this regard. We want both (juantity and quality of milk for the dairy and creamery ; the cov/ must be a free milker, as in a herd of fifty the loss of time alone in one season would amount to actually twenty-Jive days. We should have nothing to do with a vicious cow whatever her points may be, as temper affects the very quality of the milk, not to speak of other drawbacks. We want, at least, twenty pounds of milk per day on an average for two hundred days a year. A strict culling out to even this moderate standard woold surprise us as a province. We hear often enough of the maximums, and some- times of the average per season, but never of the miniinums. Specific. gravity is no true indication of milk quality, and we have tried it by nearly three thousand observations on ten different breeds of cows witliin the last three years. More than this I do not require to say at present neither is the 6u^^ or volume — usually called per cent. — of cream ofmucli significance. The weight of the cream from one hundred pounds of milk is the proper criterion, and our model dairy cow should always give eigbt pounds to the hundred. Then again, nearly one-half of that cream should be butter — a high standard no doubt, but as several items that go to make rich milk are largely in our hands, such a proportion can be attained unquestionably, I submit to better experience than ours, what cheese should be got from every hundred of milk — if I said eleven pounds, or THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM. r,81 ) place them are weak in ries. 1 refer mental Farm ilar to what 1 uestion heforc lal animals for to arise from , stamp of cow ament, and the 3n in comparing: 1 average of all jn two and one- essarily, because ed mother is not —breeds and in- Lt both quantity j^ must be a free le season would )thing to do with . atfects the verv Ve want, at least, o hundred days a ^^,\ woold surprise ,nims, and some- .mums. Specific'' > have tried it by is of cows within ,0 say at present : -of creamofwucli ,d pounds of inil^ always give eight ^that cream should items that go to Lon can be attaiueJ lours, what cheese [eleven pounds, oi nine only, I might be asking what the management or the cow may not be able to influence. All these desirable results require a certain machine, which we call a cow. Now, just as wo build iron and wood to do certain kinds of work, Wf find in nature most clear evidence of cow machinery — usually called liKicd, and individual constitution — making very different milk from ex- actly the same materials, under precisely similar conditions. Some remai'kably good cows seem to bid defiance to all sorts of stand- ards of points, but tins does not militate from the value of a standard that is known to average all the virtues of cow life. I have pleasure in drawing attention to a table that is the result of nearly yiw fkousand observations witli ten breeds and grades of cows dur- ing the last three years upon .seven years' experience of the Ontario Ex- perimental Farm, which, though not full, is yet of such extent as must at least interest anyone desirous of reliable information. RESULT OF NEARLY .5,000 TESTS ON BREEDS OF CATTLE FOR THE DAIRY AND CREA\^UY. Breed. Shorthorn Shorthorn Grade Aberdeen Grade .\berdeen Poll Grade Hereford Hereford Grade Devon Galloway Ayrshire Ayrshire Grade Jersey Canadian '53 60 O > o 1570 1450 1300 1150 1340 1100 1050 1250 1000 1030 740 950 P Days. 170 220 170 190 180 200 200 190 210 220 200 240 M a =5 O '31 Lbs. 2550 3960 2380 3040 2340 3570 2800 2470 5250 4400 2500 4800 > or 97 106 111 109 97 106 113 105 101 102 103 95 los 8i 7 4i 5i m n 2 6i 4S 34 6,^ Lbs 88 6 6 H 4i bi 8 6i 8 5 37 8 BUTTEK FRO.M Lbs 41 5 2i 3| 2 3i 34 Lbs 46 40 50J 40 01^ Lbs 12 11 111, 7 Value Per Season op M ? 19 30 18 23 17 27 21 I lljl 39 ....i 33 . ...! 19 Hi 36 S u O 11 10 n 5| Hi 8 21 11 57 in 22 18 16 11 18 19 11 34 uig properties, and I am of opinion that an infusion of new blood is as oiocn needed as in any other breed — not so much a change of bull from any other herds in this coun- try as that of a directly imported one. The Hereford. — This breed has exhibited, a very clear and steady line of conduct all throughout. No trouble in breeding, and no petting re- quired. The Hereford is a good mother, second only to the Devon in our •experience, and ahead of its dangerous compeers — the Shorthorn and Aberdeen Poll. We have been charged with pp.rtiality and lack of practical experience in cattle life, by one of our American critics — especially in comparing Herefords and Shorthorns. This is not true, and I trust will never be so. As responsible to a Liberal Government, and guiding a grand country, it^ ;«)?*-^K'^'':.''. THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM, 587 bull gives a ■rying. But len Poll, and 'vsliire cattle. [bing be said ,ave has to be tive necessity alarly suftkled id twice daily letber on grass continuance of -the great flow attribute this xt ditlerence in y o! grasses se- ntence that the isture, in which ladian, but it is ;am— as charac- Ayrsbirebull •bey do not lose jss witb an Ayv- tage in milking is vigorous and nucn after the ley require good ]erties, andlam as in any other [ds in tbis cuun- and steady line no petting re- -le Devon in our Sbortborn and Ictical experience ly in comparing ]will never be so. grand country, ^\ is, above all things, our religious duty to report just how it is in every case — no colouring, no exaggeration, and no understatement of anything whatsoever. To say more, is unnecessary ; to say less, would savour of want of interest. The Hereford, 1 repeat, has shown an uniformity of conduct quite ex- ceptionable along with the Devon ; without grain, wintov and summer — bran excepted, and the usual treat after calving. The Hereford keeps fat on pasture and in the stable, never falling off, even when suckling. Greedy enough, no doubt — down to the horse manure — not a specialty, as show- ing a want of something, but a consistent looking out for number one. We have no breed, as a whole, nor individuals among breeds, that can touch the Hereford in maintaining flesh on pasture. Indeed, we have cases of too much tendency to covering thu ribs, and taking from the calf ; and a peculiarity of their build is the being deep in calf and not showing it, as is otherwise in most other breeds — the calf also coming, without affect- ing tlie mother's appearance much. The fattening steer, from the Hereford bull and Canadian cow, ia quite characteristic. The marking is strong and unquestionable ; the build is a Hereford in almost every detail, the pig ham (as age advances), the round, compact barrel, longish rumps, deep twist, and the generpl low, chunky set of the whole f imal. The Shorthorn. — We have never treated one ])reed of cattle or sheep differently from another, unless special circumstances demanded it ; thus then, these comparative notes are the more valuable and reliable. I say this, here, because Shorthorn history, with us, has been more complicated than with other cattle ; not, certainly, by reason of want of variety in blood and family, nor everi numbers, to make a good average^for wc have, or have had, plenty of both. With Shorthorn leanings, as an in- dividual, I can freely and fearlessly, nevertheless, record how Shorthorns have conducted themselves with us for seven years. We can speak highly of the milking properties — in quantity and quality — of the most of our cows of this breed, making good calves, or reliable milkers, as the case may have been. We have nothing to say against the sure breeding of the cows, but our four bulls, in these years, have not given satisfaction in this respect. Without exception, they have caused delay, loss, trouble, and extra expense. Why, I am not prepared to say, —two were imported and two Canadian bred ; none were ever in such high flesh as those of some other herds ; indeed we have noted, very distinctly, that those bulls, in best flesh — that is, on the heavy side, have been surer "1 getting than those on the less flesh v side, r>ut, and 1 desire most o88 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. seriously, to make this "but," once and for all, understood, we have never fed Shorthorns differently from others ; if we had done so, this would be no experimental station. Understand what I mean by this. If we have a two-year-old Shorthorn, with a large frame, weighing 1,600 lbs., and a Hereford, exactly of the same age and of a somewhat smaller frame, weighing 1,500 I'w., — we feed them according to weight and size, — a little more to that weighing the most ; this is in agreement with all rules of common sense as well as with science and physiology — not breed, because we do the same thing with individuals of the like breeds : But, we have never fed the Shorthorn, because he was a Shorthorn, nor the Hereford, or Aberdeen Poll, because of th.eir kind. This is the true experimental idea, we think. If, 'tis said, the choice of individual bulls was bad, then the reply is, that three independent judges did so ; if management by want of practical knowledge is charged, then the same management had to do with the other bulls that have stood so well. If the Shorthorn requires, on an average, more drawing-room attention than other beefing breeds, then it had better be acknowledged at once and I don't think their ad- mirers need be ashamed of the fact. We have fattened Shorthorn grades, Hereford grades, Devon grades, Ayrshire grades, and Galloway grades for beef, both in the stall and on pasture, and nothing equals the Shorthorn, in giving that stamp to pro- duce w^eight in the shortest time on Ontario conditions — growth of youth on good pasture, and finishing in the stall. The Aberdeen Poll. — We hold the hor.our of having introduced this breed to Canada as put by Mr. McDonald, the clever author of "Food from the West," as well as the recent work on Aberdeen Polls, and who is also editor of " The Irish Farmers' Gazette." Our experience, thus far, is somewhat irregular : Health and breeding have been very good ; milking sure, in moderate quantity and rich, with plenty of flesh both in stall and on pasture, yet we have to record an in- definite sort of instability, difficult to explain— I speak now of the first im- ported animals and their progeny, not of 1881 purchases. The instability in question has reference to a coming and going of health, especially m summer, as indicated by change of coat and general " staring " of the whole animal, as if going through a course of medicine. Individual ani- mals of any class often do so, as everybody knows, but not a whole liew of one kind. There has been no sickness actually. Some of the indications in the feeding, etc., of cattle, gathered by experiments at the Ontario Agricultural College, are thus aumuiarized:- THE LIVE STOCK OF THE FARM. 581) have never s would be If we have lbs., and a taller iVauie, size,— a little all rules of jreed, because But, -we have the Hereford, experimental was bad, then ementbywant ent had to do thorn requires, beefing breeds, ,hink their ad- 1 Devon grades, he stall and on at stamp to pro- .arowth of youtl^ introduced this lor of "Food from [, and who i« also ,. and breeding y and rich, witl> 1 to record an m- 3W of the first im- The instability Lh, especially ;» V staring" of t^"' Individual am- I not a whole kr^l ttle, gathered by lus summarized - 1. Corn fodder newl}' cut and drawn from the field wlien green, cut into inch lengths, packed into a common rough stone root cellar half un- der ground, and weighted with GOO pounds per superficial square yard, can be preserved, except adjoining such a wall, for an indefinite time in a con- dition fit for animal food, at a cost not exceeding $i per ton, exclusive oi" cultivation. 2. In competition with Swede turnips, ensilaged corn fodder gave fif- teen per cent, less milk, thirty per cent, less butter, and a poorer market- able butter in colour. , 8. DamcKjed Wheat can be very economically used in tlie fattening of cattle. Nine [)Ounds per head per day, gave a daily increase of two pounds per head per day, at a cost of 4},c. per pound to the live weight. 4. Rice Meal, in the fattening of cattle, gave a daily increase of 1-81 pounds per head per day, by the use of six pounds per head per day, at a cost of about seven cents per pound. 0. Barley Meal, in fattening cattle, requires a large amount of other foods in association, and 11^ pounds per head per day gave a daily in- crease of 2'14 pounds per head per day, at a cost of seven cents per pound live weight. G. Corn Meal took the highest place in a daily rate of increase in the fattening of cattle; nine and one-fourth pounds per head daily, gave 2'31 pounds per head per day, at a cost of o^c. per pound of the added animal weight. 7. Pea Meal gave the second best daily rate of increase at the least cost of all the regular cattle feeding grain.s. Eight and one-haif pounds per head daily gave a rate of 2'28 pounds, at a cost of five cents per pound of the weight added to the animal.

9G THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. olosinf^ the books, l)ut allowing all the accounts upon wliich losses and piins liavo been made to remain open until the end of the year. The former method is tlie better one, for the reason that there can afterwards be no dispute among tlie j)artners with regard U) t\w. relative individunl standing of each at the time of the commencement of business under the new copartnership. INVESTMENTS. JI18. Investments are made in several diiferent ways, a few descrip- tions of which are here given : — 1st. — The partners invest equally, and share equally in the losses and gains. After the partners first enter into business thei- interests in the firm are constantly changing, so at the end of the first year, when the books are closed, there may be a wide difference between the then pro- sent worth of each. Tlie partners who ha\e the larger interest in tlie business sometimes require those who have the smaller to pay interest to them on the surplus capital ; but there are some who are more lenient with their unfortunate (but perhaps extravagant) co-workei's, and do not require them to pay interest on the surplus. 2nd. — Capital is sometimes invested against Experience, — the ])artncr investing the money having no experience in the business in which he' enters, and the partner having the experience investing no money. All the money invested is of course credited to the party who invests it, the party who has the experience sharing a certain proportion of the gains or losses of the firm. 3rd. — Partners sometimes invest unequally and share the gains and losses j)ro rata, according to investment. 319. 4th. — Interest on Surplus Capital. — Partners sometimes invest unequally, and share the gains and losses equally, — the partner investing the lesser amount paying the partner investing' the greater, interest on his surplus capital. When this is done, the partner who has the lesser amount invested pays to the partner who has the greater interest on only one-half of the difference, for the reason that it is the same in effect as borrowing so much money; and by borrowing an amount equal to one- half the surplus, lessens the investment of the partner who has the greater amount invested just that amount, and increases the investment of the partner who has the lesser amount invested the same amount, so that they then have an equal interest in the firm. UXNECKSSAnV WORK TAUGHT IN THE BUSINESS COLLEGES. G97 ch losses and year. Tl 10 an afterwards ive individual [1CS9 undor tlio a few descrip- 1 the losses and interosts in ^^^^ year, when the in the then pre- interest in the 3 pay interest to ,ve more lenient •kers, and do not ce,— the partner liess in which he' no money. All invests it, the n of the gains or lO e the gains and 5ometinies invest partner investing kter, interest on [lo has the lesser pater interest on the same in effect lunt equal to one- lio has the greater [ivestment of the 1 amount, so that WHAT A BOOK-KEEPER SHOULD DO IN TAKINd A SKT OF BOOKS FROM ANOTHER BOOK-KEEPER TO KEEP. H'JO. In taking a set of hooks fi'oni ariotlier l)ook-keeper to kfcp, you sliould first take a Trial Balance to asccitain whether or not tho books bahince. If they do not, the proprietors sliould be informed of tlie fact, and that they nmst be made to bahince before proceeding. The next thin*' will bo to look over the index to the Ledly rule the closing lines, and enter the totals between these lines. 11*4*4. It is also unnecessary work to rule Ledger headings, although the Ledger looks a little better thereby, and it might be done when the book-kee; er has plenty of spare time. When we do not rule Ledger headings for tiie accounts opened below the top ruling, we simply writo the name of the account over the centre ruling, and proceed on the next line below with the entries. Some Ledgers arc ruled for one, two, three, and four accounts to the page ; but it is better to liave one common full- page ruling through the entire book, since by so doing we economize in Ledger paper, and have all tlie accounts together. When we open an account, we must calculate about how much s[)aco it may require, and allow so much space before opening another on the same page. Some accounts require several pages, while others require but a few lines. 1)37. Petty AiKountH. — Wo sometimes sell small bills of goods on account to city customers — to person, ^ v/ho seldom buy of us except for cash. Not wishing to open an account with such persons, we enter all such names under a Ledger heading in the Ledger called " Petty Ac- cunts," By so doing, the account takes up one line only. These accounts need not be indexea, but instead we simply index " Petty Accounts ;"' and anything we do not find in the index we will understand is to be found in the " Petty Accounts." W^e keep these Petty Accounts in the following manner : — Under this title in the Ledger we post the entries thus : When we charge a person, we make the entry on the debit side of the Ledger — writing first the date, next the person's name, then the Journal page, tiien the amount. When he pays this account, we write on the same line, on the credit side of the Ledger, opposite his name, the date, page, and amount. (See 7.*}6 to 746.) 338. — Index Arrangement of the Ledger Accounts. — On opening i to . Books or Blot- le " & Oo." may 3 in the Ledger. 3. & S. ISI. Hub- ,u would shnpiy le Sales Book or ipson & Co., and ly write " Scott" bject of so doing irnal ; and as the ts in the Ledger, a in full. le name shoul.l of ,mer, at the time n in full, together loundation. Isines^ houses keep which govern the lore, when a person of business, he h )oks in any other not you liave had kow whether or not (siness ; but siwpb' lie does not expect. neither does he want you to plun;.,'o headlong into the work without first looking over the books, in order to get an idea of the system lie has been using; and then, unless you can suggest some improvements which are at once recognised by him as such, he expects you to conform to his ideas, and keep the books according to the old system. U34. The business here chosen to illu.strate the art of book-keeping, is that of the Retail Grocery. It is thought this business affords a sutiicient variety of transactions to fully illustrate the points set forth in "The Foundation." The principles of double entry book-keeping inav be as cleii'-ly illustrated with a small business, and small amounts, as with an extensive business, ami large amounts; therefore, it is thought best to il- lustrate here the smaller business, ami the less cumbersome figures. In order to see the application of the rules in " The Foundation," the para- irraph numbers should be referred to, whenever given throughout " The Illustration." ttStcS. The books used in this set are: Journal, Cash Book and Led(»er. Paragraph Nos. 12 to 21, inclusive, should now be read, and Xof^. 20 to 48 be committed to memory. The beginner should repeat, immediately before making each entry, this sentence : " Debit what we receive, and Credit what we give," and then make the entry accordingly. 336. The First Half of the Month Here lllustmted.— The first two weeks, the books are kept without Sales Books, — all the sales being re- corded in the Journal. The employes are paid their wages in full at the end of each week, and consequently no accounts are kept with them. (See 203.) 337. The Last Half of the Month Here III nst rated.— The last two weeks^ two Saks Books are kept, and are numbered " 1" ai;id " 2," — the on-account sales are tran.sferred from these books to the Journal, as illustrateil in para- graph Nos. 408 to 416. In business the .sales are, of counse, transferred to the Journal daily. (See i4.) The kind of Sales Books generally used in retail stores is small in size — about 0x12 inches and 4 to 6 quires. These books usually lie on the counters dining the day, Avhen sales are recorded in them, and at night they are taken by the book-keeper, and all orders whieh have been filled and not marked " Paid " are transferred to the Journal in the maaner illustrated in paragraphs 408 to 410. In the la^^t lialfofthis month the employes do not draw their wages at the end of eacii week, but an account is kept with each employ^, which is charged whenever any money is drawn, and credited at the end of the month for the salary allowed. (See 204.) 702 THE HOMIil, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. 3!t8. In order that " The Illustration " may be thoroughly understood, an explanation of same will be given to each entry : for the Journal and the Ledger, on the opposite page from the "Illustration"; for the Cash Book, on the jjagcs following same. The "Ex." prefixed to n paragraph numbersignifies, that what follows, is an explanation of that which fol- lows the original paragraph number. 3!i0. The object in having the Journal ruled in the form here shown, instead^of having the columns all at the right of the page, is : (I) By havinj; the debits at the left and the credits at the right of the entries, the book-keeper is not so liable to post an item to the wrong side of the Ledger. (2) When a Journal entry is made, the debit and credit may both be placed^on the same line, and thus economize! in paper and make the entries more compact. (3) The book presents a better appearance in being thus arranged. 340. A Journal ruled in tlie common form may be used for this system by either ruling an extra money column on the debit side of the book and two L. F. (Ledger Folio) columns — one on the left side and one on the right; or, by dispensing with the " Mdse. Dr." column, and simply rulinij the two " L. F." coluums ; then, by using the column at the left which was originally intended for the date, for a " Miscellaneous Dr." colunm, writing the date in the centre of the page. If the latter method is adopted, the " Mdse." debit items must be entered in the " Miscellaneous Dr." column and posted to the Merchandise account in separate entries, the same as other debits are posted to their respective accounts. 341. In order that the beginner in the practice of book-keeping may know what entry to make, how to make it, and what explanation to write, it is thought advisable to insert here an INDEX TO TRANSACTIONS. Accept Time Draft drawn on us, .'{SO-lWl. Accej)t Time Draft drawn on ua by a creditor in favour of a third party, 4.'{3-4;i4. Borrow money and give note ther for, 505. Buy Bank Shares, 517. Buy Mdse. and pay cash therefor, 519. " ou account, 401 to 107. " " and give note therefor, 459 and 444. " " and accept time draft therefor, 403, 380-381. Buy Produce from farmer for casli, 519. " " " " on account, 380. Buy Store and Office Fixtures, and pay cash therefor, 511, 514, etc. Buy 8tore and Oliics Fixtures, and give note therefor, 31)0-31)1. Charire Interest on an account, 382-383. Charge R. R. Co. for overcharge on Freifjht, 393-394. Compromise for full settlement at a certain per cent, on the dollar, 500, 450 and 431. Discount note bearing interest, 495 and 490. " " not bearing interest, 489 and oO'V Draw Sight Draft and have same paid by the person upon whom drawn, 492. Draw Time Draft and have same "accepted" by the person upon whom drawn, 303, 'M and 33L INDEX TO TRANSACTIONS. 703 ,ly understood, le Journal and '; for the Cash to a paragrai^h ihat which fol- rm here shown, .ge, is : (I) By I o£ the entries, ong side of the and credit may paper and make ur appearance in d for this system c of tlie book and 3 and one on the ,nd simply ruUng ihe left which was ■ " column, writing od is adopted, tlie lieous Dr." column tries, the same as Enter Mibe. sales from Sales Books, 408 to 416. " Kmployd.s' salaries, 453 to 4.")7. " total Mdae. Dr. and Cr. at end of month, 469 and 470. (live Attorney an account to collect, 441-412, a note to collect, 417-418. (iiye a ; erson a check on account, £44. " " note " ;J96397. Give a creditor an order on a debtor for goods, 431-432. Give a creditor a sight draft on a debtor, 439 410. Have carpenter work done on store fixtures, 399 400. Loan money and receive note therefor, 542. Make payment on our note, 543. Md^e. returned to us on account, 376 to 37?. Our customer discounts bill and pays cash, 497 and .534. Pay cash for Advertising, 52t'). Pay our Acceptance (or Time Draft), 524. Pay Bank ('oUection charges, 523. Partner draws money for private use, 540, Pay for Exchange, 533. " items of Expense, 507, 518, etc. " Insurance, 508. Partner takes Mdse. for private use, 395. Pay private bill for partner, 541 and 546. Pay Si^ht Draft drawn on us, 527. Receive cash on account, 499 and 504. Receive note OS. Toronto Tobacco Co. Samuel Oupjjles a, Co. Baker it Co. J, II Goodwin, Stock ace.--.ye( in- vetitment. S. A. KXIKHSON'S INVESTMENT. Sundrie» Dr. to S. A. Emerson, Stock acc't. Cash— Balance on hand. Bills Rec— Note, Hugo Smith,ll-14 80, 30ds 2. Kd. Russell, Dr. 5 lbs. Kio Coffee, 20c. 1 00 lib. Y.H.Tea,70c. 81bs.A.Sugar,1.00, I 'lO 4Ui 1 0(1 ; 2 cans B< aches. 20c. 1 gal. Syrup, 7uc., 1 Broom, 25c 00 1 1 1 40 60 46 60 44 345- Alex. Pollus, Vr 4 bbls. Apples, 3 OO Bills Rece'vablo Dr. to O. W. Rpiinett. Kec'd his ncU) at 9u df. iv^iii jj-1 bo. Alex. DoUuB, Dr. 1 kef; Holland Hcrrinjjs, 1 26 1 sack .\.\ Klour, 1 5u 2 doz. Uianges, 40c., HO IMdae. Dr. to Sundries. Ed. Kussill, 1 can Poaches, ret'd, Alex. Dolius, 1 keg 11. Herrings, ret'd, G. W. Eorlind & Co., Dr 6 kegs HoiUnd Herrings, spoiled, @ 1 00 8. ArbueklH Bros. Dr. to Bills Payable, Ace. their L'ft at fcO ds. from l2-3-'<0. Frank Richardson Dr. to Interest, lut. on acu't to date. Mdse, forward. 41 41 45 45 45 40 40 44 34 6. 44 44 41 42 640 500 340 344 2a0 .3500 3600 200 00 00 I i 00 40 00 00 00 00 218 2 347- 4 10 12 j 00 I I 3 i 55 24 6i 00 THE EXPLAXATION OF THE JOUKNAL. 705 EXPLANATION OF THE JOURNAL— OPPOSITE PAGE. isccll. Cr. 34 6- Mdae. Cr. 34 7- 12 200 00 218 00 THE COLUMNS. Ex. 342 and 347. — These are the eohimns referred to in paragraph 12. In the Mdse. Dr. colunm is entered all merchandise bought oy us and re- turned to us ; and in the Mdse. Cr. column is entered all the merchandise sold by us, and returned by us to other part'cs. (See (i7 to 70.) Ex. 343 and 340. — These are the columns referred to in paragraphs 39 and 40. All debits which are not Mdse. debits are entered in 343 column ; and all credits which are not Mdse. credits are entered in the 340 column. In posting, ive 'post only the items found in these columns. Ex. 344 and 345. — These are the columns referred to in 325 and 340. When we have posted an item to the Ledger, we indicate the page to which it is posted in these columns. So it will hereafter be understood what the figures in these columns indicate. These figures also show the book-keeper where he ended his posting. Ex. 347|. — In order that the beginner may be prepared to "encounter" any set of books that is presented to him, it is thought best to give here a siemingly complicated example. When partners first enter into business, they usually invest all cash, or cash and note — the entry then is a very simple one, and is made in the manner represented in paragraphs 307, 308 and 309 ; but, when one of the partners has been engaged in business and takes in a partner, the entiy then is more dithcult and comi)licated, — such an example is here presented. Goodwin has been engaged in the Retail Grocery Business, and on the first of December, 1880, takes in as a part- ner S. A. Emerson. The proceedings for opening the books for the new firm, are described in paragraphs 311, 310, 317 and 49. In clianging a set of books from single entry to double entry the entry in the Journal would be made in the same mamier as the example here illustrated, with the ex- ception of the personal accounts, which amounts would ali'eady appear in the Ledger and of course would not reijuire posting unless a new Ledger was opened, — then they woidd have to be transferred. It is presupposed, in this set, that when the new partner (Emerson) is taken in, a new .set of books will be opened; hence all of Goodwin's old accounts are transferred to the new Ledger. THE ENTRIES. Explanation of Goodwins Investment — Ex. 348. — Cash on hand trans- ferred with Emerson's $2,500 to the Cash Book. (See 485.) Ex. 349.— Goods in store. (See GO.) Posted to 584. ss 24 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Ex. 350. — Counters, shelves, desks, chairs, etc., in store and office. (See 92.) Posted to 592. Ex. 351. — Coal on hand which was debited to Expense account when bought. (See 195.) Posted to 644. Ex. 352, 3, 4 and 5. — These are personal accounts owing to Goodwin. (See 104 and 173.) Posted to G88, G91, 702 and 704. Ex. 350 to 300. — The.se are unpaid notes held by Goodwin again.st these persons, — with the date and time upon which each is drawn affixeil. The 11-18-80, 30 ds, signifies the note was made on November 18th, 1880, on 30 days time. It is not necessary to add, in an explanation to an entry, whether or not the note is made ivith interest, as the Bill Book shows that. Goodwin endorses these notes over to the firm, Goodwin & Emerson. (See 107.) Posted to 002 to 606. Ex. 301. — This is a Time Draft, which was drawn by Arbuekle on Good- win, and by Goodwin " accepted," and being not yet due on December 1st, is still unpaid ; therefore, the same in etiect is an outstanding note. (See 129.) Posted to 033. Ex. 302. — This is an unpaid note owing by Goodwin to Thurber & Co. (See 129.) Po.stcd to 634. Ex. 303, 4 and 5. — These are personal accounts Goodwin owes. (See 174.) Posted to 749, 751 and 753. Ex. 300. — After thus having made a record of all his present Resources and Liabilities, Goodwin now find the difterence between the sums total of each, which difference is found to be 83,500, which amount is his net present worth, and this he credits to his Stock account. (See 49.) Posted to 504. Explanation of S. A. Emerson's Investment. — Ex. 368. — He invests cash $2,500, and the amount, together with Goodwin's $500, is posted to the debit side of the Cash Book. (See 75 and 70 ; also 485.) Ex. 309. — Emerson holds a note made by Hugo Smith, payable to him, for $1,000, which note is endorsed by W. Scott, who guarantees the pay- ment. Emerson endorses this note over to the firm — Goodwin & Emerson — when it becomes the firm's property. (See 107, 116 and 117.) Posted to 607. Ex. 367. — As Emerson has no Liabilities, his Stock account is now credited for the sum total of his Resources — $3,500. (See 49.) Posted to 569. Ex. 370. — Russell buys goods from us on account, so we debit him in the " Miscellaneous Dr." column. It is not necessary to make a formal Journal entry, thus : " E. Russell Dr. to Mdse.," before proceeding to make THE EXPLANATION OF THE JOURNAL. 707 )ffice. (See :count when to Goodwin. acraiiist these affixed. The I8tb, 1880, on n to an entry, ,ok shows that. Emerson, (i^ee »uckleonGood- -vUocemher 1st, ing note. C^^^ ) Thurber & Co. svin owes. (See ^resent Resources \n the sums total u^^ountishisnc't [(See 49.) Posted ,__He invests cash r is posted to the i payable to him, larantees the pay- lodwirx&E^^^^-^"^, account is now ,ee49.) Posted to v;e debit him in ito make a formal loceeding to make a record of the goods we sell to him ; but proceed in a common-sense man- ner by simply writing : " E. Russell, Dr. ; " then on the next line begin with the items, omitting the " To" which is by many prefi.xed to the items. " Red Tape " does very well for the army and navy, but the business man has no use for it. After all the items have thus been entered, the total is found and that amount is extended into column 347 to the credit of the Merchandise account. (See 371, 08 and 1G5.) The debit to Russell is posted to 707, and the credit to Merchandise is not posted until the end of the month, and then it, with all the other merchandise sales, is posted to the credit of Merchandise account in one entry. (See 470.) Ex. 372.— Same as 370. Posted to 714. Ex. 373 and 374. — Bennett is owing us $304. He gives us a check on the bank for .$104, which is entered in the Cash Book ; and a note at 90 days for the balance, which is entered hero ; Bills Receivable account being debited for the note received and his account credited, with all the expla- nation that is required following on the next line. (See 108, 113 and 171.) 373 is posted to 608. 374 posted to 096. Remember that nothing is entered in the two outer columns except viercluindise items. Ex. 375.— Same as 370. Posted to 715. Ex. 370, 377 and 378. — These parties having found that the goods they bought of us were spoiled, now return them. We give them credit and debit Merchandise in column 342. (See 370.) The credits to Russell and Dollus (377 and 378) are posted to 710 and 719 ; and the debit to Mer- chandise is not posted until the end of the month, when it, with all the other Merchandise debits entered in this column, is posted to the debit of the Merchandise account in one entry. (Sec 09 and 108 ; also 409.) When goods are returned to us that were sold for cash, and we return the money for same wo may either take the money out of the sales drawer, and thus make the sales for the day less, or take it out of our regular cash drawer, and debit the amount returned to Merchandise on the Cash Book. Ex. 379. — When the keg of herrings is returned to us by Dollus, as spoiled, we examine those remaining in our stock, and find there are in all 5 kegs of same spoiled ; so we return them to the firm from whom we bought them, G. W. Boreland & Co., charging Boreland and crediting Merchandise. (See 178 and 70.) Posted to 775. Ex. 380 and 381. — We are owing Arbuckle Bros. They draw on us at CO days from Dec. 3rd, 1880; we write " Accepted," etc., across the face of the draft, and return it to them, and by so doing pi-omise to pay them in GO days from Dec. 3rd, this amount, which is the same in effect as giving 708 THE ILLUSTRATION. 63. Md8e. Dr. 3BS. 1 3ti6. 16 387. 388-389. 390-391. 392. 393-394. 390. 390-397. 398. 399-100. 401. 658 402. 403. 404. 406. 406. 407. 408. 409, 410. 411. 412. 413. 414. 41D. 416. 417-418. 419-42a 61 676 96 JOURNAL. December 9th, 1882. MlBColl. Dr. 10 100 160 189 3 4 7 2 42 •22 6 32 100 100 14 60 80 00 00 36 00 65 SO 00 00 23 85 60 86 40 40 19 00 00 L. F. 44 41 41 44 46 40 46 46 41 44 40 45 44 44 45 44 45 43 46 Mdge. forward, M(1bo. Dr. tfj EU. Kussell, 50 duz. KfTKH, 2(10. 20 lbs. Uutter, :iOc. Kil. KuKscll, 3 hblH, »alt, 2.00 1 bbl. Flour, 10. 10 00 «00 Dr. eoo 4 80 11. Bills Receivable, Dr. to Fr.ink Richardson. lit- accepted our U'ft at UO ds. (ruiu 12-8-bO. 13. Store & Office Fixtures, Dr. to Billa Pa.vn.ble, OaveTaylor'8 8afe Procter & Gamble Dr. to Bills Payable, Sent note at 60 ds. from 12.3-80. L. F 44 10. G. W Borland & Co., 20 Empty Boxes, Dr. 15 Store and Office Fixtures Dr. to F. Burgess, Fur making new shelves. Mdse. Dr. to Sundries. J. K. Armsby & Co. Arbuckle Bros., 00 ds. B. T. Babbitt, 30 ds. O. W. Borland & Co. Toronto Tooacco Co. , 60 ds. Sprague, Warner a Co. 17. Sundries Dr. to Mdse., Frank Burgess, S, A. Emerson, R. N Buck, Ed. Russell, Alex. Dollus, H. S. Colo. G. W. Bennett, Wni. Dorman, 14.60 6.26 13 67 H. L. Richardson, Att'y, Dr. to Bills Rec. Gave him for coll. S. A. Fisher's note of Oct. 12-80 at 60 ds. IS. J. K Arrsby & Co. Dr. to Ed. Russell, For Acc't— Sales of Cheese reported by Armsby for acc't of Russell, Forward, 44 41 42 41 44 46 3 46 (i 46 2S.40 17.85 1 2 14 46 11-2S 45 7 46 1-43 44 44 44 1 2.6J 1 2-51 1 41 44 Miscoll. Cr. 16 190 160 00 00 00 189 00 80 00 19 I 85 218 60 120 00 46 64 89 100 00 14 60 Mdi«. Cr. 24 65 10 SO 85 2 55 00 223 i 53 271 88 THE EXriANATION OF THE JOURNAL. 709 sell, r. 00 Or. 2il 05 10 80 180 30 2 I 65 19 186 •ng 1 60 iio 1 00 4« 25 «4 1 19 b9 1 62 223 1 53 too I 00 14 \ 60 271 them our note ; therefore, we debit them rikI credit Hills Payable. (See 182, 132 and l.'J.'i.) 380 posted to 754. 3.S1 posted to G35. Ex. 382 and 3M3 — Richardson is owing us an account which is long past due, so we charjfo him interest and draw on him at 90 days for the amount of his account and interest. The interest is charged here, but no entry is made of the draft until it is returned. (See 1.51 and H2.) 382 posted to 70.5. 383 posted to GG4. Ex. 384" and 38.5. — When a Journal page has been filled, the totals of the Mdse. Dr. and Mdse. Cr. columns are found and carried forward to the following page ; arid thus the totals are carried forward from page to page until the end of the month. Ex. 38G. — Russell is a farmer, and brings produce into market ; we buy it from him and give him credit on his account. (See 67 and 17'5.) Po.sted to 711. Ex. 387.— Same as 370. Posted to 708. Ex. 388 and 389. — The draft we drew on Richardson December 8th is now returned to us " accepted " by him. This draft having been acce])ted by him and returned to us, is the same in effect as though he had .sent us a note ; therefore, we debit Bills Receivable and credit Richardson. (See 114-, 11.5 and 172.) 388 posted to GOO. 389 posted to 700. Ex. 390 and 391. — We buy a safe from T. S. k, L. Co., an<] give therefor our note at 30 days. Debit Store and Office Fixtures for tlie safe we receive, and credit Bills Payable for the note we give. (See 93 and 130.) 390 posted to 505. 391 posted to 63G. Ex. 892.— Same as 370. Posted to 723. Ex. 393 and 394. — The Railroad Company charged us 5 cents per bbl. too much for freight bill of recent date for 20lbs. Sugar. We are not allowed to deduct the over-charge from the bill and pay the balance; but are obliged to pay the full amount of the bill ; then we may make the claim to the Railroad Company, — charge them, and credit Freight and Express. If they do not allow this claim after we have thus charged it, we are then obliged to debit Freight and Express, and credit them — thereby undoing the charge first made. (See 20G ) 393 posted to 736. 394 i)osted to 650. Ex. 395. — Emerson takes goods from the store for his private use. (See 59.) Posted to 577. Ex. 396 and 397. — We are owing P. fc G. on account for a bill of goods we bought from them on GO days. On the 14th of December we write a note and send it to them, dating the note Dec. 8th, 1880^— the date of the bill. (See 181, 130, and 131.) 396 posted to 761. 397 posted to 637. 10 64. THE ILLUSTRATION. JOURNAL. December Slst, 1882. Milie. Vt. 431. 422. 423. 424. 420. 436. 67S P9 437. 2 10 428. 429. 430. 431-432. 433-434. ■iJwwiiB'a,A-. 43 1 430. 437. 438. 439-440. 441-442. 443. 444. 441. 4%6. 447. 448- 449 460-451- 4«2 678 Uliicall. Dr. 60 66 178 23 23 12 4 20 84 OU S 10 28 45 6 «4 S 12 42 00 14 HO 4& 12 20 00 28 45 11 12 7 80 100 116 Co 64 69 06 241 76 00 97 00 L. 41 44 45 44 4f) 44 45 4U 4.') 4.") 45 46 46 41 44 45 45 46 43 46 45 41 47 Forward, Bills Receivable Dr. to Hundrle*. UilU Koc-Uia N. tc, }A. Kuduoll, 200.00, paid 50.00, 1118-»0, 30, Intercut on ahove, K(l. KusHell, bal. on acc't, Ituu'd (iilluwini; drscrihed noton from Ed. UiLuell to balance old uote, iut. and acc't: Dec. HI-BO, HO (Ih., |IOO 00 " 00 dg., 78 23 Sundrlea Dr. to Mdsa. Hennott, 1-68 Adolph Piper. iMllllM. H. M. Dickinson. UenJ. Uoodwin, Jr. KiinTKon, 60 (> Caineron. W C. Lj iiiiui, 73 Diifforln ave., 6(i Turn Keuiio, 320 Church streut, 62 Md.-io. Dr. to Sundries. Bennett, C.B.— 30 Lynian, Dollus, S. 23. a. W. norland fi Co. Dr. to O. W. Bennett, Oave Borland order on Bennett for dr, (.'ood.-t, dated Dec, 23-82. Sprajf uo, Warner & Co. Dr. to Bills Payable. Aoc their D'ft 30 ds. from 12-20-82, favoi uf Thompson & Risley. Bills Receivable Dr. to Sundrieii. Bills Ro(i.— Old Note, A. T. Porter, 30 (U 11-20 82, Interest on above, Keij'd note at 60 ds. from Dec. 23-82, fo 1^211.70, to renew old note and iut. 24 Sundries Dr. to Mdse. Dollus, 8-64 Kcune. Lyman, 65 J. K. Armsby & Co. Dr. to Alex. DolluB, Gave Armijby S't D'ft on Dollus. H. L. Richardson, Att'y, Da toWni. Dorman, Oave him Doraian's acc't for collection. 25. Sundries Dr. to Bills Payable, Arbuckie Bros.— Sent note fiO ds. 12-18-82. B. T. Babbitt- •' " 30 ds. 12-14-82. TorontoTobaccoCo."Aoc'tD'ft60d3.U-28-82. 27. Bilh Receivable Dr. to Sundries. Rec'd foilowin;^ described notes : Frank Bur(;esj— Note fiO ds. 12-2.')-82. W. C. Lyman— Note 30 da. 12-27-82. Lost Acc'ts and Notes Dr. to Sam. Hurto, Compromised with him for (K) cents on tlie dollar. Uis acc't $103.50. Lost 40 per ct 28. Mdse. Dr. to 0. W. Bennett, C.B.-49. Forward, L. 41 42 44 44 45 44 44 41 41 42 MIscelL Or. 150 1 C 44 45 41 44 43 43 44 20 28 240 1 50 100 276 30 20 65 00 45 60 HdM. Or. 271 88 204 52 80 b( 600 99 THE EXl'LANATION OF THE JOURNAL. 711 sell, r. I I ou ■a MdM. Cr. 271 1 88 204 62 50 t 00 00 20 00 28 45 2-10 1 00 7(i 80 o( 50 I 00 100 00 275 69 3fl \ 03 : 20 94 I 65 00 Ex. 398. — Tills firm buys of us empty hoxes, nnd as the cases or boxes are usually clmr<,'od to us ou tho bills of goods wo buy, and are conse- quently entered by us as merchandise, we must now cretlit Morcliandise. Posted to 77G. Ex. 39!) and 400. — Frank Burgess, our customer, is a oarponter, and wo employ him to make for us some new shelving, for which shelving we allow him $4. This amount he wishes credited to his account, so we debit Store and Office Fixtures, and credit him. 399 posted to 59G. 400 posted to 720. Ex. 401 to 407. — It is now the middle of the month ; therefore, we take the invoices which have accumulated since the first, arrange them in alphabetical form, and enter them in the manner hero illustrated. The <,M_n_o" j^jjj "~^" in paragraph 402, is but an abbreviated way of indicating Dec. 2nd, 1880, $14.00, and Dec. 13th, 1880, i?').'^.^,— these being the dates and amounts of bills we bought from Armsby. We sometimes enter a great many bills for a firm, and this way of entering them is then found to be a p"roat convenience, as much time and much Journal paper is saved by so doing. (See 400 for a better example.) When there is only one bill, we simply write the day of the month on the end of tho line, as in 403, for Dec. 3rd, — i.e., if the bill is dated in the 'present month ; but if dated in the previous month, we indicate the mouth and day as in paragraph 400 for Nov. 28th. If the time on which the goods were sold is given, we add the same after the name, as in paragraph 403, etc. After the bills have all been entered, we find the sum total of them, and enter that amount to the debit of Merchandise in the " Mdso. Dr." column. (See 309, 331, and 175.) 402 to 407 posted to 700, 707, 750, 759, 778, 779, 750, and 783. Ex. 408 to 410. — These are charges transferred from Sales Books 1 and 2, referred to in paragraph 337. It is not thought necessary to give, in this work, the form of the Sales Book, as an entry made in this book is made in precisely the same form and manner as in paragraph 370, and when transferred to the Journal, simply the amount, person's name, number of Sales Book and page is taken. When we wish to refer to an original charge, we turn to the Journal, and here find the book (Sales Book) and page upon which the sale is recorded. In this example, 409 to 412 are transferred from Sales Book 1, and 413 to 410 from Sales Book 2, — the pages upon wliich such chai'ges are made being added. (See 14.) Having entered all the charges from the Sales Books, we find the sum-total of them all, and credit Merchandise in the " Md.se. Cr." ll 608 199 :i2 THE ILLUSTRATION. JOURNAL. €5. December 21st, 1882. Mdae. Dr. Miscell. Dr. L. F. Forward, L. F. Miscell. Cr. Mdae. Or. 678 66 606 1 99 453. 72 60 42 Salaries Dr. to Suiidrles. For (J) month of De.., 1882. 464. M. W. Saxton, 43 25 00 MS. Jaa. Kiiisella, 43 20 00 466. F. P. .Ma.st, 43 20 00 467. Herman Smith, 43 7 60 468. 493 89 Mdae. Dr. to Sundries. 459. Arbuckle, CO ds. 18 CO 30 60 43 146 00 460. Armsby, 20.00 14.30 12.90 15 17 13 • 5.40 2.7y 11.00 6.70 20 23 27 29 4G 47 26 20 49 461. Babbit, 30 ds. 14 40 65 50 462. 12.00 7.40 Borland, 17 28 46 19 40 463. Procter & Gamble, 60ds., 8 46 189 80 464. 1 The following amounts, on accounts and notes), arc this day by us considered worth, less; and are therefore charged to Lost Acc'ts and Notes : 465. 78 45 1 47 Lost Acc'ts and Notes Dr. Sundries. 466. Alex. DoUuB, 44 32 61 467. Bills Rec. W.'C. Lyman's note, Dee. 27th, '82, 30 ds.. 41 20 94 468 H. L. Richardson, Att'y. William Dorman acc't. 43 25 00 469.1.072 55 40 :dse. Dr. Total for Dec, 1882. «70. |« Q^ U <• <• 40 506 9» THE EXPLAXATION OF THE JOURNAI* 713 500 99 25 00 20 : 00 I 20 00 7 I BO column for the amount. 409 to 41G posted to 724, 578, 737, 70!), 71G, 738, G92, and 734. Paragraph.s 411 and 414 are petty accounts referred to in paragraph 327. Ex. 417 and 418. — Fisher's note was due on the 14th instant, but he failed to pay it, and, as there seemed to be poor prospect of our collecting the account, we hand it over to our attorney, Richardson, for collection This note was debited to Bills Receivable account, so we now credit Bill,^ Receivable, and debit Richardson. (See 202 and 2G4.) 417 posted to G84. 418 posted to G21. Ex. 419 and 42^. — Russell, the farmer, sent to Armsby, the commission merchant, cheese to be sold on commission, with instructions to pay the proceeds of the sales of same to us. As we are owing Armsby & Co., they render to us an account -sales, and re(piest us to give Russell credit for the amount of same. We then debit Armsby and credit Rus.sell. 419 posted to 7G3. 420 posted to 712. Ex. 421 to 425.— Russell's note of November 18th, at 30 ds. for S200, is now due. On December 3rd he paid S50 on this note. (See 488.) He is now unable to pay the balance, and wishes to give us two notes lor the balance of the old (.*i?150), and the interest on same to date (SI. 27), and the balance of his account in the Ledger (!S2(].9G). We take from him the new notes (see 425), and surrender to him the old note. 421 posted to GIO and Gil. 422 pocted to G24. 423 posted to GG7. 424 posted to 713. Another way of recording this transaction would be to debit Rus- sell's account for the balance duo on the old note surrendered and interest, and then credit his account for the new notes he gives us. If this method were adopted, the entry would then be as follows : — 151.27 Ed Russell Dr. to Sundries, Bills Receivable, Interest, Surrendered note of Nov, 18-82—30 c^s. §2()0. Payment on same, §.50. 178.23 Bills Receivable Dr. to E. RusselJ, liec'd following-described notes ; Dec. 21-82— 30 ds.— §100.00 " " GO " 78.23 $150.00 1.27 178.23 Ex. 420.— Same as 408 to 410. After a customer's name has become famiUar to us, and we have only one person by that surname in our Ledger, we omit the initials, as in this example. (See 332.) It is not necessary to ditto the Sales Book page ; but wo understand that it is the 714 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCL0P.4^BIA. same as above until changed. Piper, Dickenson, Goodwin, and Cameron are petty customers, and these amounts are posted under " Petty Ac- counts." Lyman and Keene are new customers, therefore residence is added. It is not thought i.ocossary to indicate where the camounts in this example are posted, as the student by this time has sufficient know- ledge of posting such charges. Ex. 427 to 430. — When goods arc frecpiently returned to us, it is ad- visable to keep a '' Credit Book " in which to enter these credits. When this is done, we simply write in that book the person's name and a description of the goods returned ; then those credits are transferred to the Journal in the manner here indicated, — entering the person's name, C. B. for Credit Book, the page and amount. 428 posted to 0^7. 42!) posted to 7'M). 430 posted to 720. Ex. 431 and 432.- — We give Borland, whom wo arc owing, an order on Bennett (a dry goods merchant), who is owing us, for dry goods to tlie amount of S20, with instructions to Bennett to charge the same to our account. This is to us the same in effect as giving Borland a sight draft on Bennett, so the entry is made the same as in paragraphs 439 and 440, — the explanation only being different. 431 posted to 777. 432 posted to 698. Ex. 433 and 434. — Wc are owing S. W. & Co., and they are owing Thompson \: Risley. They draw on us at 30 days from Dec. 20tli, mak- ing the draft payable to T. & U., and we accept it, thereby promising to pay T. .*c R. in 30 days, for S. W. .V- Co., 828.45. (See 182 and 183.) 433 posted to 782. 434 posted to 038. Ex. 435, 436, and 437. — Porter cannot pay his note, which is now due, therefore renews it for 80 days, giving us a new note f()r the amount of the old note and interest. When he gives us the new note we surrender to him the old. This, also, may be treated according to tl. other method described in Ex. 421 to 425. (Lee 124.) 435 posted to 013. 430 posted to 025. 437 posted to 068. Ex. 438.— Same as 408 to 416. Ex. 439 and 440. — Dollus is owing us and we are owing Armsbv, so we give Annsby a sight draft on Dollus. If siglit drafts are not paid when drawn by us on one person payable to another, and ai-e returned to us, we arc ihen obliged to undo the entry we made when the draft was drawn, ■which would be done by debiting the person on whom we drew, and ■crediting the person to whom we made the draft payable. (See 17'J and 170.) 439 posted to 764. 440 posted to 721. ;IA. THE EXPLANATION OF THE JOURNAL. 715 in, and Cameron ider " Petty Ac- foro residence is the amounts in , sufticient know- d to us, it is ad- 56 credits. When son's name and a are transferred to bbe person's name, ,sted to 0^7. 4.2<» owing, an order on or dry goods to the re the same to our vg Borland a sight , "in paragraphs 439 posted to 777. ^'^- [ind they are owing •om Dec. 20th, mak- lereby promising to See 182 and 183.) [., which is now due, o for the amount of iv note wc surrcmler itotl other method |to013. 430 posted LvingArmsby.sowe Is are not paid when re returned to us, we no draft was (hawn diom wc drew, and able. (See 170 and Ex. 441 and 442. — Wo hear that Dorman is about to fail ; therefore, we make a certified statement of his account, and hand it to our attorney for collection. " What is meant by a certified statement ? " A certified statement is an itemized statement of a person's account made out and sworn to by us before a notary public sis being " correct, to the best of our knowledge and belief." (See 262 and 2G4.) 441 posted to G85. 442 posted to 735. Ex. 443 to 44G. — We are owing these different parties. We send Arbuckle and Babbitt notes on 60 and 30 days from the dates of their hills, as indicated in paragraphs 444 and 445 ; and we accept the draft drawn on us by the Toronto Tobacco Co. at 60 days from Nov. 28th, as indicated in paragraph 443. The entiy for these is the same in cft'ect a.s were the entries in paragraphs 380, 3S1, and 396, 397, excepting that here we make an entry for several notes, and in those cases, for only one at a time. The items are posted separately on the Bills ra3'ablc account for checking purposes. 443 posted to 639, 640, and 641. 444 posted to 755. 445 posted to 758. 446 posted to 748. Ex. 447, 448, and 449. — Some book-keepers hold the notes they receive several days before entering them, and then enter them all together in the manner here illustrated. Each of the parties is then credited, and Bills Rof'civable account debited for each item separately. 447 j)osted to 614 and 615. 448 posted to 727. 449 posted to 731. Ex. 450 and 451. — Hurto is in.solvent, and compromises with his creditors for a settlement in full for sixty cents on the dollar, i.e., each one of his creditors signs a paper which is presented to them agreeing to accept sixty cents on the dollar in full settlement. Hurto then gives us acheckfor!i?97.50, which is 60 per cent, (entered on Ca.sh Book — see 500), and the remainder, .S65 (40 per cent.), is of course lost. (See 265.) 450 posted to 784. 451 posted to 600. Ex. 452.— Same as 427 to 430. Posted to 700. Ex. 453 to 457. — For full instructions and explanations, see latter part of paragraphs 330 and 337 ; also 201 and 204. 453 posted to 654. 454, 5, G, and 7 posted to 677, 679, 6.SI, and 683. Ex. 458 to 463.— Same as 401 to 407. When several bills are bought from a firm on different time, the time on which each is bought is indicated in the manner illustrated in paragraph 460. For example: "■!<'> os" is hoc. 15, 820.00 on 60 days' time. Posting same as Ex. 401 to 407. Ex. 404 to 468. — For full instructions and explanations, .see paragraphs 2CC, 270, 271, and 272. Dollus having suddenly " left for parts unknown,' we call his account lost. Lyman having recently failed, his note is con- 716 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. sidered by us as worthless. Our attorney reports that of the remaining SoO due on Dorman's account, he believes not more than §25 to he collectible, so we carry 825 to Lost Accounts and Notes. 4G5 posted to 785, 78G, and 787. 466 posted to 722. 467 posted to 626. 4GS posced to 687. Ex. 469 and 470. — Having carried forward the Merchandise debit for the entire month, we now post the total amount for the month to debit of the Merchandise account in tht. Ledger (see 586) ; and having carried forward the Merchandise credit for the entire month, we now post the total amount for the month to the credit of the Merchandise account in the Ledger. (See 590.) kt of the rcmainingr )re than S25 to be Notes. 4G5 posted )osted to G26. 4GS erchandise debit for r the month to debit and having carried h, we now post the fchandise account in 71» 90. Dr. the illustration. Cash. Date. 471. 1882. 489. Dec. 486. 487. 488. 489. 489}.- 490. 491. 492. 493. 49 L 49S. 496. 497. 498. 499. 600. 601. Cti2. 603. 604. 6CS. 647. 648. 649. 1888. 664. Jan. 23 24 27 2S 29 L. 472. V 41 41 44 }' 41 y V 42 y 44 V 41 42 41 42 44 46 45 43 i' 45 42 V 45 I 43 t; 41 (All these Items »re posted to the Credit side of the Ledger.) 473. 474. To Balance on hand (ani't invested), Mdse. Sales, f* .( Bills Receivable. Pavm't on E. Uussell's note, U 18 82-80 ds., " " Diso'ted E. Uusaell's note, 10-20-8'2-(iOds., O. W. Bennett. C'k, Mdse. Sales, Bills Receivable. Disc'ted E. Pii9.«eirs note, ll-lS-82-OOds., Mdse. Sales, 41 44 F'rt and Exp. 0V\ ret'd O. T. R., Md»ie. Sales, P. H. Miller. He paid our st. d'ft, .M(l»e. Sales, BilU Receivable. I'ayiu't on H.Smith's note, U-14-82— 30 ds.. Interest. On above note (ijl,000) to dato, Mdse. Sales, Bills Receivable. Disc'tod Q.W. Bennett's note 12 ;<-s2-90ds., On abuv». Intorost. C. \V. Ucnnett. U. Canicruu. Mdse. 44 H. S. Cole, Sum. Uurto. Sales, Sixty cents on the dollar of claim (#162.50), Sales, Mdse. L. S. & M. S. R'y, Krt and Exp. O'c. ret'd C. R. I. & P., Mdse. Sales, B. Goodwill, Jr., 1£. L. Richardsou, Att'y. Coll. on W. Dorman's acu't, I Mdse. Sales, Bills Payable. Borrowed from W. T-iele on uoie, 30 ds.— 12-31 62, 40 To Mdsob ToUl for Deo., 1882, Total cash rec'd, Balance on band. MlSCKLI.A- KBOl'S. Or. 47 60 200 104 100 1 84 500 7 200 82 42 6 97 1 6 60 250 2,53fl 5. 00 10 Mdsb. Or. 47 184 2^5 213 2fiO 174 140 135 209 107 183 49 114 167 187 152 6. 80 34 SO 42 20 20 80 60 35 46 68 40 45 80 60 Total. CASH UMl. Cr. ToT.a. I. 4716. 11 47,7. 1 3,000 1 00 184 ! SO ■ 2i5 I a* 213 80 24 {H) CO 33 00 7tJ lit 00 40 ' I 50 I 00 1 55 06 00 00 200 174 140 135 42 20 20 80 200 107 60 35 183 49 46 b6 114 40 167 45 1S7 80 152 50 ■ THE ILLUSTRATION. 71) ■ BOOK, 1 Cash. Cr. 91. 1 Dati. L. (All these items are poitted to the Debit side ol HlSCKLLA- XEUL'S. Ezriixai. 1 F. the Ledger.) 48a 481. Dr. Dr. 101 XL. 1 478. 1882. 479. 48 3. 48 3. 48 4. I 606. Deo. 1 By Exi)en8e. Rent of Store tc T-I 83. 76 00 1 607. Set HIaiik I^()ok^ 20.40 ; Sta- H . 1 tionery hill, 7.20. 33 60 I 608. 3 43 " Insurance Policy, *;,00u, " .l".tna," 1 pr cent., 30 00 1 609. 42 " Interest. Din. on E. Russell's note, 10-20 82-00 d.M., 8o H 610. 4 40 " J. H. Oooilwin. On acc't, 10 00 I 511. 41 V " Store imd 0. Fixt. New Counter, " K.\iH,"nsc. lnk,"5o.; I'eni *l;Era«cr,50c, 13 60 25 I 613. 6 1 42 " Interest. Disi. on Kutsell's note, U-18— 00(19., 1 00 1 H 513. j ' i? " S. A. Emorson. On acc't. 15 00 H 614. ■ 41 " Store and O. Flxt. New Desk, 30.00 , Chair, R.OO, So 00 615. 7 1 " F'rt and Exp. L. S. 4 M. S., 12.20 ; O. T. R. , and». R. 7.H, | 19 34 516. 1 1 42 42 " Salaries. F. .Ma.st, 10.00; tl. Smlth,3.75. J. Kinsella, 10.00; M. W. Sax-: ton, 12.;'Kl, 13 75 50 1 817. I *? " Union Trust Co. Sharon. 5 Shares, i 5i-0 1 00 618. 10 1 » '• Expense. Siirn— "Cioodwin AKracrscn," 1 j 13 00 619. 40 " Mdrte. 40 bu. Potatoes, fioo., 1 20 1 00 1 620 11 42 " F"rtand Exp. U. R. I. and P., i'..-.'0; Dray, 50c. ; i:xpro8.s, 1.00. 7 70 B21. 13 1 45 " Toronto Tobacco Co. Sent Uft, 340 40 622. 14 42 42 " Salaries. Kiiisella, 10.00; Saxton, 12.50, Smitli. 3 75; .Mast. 10.00, 22 lij 60 75 623. 1 42 " Coll. and Exdi. Coll. Dft on Milltr, 26 621. 16 ' 1 41 " Bills Payuljle. Paid A.-o. Arltuckle Bros, of H-l3-!*J-30 ds., ; 640 00 1 62S. 1 42 " Coll. and Exch. On ai)ovo. 05 1 626. 17 43 " Advertising. 5 .M Circulars, 4.00 ; Mail bill. 1 627. 628. 629. 630. l-'.OO, 16 00 13 1 45 " Baker .St C.\ Paid D'ft 12-13-S2, 28U 00 ■ 42 " Coll. and Exch. on above. 30 20 1 i " Expense. 6 tons Itansre Coal, .''i.OO, 25 00 ■J2 41 '• Bills Receivable. Took up in B'k lO. RusssU's 631. note of 10-20-82— (Ht ds.. 200 00 41 " Bills Payable. Sent U'ft for note, Thurbori 1 632. Co,, 10-:i2-S;!-00 d.s., 600 oo! t 42 " Interest. On above note, 6 25 ! i 63J. 33 42 " Coll. and Exch. On ah ivo d'ft. 50 i 1 634. 42 " F'rt and Exp. Dr.ay, 1.00 ; C. .and N.W., 3.20, 4 •20 ( 40 " Mdse. Dis. Bennett, tJ4c. ; Cameron, 1 s4c., , 1 43 1 635. 24 43 " F. P. Ma>,s account. Tosted ,ank draft) on Ncnn' 7»)) Posted to /-^z- losted to G5:i. In a icessary to write the tting our sight draft -Bros, drew on Oood- I and is sent by them lit to us for payment- Id collection charges. .ment in Ma'd-^^- ar for advertising, ^ve Lnt to that account. law on us "at sight, Inxf t reaches us on the 1.5th, is "accepted," and after throe day.s of grace is now duo. We pay it, together with 30 cents exchange. (See 180 and IW.) Po.sted to 752 and G71. Ex. 529. — We buy coal for our own use in the store, and as wo keep no Fuel account, the amount is charged to Expense. (See 189 and 194.) Ex. 530. — Russell's note, dated Oct. 2()th, at 00 days, is now duo and ho is unable to pay it. We discounted it in the bank on the 3rd inst. (see 489), and we are now obliged to take it up. This note was made without interest ; if it had been made with interest, we would be obliged to pay the bank the face of the note plus the interest; we would then debit Bills receivable for the face of the note and Intere.st for the amount of accrued interest. (See 120.) Posted to 612. Ex. 531, 532 and 533. — The note Goodwin gave to Thurbur & Co., dated Oct. 22n(l, at GO days, will be due on the 24th inst., and as it is made payable at their office in New York, we this day buy a bank draft for §505.25, for the face of the note and intci'est, (the note was made with intered,) and send it to them so it will reach them on the day the note is due. Wo pay exchange on the di-aft, 50 cents. (See 362, 134, 144 and 200.) Posted to ()30, 662 and 672. Ex 534.— See Ex. 497 and 498. Posted to 585. Ex. 535, 537 and 539. — These employds draw money on their accounts. (See 204 and latter part of paragraph 337.) Posted to 680, 682 and 678. Ex. 536 and 540. — Emerson and Goodwin draw money for their pri\ ^,te use. Posted to 580 and 572. Ex. 541. — Goodwin instructs the book-keeper to pay for a pair of shoes which the shoemaker brings in with a bill for same. The shoes are for Goodwin's private use, therefore the amount is charged to his account. Posted to 573. Ex. 542. — We loan J. Huggins, on h\? note at 60 days, with interest at 8 per cent., 8100. (See 108.) Posted to C16. Ex. 543. — We make a payment of 850 on the note we gave to the H. S. .^' L. Co. We debit Bills Payable for the amount of that payment, which amount is by them endorsed on the note. (See 134.) Posted to 631. Ex. 544. — We give Armsby a check on our bank for the balance of his account. (See 179.) Posted to 765. Ey.. 546. — We pay for Emerson his private gas bill. Posted to 581. CLOSING THE CASH BOOK. Ex. 547. — It is now the end of the month, and we wish to clo.se or bal- ance the Cash Book. First— Find the total of the " Mdse. Cr." column, 726 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. then bring that total into the " Miscellaneous Cr." column, which amount is the total sales for the month, Ex. 548. — Second, — Find the total of the "Miscellaneous Cr." cohnnii, (including the Mdso. Cr. amount) the amount of which is the total cask received during the month, and this amount is then extended into the " Total" column. Ex. 549. — Tlt'ird. — Adoc.: )65. 3I ^et Inve.itincnt, By Net I'rivate Qaiu, 62 40 8,600 71 00 81 3,571 31 3,571 31 " 1^8.S. j ON 566. Jan. 1 1 By Piesent Worth, 40 ' 8,671 31 s. A., Em ERS Sto 1 ck' Account. 1882. 1SS2. B67. Uec. 81 To S. A. E. Priv'tc! 569. Dec. 1 aoc't : net lus. 1, 40 217 21 II 668. 31 Co balance. 40 1 3,2S2 79 00 1 Xct Investment, 62 3,500 00 3,M(0 3,500 00 1883. ' 570. Jan. 1 Present Worth, 40 3,232 79 J. H. Goo DWI N- -Priva te Account. 1SS2. 1882. 571. Utc. 4 91 10 CO 573. Vcc. 31 By I Net Gain, 47 1S3 31 E72. 27 £. 4! 00 673. 2a .Shoes, 91 12 ' 00 62 1 00 671. ,S1 To J. H Good win, 1 Stuck acc't, s. A 40 11 31 'IT E Account. 13S 133 ■ 81 Em 'krson 1 — Priv AT ISS'2 1882. 676. I»co. (1 91 16 , no 1 882. l^ec. 31 '!v J Net Gain, 47 133 31 677. 14 M. OH 2 55 1 583. 1 31 ilv S. A Kmerson, 678. 17 tl 63 9. ar, atock acc't, 40 217 21 67J. 21 (1 ti3 3 12 680. 24 91 325 00 681. 31 Gas bill, 91 2 OJ hi 350 SoO 52 — 1 350 ! 52 Merch ANDISE I ias'2. 1W2 iH. Uec. 1 To Inventory. 62 3,376 40 589. Deo 31 ;asli Salo9, 90 2,. 131 1» 683. 10 i20.00: 1.4S. 21 4S 690. 31 Jour. " 65 .^06 »9 23 3,043 18 586. 31 Journal, 6S 1,072 ,'■5 1 591. 31 By Inventory, 2,212 40 1'27.W 4,470 43 1 ! 687. 31 To Loss and Oaiu, 47 785 15 5* 6,26B 5,255 ' 58 18S3 1 1 SE8. Jan 1 Tolnveniory, j 2.212 40 1 1 :.:/ 728 49. THE ILLUSTRATION. LEDGER. Store and Office Fixtures, 1882. 1S82. 693. Dec. 1 To Inventory, 62 130 00 699.1 Uec 31 liy Inventory, 338 00 fi93. 4 Ul 13 50 600. 81 I5y LoiwandUain, 47 14 50 694. 6 91 36 00 695. 13 (13 l.')0 00 696. 16 03 4 00 697. 24 91 20 36i 00 60 862 60 362 60 1883. 698. Jan. 1 To Inventory, 338 00 Bills Receivable. 601. 1 1882. 1882. 60-2. Ucc 1 Russell, ll-.SO 62 ! 200 618. Uec. 3 Russell. 11-30, P. 90 60 00 603. .« 11-60 6:! ; 100 619. 3 10-60, D. 90 200 00 604. II 10-60 62 ; 2()0 62). 6 11-60, 1). 90 100 0!) 605. Porter, 11-30 62 ; 2t0 |621. 17 Fishcr,10 60,U.L.R. 606. Fisher. 10-60 62 : '00 Att'y, 63 100 00 607. U. binith, 11-30 ■S2 ; ^/OO 622. II. smith, 10-60, P. 90 600 00 61)8. 4 Keniiett, I'WK) 62 ; 2 62 i. 20 Bennett, 12-i)0, U. 00 200 UJ 609. 11 Kk'hardson 90 63 : IHO 621. 21 Ruasill, U-30. K. 64 1.50 00 610. 21 RuhhlH, 30 64 100 62 i. 23 Porter, 11-30, R. 64 240 00 611. .4 60 04 ; 78 23 6'i6. 31 Lyniau'8 called lust. 65 20 i)4 612. 22 " 10-60, T. up 91 ■■■ 200 1660 U4 613. 23 Porter, 12-HO 64 : 241 76 627. 31 By Balance, 41 1449 02 614. 21 UurKUbH, 60 6t SO 03 615. Lyman, 30 64 ; VO 04 616. 28 HugRins, 30 1449 02 91 i 100 3009 96 I 3(10!) 96 3009 Ofi 1883. 1 617. Jan. 1 Ral, 41 1449 Bil 02 LS Payab LE. 628. 1882. ; 1882. 629. Uec. 16 Arbuckle, 11-80 91 640 00 '633. Dec 1 Arbuckle, 11-80 62 640 00 630. 9./. Ehurber, 10-00 91 600 00 634. 1 Thurber. 10-00 62 600 00 631. 29 Taylor's .S. &L. i 63.V 8 Arbuckle, 12-60 62 218 W) Co., 12-30 91 oO 11«0 00 tiO 636. 13 Taylor's S. & L. Co., 80 63 150 CO 632. 31 Bal. 41 1002 04 ,637. 638. i639. i640. 14 23 26 Procter 4 G., 60 Spriif;ue, SO Arbuckle, 60 Bibbitt. 80 63 64 64 64 IbO 30 28 ! 4.'^ 14fl ! (.0 66 \ SO 6)1. Tor. Tob. Co., 11-60 64 64 lU 643. 31 Teele, 12-30 1062 04 90 260 uo 2252 04 2262 04 2262 04 1 1883. 1 1 . i ( 643. Jan. 1 1 Bal. 41 1062 04 THE ILLUSTRATION. 729 42. LEDGER. Expense. in, 47 838 00 14 50 362 60 18»2. 644. Ucc. «4S. 1 31 To luvcu'.ory, 62 91 20 108 |l 1882. 00 |647. Dea 45 1 648. 31 By Inventory, " LuM aud Qaln, 47 15 173 00 46 To Inventory, 188 1.S8 45 46 ' 188 ' 45 1883. 616. Jan. 1 15 00 » Fre IGH T AND E XP RESS. 1882. 649. Dec. 7 19.84, 7.70, 4.20, 11 23 28,46 31 24 1882. 650. Deo. 6S1. 10 31 1.24, l.OO, 55c., 13 28 By Loiw and Gain, 2 47 28 31 79 45 31 24 Sal Alt lES. 1882. 652. Deo. 663. 604. 7 U 31 91 91 65 38 3« 72 25 25 50 18S2. 656. Dec. 31 By Loss and Oain, 47 : 146 00 145 145 00 00 I 145 00 Ins 1 UR ANCE. 1882. 666. Dec. 3 ".Etna," To Inventory, 91 ' 1 1 30 00 1882. 658. Dec. 669. 31 31 By Inventory, " Loss aud Ciain, 47 27 2 .50 30 00 ij 80 00 1S.S3. 657. Jan. 1 27 50 Int ER EST. 1982. 660. Dec. 661. 662. 663. 3 6 2'.' To Loss and Oain, Coll 91 91 91 47 5 7 6 86 00 •-6 10 , 62 62 1882. ;664 Dec. '665. 1666. '667. 668. i 8 17 20 21 23 e.62 NOE. B2 90 M 64 04 2 7 1 1 50 31 70 27 76 13 13 02 13 68 1 ECT ION AN 1-T D EXC: HA 1882. 669. Dec. 67d. 671. 672. 14 m 18 23 01 91 91 01 25 66 30 60 673. 31 By Luu and Oain, 47 1 70 1 1 70 70 1 70 730 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP^EOIA. EXPLANATION OF THE LEDGER. ¥51 • THE COLUMNS. Ex. 555 and 559. — Tlicse are the date columns. Tlie dates entered herein are taken from the Journal and Ca,sh Book, or whatever books we post from. Ex. 550 and 5G(\ — These are the " explanation columns " referred to in 828 and 824. Ex. 557 and 501. — The.se are the colunm.s in which we indicate the. Journal or Cash Book pages from which a transaction is posted or trans- ferred. By thus entering on an account the Jouinal or Cash Book page upon which a transaction may be found recorded in detail, it is not neces- sary to write any explanations on this book, oxceptiTig the few instances that will be noticed on the accounts herein. Ex. 558 and 5G2. — The.se are the debit and credit money columns. Now read Par. 15 to 19 , also 821 to 830. THE ACCOUNTS. Ex. 5()8 to 570. — See 49 to 5G. (This set of books is closed according to Closing No. 1.) It will be seen that Goodvin has a net private gain^ while Emerson has a net private loss : thus illustrating to the student the different ways of treating the Stock accounts in such cases. Ex. 571 to 588. — See 57 to (55. It will be seen in 575 and 582 that each of the partners is credited with ccjual .shares of the net business gain. Goodwin has drawn less (571, 2 and 8) for his private use than his net business gains amounted to, therefore he has a net private gain (See 02). It does not matter whether or not a salary is allowed — the account is t -eated the same, as will be .seen in this case where none is allowed, Emer.son has drawn more for his private use than his net business gain amounted to, therefore his is aiict itvivate loss. (See 03.) Ex. 584 to 59K— See 00 to 74. Ex. 591 to 000.— See 92 to 90. Ex. 001 to 028.— See 322. In business colleges 001 is the style of , ruling that is used under the Ledger heading.s. Some book-keepers also use this ; but if any ruling is u.sed the style under " Bills Payable (028) is recommended, as it reipiires less time to rule it and is not so "fussy." These rulings are used here simply to show the different styles. Ex. 002 to G27.— See 107 to 128. Some book-keepers do not insert the two ciphers in the " cents" column in their books when there are no cents ) dates entered itover books we 9 " referred to in [x we indicate the, s posted or trans- . Cash Book page m1, it is not neces- tliefew instances ncy columns. closed according to a net private gain. ir to the student the L575 and 582 that Ic net business gain, late use than his net \vate gain (Sec G2). .ed— the account is Ivc none is allowed. Is net business gam P3.) {]0\ is the style of ,0 book-keepers also (ill. Payable (028) IS is not so " f "s^y- Int styles. Lrs do not insert the n there are no cent. THE ILLUSTRATION 731 THE LEDGER. Advertising. 1882. 674. Deo. 17 91 16 1882.' 675. Dec. 31 By Loss & Gain, 1 47 16 00 1 Un] [ON TrU 1 ST Co. Sii . VRES. 1882. 676. Dec. £ Shares, 01 600 00 M.W. Sax TON ! (Sala «v 850 Mo.) 1882. 877. Dec. 31 Mo. Dec, 65 25 00 James Ki NSE LLA (Salary S40 Mo.) 1 1 1882. 678. Dec. 27 Frank P. 01 15 AST 00 ! 1H82. ,679. Dec. 31 Mo. Dec, 1 D 00 ! 1 (Salary; 8U) Mo.) i 65 20 00 1882. 680. Dec. 24 01 1 ^- 00 i 1882. 681. Dec. 31 Mo. Dec, 80O 65 20 00 Herman Sm ITH (Sala 11 Y 815 Mo.) 1882. 682. Doc. 24 91 5 1 00 issr 683. Det. 31 Mo. Dec, , 2 50 C5 7 50 H. L. Ri CIIA RD SON, B AR rister. 1882 684. Dec 17 S. A. Fisher's Note 03 100 00 1882. 686. Dec. 20 Donnan acc't, 00 50 00 1 685. 24 Will. Dorniaii occ't 12o 00 C4- 100 200 00 00 i687. ai " called worthies! ) 65 25 76 00 Ot> Sam H URT 0, 1 OS ' King Street. i 1882 688. Dec '. 1 Oolaooe, 62 162 60 1882. 1 689. Dec. 27 60 per ct. cash. 90 Oi : 50 690. 14 Ix)8tA.&N.40perc • 00 65 00 i 102 50 ic: 60 16'. 60 =■ =rr 732 44 THE ILLUSTRATIO^f. LEDGER. George W. Bennett. — PoiiTAaB La Prairie. 1882. 691. Dec. 693. 693. 6!H. 1882. 702. I'tf. 1 Balance, 202 F. H. Hal. 02 04 3(V» •ii 3&U Mil leu. 02 1882. 704. l>ec. 1 706. 8 1882. 707. Ucc. 2 70fl. 10 71,9. 17 1882. 714. Doc. 2 716. 4 716. 17 717. 21 718. 24 1882. 733. 18 734. 17 720. 21 Hal. Int. Frank i Ric (12 02 Edward Rus 62 03 Alex. D OLL 02 02 o:» 04 64 ■=T.-= Frank Bur 63 63 64 84 IIA] 187 1!)0 4 10 42 57 US. 12 3 22 34 11 00 I)S 84 84 QESS 7 7 28 43 35 23 46 03 1882. 695. Due. 696- 697. 69 S. 699. 700. 701. Kings 1S82. 703. Dec. ON. — 1882. 706. I'cc. 4 iNoto, OOda. 21 M. 2,) Iloroland's Order. 23 28 M. TO N. 14 Ot tawa. —85 S 1882- 71(>. Due 711. 72. 713. 41G W 1882. 719. Due. 720. 721. 722. 20 Yo 1882. 736. I>eo. 727. U o. Ago. 00 ds 12-8, ROBEY St. M. 18 'Clinose — Arinsbv. 21 Itiil. note, 12-21-0O. F.L LINOTON St. M. M. .St. Dft. to Armiby. Called worthless. NG E St. Maklni; Shelves. Note 00 ds. 00 62 04 04 1)0 64 00 03 02 03 63 64 02 M 04 65 66 104 2U0 20 32 357 84 190 10 14 20 67 60 32 84 84 4 89 4S .IE. 00 62 (U M OO 01 104 200 20 82 857 00 00 50 00 10 80 2tf 00 84 00 l2-8, 63 190 00 fi2 luishv. I fiS •21-00. 04 16 14 20 57 20 Oi> till IMi 70 St. Irmsby. Ihlesa. 62 4 1882. 730. Dec. 731. 21 27 c M. Note 30 di, HURCH St. 64 t 20 Oft 04 21 21 04 04 w. Kek NE —320 1882. 732. Doc. 733. 21 24 04 Ot 45 12 57 12 00 12 Wm. Do RMA N. — G4P AU K Ave. 1882. 734. Uoc. 17 (i3 100 00 ty 1SH2. 735. Dec. 28 .__ NT .\oct to H. I,. Rlch- ardboii, Itr'Ntr, S. C4 100 OO Pet Accou 1882. 736. Dec. 737. 738. 739. 740. 741. 742. 13 17 17 21 21 21 21 L. S b M. S. R'y, Buck, H. N., Cole, 11. S., l*i|)er, Adol])!), DickiiiHon, U. M., Goodwin, H, Jr., Cameron, l>.. 63 «:» «;» 04 04 04 (Vi 1 » 1 4 8 6 42 00 00 40 20 10 Oil 00 1882. 743. Dec. 744. Deo. 745. I»ec. 746. D«c. 28 25 20 23 I'ald, I'aid, I'aid, raid, 00 00 00 DO 1 6 42 00 40 66 00 TORO NTO ITOB AC CO Co. Toronto. 1882. 747. Doc. 748- 13 25 Acc-t lytt, 01 04 840 04 404 40 U) 1882. 749. Dec. 760. 1 15 nai., ..•28, 80, 62 63 340 04 404 40 10 50 Samuel Cu PPL ES & Co. — Quebec. 1882. 75L Dec. 1 Bai, 62 344 00 B AKE R & c 0. N EW York. 1882. 752. Dtc » M 280 00 1882. 753. Dec. 1 BaL e> 280 00 784 46. THE ILLUSTRATION. ' LEDGER Arbuckle Bros. — Montreal. 1882. 764. Dec. 766. 1882. 768. Dec. 1882. 761. Dec 1882. 763. Dec. 764. 765. 8 Acc'tD'ft, 23 Note, 25 B. Note, R. & 14 Note, 1882. 776. Dec. 776. 1882. 782. Dea Riisseirs Cheese, D'ft on DoUug, T. 64 J. «3 63 64 91 G M., Order on Dennett, 23 EC. 62 63 23 62 64 218 146 301 Babbi 65 50 Ca MP 189 K. 14 60 28 93 Spra Aect D'ft, 64 w. 30 6 3 20 28 QUE, Bo 18S2. 7J6. Dec 767. IT. N 1882. 769. Dec. 760. IJELL.- 1SU2. 762. Dec RMSBY 188i 766. Dec. 767. 768. 769. 770. 771. 772. 7/3. 774. 28 3 60. IS 60. EW York. 6 30, 14 30, w IIITBY. 60, & Co. 60, 30, 60, RLAND & Co. 1882. 778. Dec 779. 780. 781. 45 Warn er & Co. 120.00 37.65 1882. 783. Dec. 61.17 63 65 63 65 65 63 63 65 66 65 66 65 65 65 63 63 66 65 2:8 14U 364 120 65 1S9 14 6 20 14 12 5 2 11 6 03 61 00 60 00 50 30 60 25 00 30 90 40 79 60 70 54 28 17 12 7 05 40 85 00 40 65 89 62 4r THE ILLUSTRATION. LEDGER. Lost Accounts and Notes. T.*^? 20.00 63 II 218 «" " 3(54 60 08 65 66 120 00 05 50 169 63 63 65 65 66 65 66 65 65 63 63 66 66 30 14 60 6 25 20 00 U 30 12 9li Pi|)cr, 4 20 H. M. Uickinsion, 3 10 43 M. W. Saxton. James KiiiHolla, Frank P. :kUHt, ilermaii Sniilli, 25 5 8 2 50 45 Sam'l Clippies & Co., 341 46 B. T. IlftbbiU, Geo. W. norland A Co., 120 3T 05 Spraguc, Warner & Co., Totkl Pers nal Accounts cwing ii8, ' 04 1 01 17 201 6J3 32 " " " we owe. 00 Cash, 3776 60 40 Merchandise, ' 2212 40 41 Store and Otfice Fixtures, Bills Receivable, Bills Payable, 888 1440 03 1062 01 42 E.xpense (Fuel), 1.') Insurance (Unexpired), 27 50 43 Union Trust Co. (Shares), 500 40 J. H. Goodwin— Present Worth, 3671 31 8. A. Emerson- " " 1 32^2 7i> sS19 46 1 fSlO 46 811. This k the Trial Balance with the name.i of the accounts, refeiTeJ to in 301. This kind of a Trial Balance is a sufficient " Balance Sheet" (see latter part of paragraph 303) to satisfy any business man ; but as such a Trial Balance is required only once a year, the bool-' -keeper can well af- ford to spare time enough to make out for the firm a " Yearly Statement " in the manner hereafter illustrated, which cannot help but prove suffi- ciently clear and plain to satisfy the most fastidious. (See 812 to 818.) In taking the above Trial Balance, it will be seen that the personal ac- counts from the Ledger are first taken, then the cash balance from the Cash Book, then the remaining accounts in the Ledger, — last of all the partners' Stock accounts. (See 296, 297 and 298.) After the Trial Bal- ance has been taken the Yearly Statement is then made, the items of which are taken from the Trial Balance for the Assets and Liabilities (see 812), and from the Loss & Gain account in the Ledger for the Losses and Gains. (See 813.) The Partners' Individual Statements are made from the Stock and Private accounts of each of the partners. (See 814.) ;:: :!' 740 THE ILLUSTRATION. 812. Yearli' Statement— Goodwin & Emeuson— Jan. 1st, 1883. Abmktb, Personal Accounts owing iis, Hills i{eceiv!vt)lo— Notes on hund, Cash on hand, Merohanilise on li.md (per irviMtury), Store and oftice Fixuires on hand (pur invontorj), Co. '■ on hand, hisi.ranci' (Unexpired), Union Trust Co. (Shares), LlABlLlTIKS. Personal Accounts we owe, Hills Payable— Noteg we owe, Present Worth of Firm, .lan'y l.st, 1383, !0l 04 1 Uli 02 3776 £0 2^1^ 40 338 15 27 50 500 j 613 32 1C62 04 "• 46 «S51 10 851U b&19 46 (See 810.) 813. Yearly Statement, continued — Goodwin & Emeeson,- Jan. 1st, 1883. Merchandise, Interest, Gai.vs. Losses. Store and Office Fixtures, Expense, Freiitht and Express, Salaries, Insurance, Collection and Exchange, Advertising, Lott Accounts and Notss, Net Gain for Firm, Jan'y 1st, 1883, 785 15 6 52 14 50 173 45 28 45 US 00 2 50 1 70 16 00 143 45 260 02 791 791 67 07 (See 789 to 800.) 814. Partners' Individual Statements, — Jan. 1st, 1883. J, H. Goodwin. Not Worth, Dec. Ist, 18S2, One half Net Gain, Jan. 1st, 1883, Less amount drawn for private use— per private account, Net Private Gain, Present Woith, Jan. Ist^ 1883, 133 62 31 ! 00 3500 71 00 31 :ii 3571 (See 5G3 to 56G and 571 to 575.) S. a. E.MKIISON. Net Worth, Dnc. 1st, 1882, Amount drawn for private use— per private account, One-half Net Gain, Jan. 1st, 1883, Net Private Loss, Present Worth, Jan. 1st, 1883, 350 133 52 31 8500 217 00 21 3282 79 (See 5G7 to 570 and 57G to 583.) an. 1st, 1883. •:oi 04 3770 W , 2212 1 40 ,i 338 15 , 2? 1 50 500 1 8610 613 32 ino-2 04 0S54 10 & EMtRSON,— 785 1 15 6 i 52 U 50 173 45 28 45 145 00 2 60 70 16 1 00 143 \ *^ ., 200 02 1 J . 791 67 791 07 1883 $!.>. EXPLANATION OF THE LEDGER. Sales. 741 l?8l. 1 1882. ' 18S3. 1S84. 18-15 1886. 1 1887. January, February, -March, 1 i 1 1 1 1 Total for the year, 816. In order to present to the firm, in a compact form, a statement of the monthly sales, in such a way that the sales for one month or year may be compared with the sales of another, the above form is recommend('d. This form is continned in length for the twelve months of the year, and in width for as many years as there can be money columns made on the page ; or if begun on the left hand page of the bock, it may be extended across both pages. When this statement is made, the total sales (cfusli and on account) are, at the end of each month, here recorded. A statement of the firm's Expenses may be made in the same manner; but this requires more labour, as it necessitates the making, fir.st, of an itemized statement of the expenses. 817. PuopoRTioN OF Gains to Sales. Proportion of Gross Gaui to Sales, 25.8 pr cent. I'roportiui. of Met Gain to Sales, 1S84. 18.5. 18 0. ISbT. 818. The foregoing is a statement easily made, and proves one of great importan -e and satisfaction to the business man ; since he can tlifi-efrom compare ne year with another, the proportion of the gro.ss and of the net gain to the .sales. This statement is made only at the end of the year after the books have been closed. The proportion of the yrosn gn'ui \h then found by adding two ciphers to the gain on Merchandise, and divid- ing this amount by the total Merchandise sales for the year — wliicli in this set of books would be as follows: .S.OiS.lS) 78,41.5.00 (io^,y per cent. (See 587 and amount in small figures under 590.) The proportion of the ad ^ai?i is then found by adding two ciphers to the net business gain (found on the Loss & Gain account) and dividing that amount by the to- tal Merchandise sales for the year, — which in this set is as foi;ows : 304318) 2GG02OO (8/o"o per cent. (See 797,798 and amount under 590.) 7i2 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. STOCK COMPANIES. *' «. 819. Onjanizat'ion. — When a stock company is orjfanized, it is done by several persons coming together and making a certificate to the effect that they propose to form a corporation to bear a certain name, for the purpose of transacting a certain kind of business at a certain place; and that they propose to issue a certain number of shares at a certain price per share ; that the capital stock of the corporation is to be a certain amount ; and the duration of the corporation a certain period of time. This certiti(fate is filed in the oftice of the Provincial Secretary, after hav- ing been previously advertized in the Gazette. A subscrijition book is then opened and the shnres of the company are disposed of by suhscriptlon, — the persons subscribing paying ten per cent, down, and the balance afterward at such times and in such payments as the by-laws, hereafter to be made, may designate. After one-half of the capital stock has been subscribed foi', a meeting of the subscribers is called and by-laws are by them made ; a record of the proceedings in this meeting is then filed in the office of the Provincial Secretary, whereupon a certificate is issued to the effect that the corpora- tion is fully organized according to tl ^ laws of the Province. 830. Stock Holders or Share Holders. — Certificates of Stock arc issued to each of the subscribers for the number of shares by each subscribed. These certificates are transferabb^ at the pleasure of the owners, except when the owners are indebted to the corporation, then tlie transfer cannot be made without the consent of the corporation. 831. Capital Stock Increased or Diminished. — The capital stock of a corporation may be increased or diminished by a vote of a majority of the stockholders representing a majority of the stock, a statement of which in- crease or decrease of stock must be tiled with the Provincial Secretary. The capital stock of a corporation is never allowed to exceed a certain amount, — that amount being determined by the laws of the Province gov- erning " Corporations." 833. Book-keeping for a Stock Company. — A " Capital Stock " ac- count is opened in the General Ledger, which account is credited when- ever capital is paid in, i. e., when payments are made on subscriptions, the Capital Stock account is credited for the amounts of such payments. When all the shares originally i.ssued by the corporation are sold and paid for, then the Capital Stock account w^ill be credited for just the amount that the cortificate originally issued and tiled with the Provincial Secre- V. STOCK C0MPANIE3. 743 ized, it is (lone Lte to the efVect II niune, for the tain place ; and a certain price ;o be a certain period of tim«- ■tary, after hav- he company are in"- ten per cent, uch payments as for, a meeting of ; a record of the >'f the Provincial that the corpora- ince. Stock arc issued each subscribed. e owners, except e transfer cannot [apital stock of a a majority of the linent of which in- ;incial Secretary, exceed a certain the Province gov- Ipital Stock" ac- lis credited when- ]svibscriptions,the If such payments. ]are sold and paid • just the amount Provincial Secre- tary indicated would be the capital stock of the corporation. The amount for which a Cajjital Stock account is credited is called the " Paid Up Cai)ital " of the Company. After the shares have thus all been issued and paid for, the Capital Stock account is allowed to stand from year to year without an entry be- ing made thereon, unless the capital stock of the corporation be dimin- ished or increased and then this account is debited or credited accord- ingly. 823. Gains and Losses and Surpiiis Fund. — The gains and lo.sses of the corporation are first carried to a Loss and Gain account the same as in any other book-keeping ; bdt afterward when the net gain or the net loss is found, unlike any other book-kee|)ing, it is carried to a "Surplus Fund" account, and in that account it is allowed to remain until a dividend is de- clared by the Company, at which time this "Surplus Fund" account is debited and a " Dividend " account is credited for the amount of such divi- dend. Whenever the dividends are paid to the shareholders, the " Divi- dend " account is debited for such amounts ; therefore, when they have all been paid, the "Dividend" account will just balance. 834. There is another method of disposing of the net gain, which is to declare a dividend as soon as the net gain is found for a certain portion of tliat gain ; then credit "Dividend" account for the amount of the divi- dend thus declared, and "Surplus Fund" account for the balai :e ; the former method, however (82;}), is tl)0ught to be the better one. 825. Dividends. — The uividend is seldom declared for the full amount of the gain, for the reason that the Company wishes to reserve a portion of the amount as a surplus fund, against wdiich they may draw at such times as the net gain is not sufficient to make up the customary rate per cent, of dividend which is at regular intervals declared by the Company. For example : If a Company declare a Hve per cent, dividend semi-annually and the number of .shares issued by this Comjtany require at this per cent, a dividend to the amount of 815,000 and the net gain of the Company be only $12,000, then the " Surplus Fund " account must be drawn on to the extent of §3,000. If the final result of the Company's business be a net loss, the entire amount of such loss must be carried from the Loss and Gain account to the debit side of the " Surplus Fund " account. Some Stock Companies declare dividends .semi-annually, some quarterly, and a few monthly, while others have no stated times in which to declare them, but do so only at such times as it is the general wish of the stock- holders so to do. 744 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. ^i i^^ 8!d6. Dividend Receipt Book. — This is a book in which are entered in alphabetical order, whenever a dividend is declared, the names of each of the shareholders, together with the number and value of shares held, the percentage of dividend and dividend amount. Opposite each of these amounts, whenever the dividends are paid to them, the shareholders sign their names and enter the dates upon which they receive such payment. 827. Stock Ledger. — The Stock Ledger is a book in which is kept a record of the names of all the shareholders and number and par value qI shares held by each. It is a private book, and is in no ivay connected U'ith the other hooks of the Comjxiny. A " Capital Stock " account is opened in this book, which account is debited for the total number and par value of the shares issued by the corporation ; following this, an account is then opened with each of the shareholders ; then, the " Ca})ital Stock" account is credited for all shares that are disposed of, and each of the persons to whom such shares were sold are debited for the number and par value of same. When the total number of shares issued by the corporation has been disposed of, the " Capital Stock " account here opened will balance, and all the shares will have been debited to shareholders ; therefore, when this account does not balance, the difference between the two sides always shows the number and par value of shares remaining unsold, or not yet subscribed for. The total of all the accounts in the Stock Ledger (including the dif- ference, if any, between the two sides of the '■ Capital Stock " account) should always represent just the amount of stock issued by the corpora- tion. When a shareholder transfers shares to another person, the person to whom the shares are transfei'red must take the certificate of stock to the Company which issues it and have the transfer recorded in the Stock Ledger ; which is done by the Company crediting the old shareholder and debiting the new. 838. "Limited" lAahHity and "Full Liahility" Companies. — Limited. — When the word ' Limited" is affixed to a stock company's name, it sig- nifies that each shareholder is individually liable to the creditors of the company for only the amount representing the value of shares held by each. If suit is brought against the Company for a claim and it is nut paid by the Company, action may be brought against any one of the share- holders to the extent of the shares held by him ; and when claim is by liim paid, he may recover from each of the other shareholders the amount paid in proportion to the shares by e^ich held — less his own proportion of such claim. If a " Limited Liability Company" omits to add the Avoid *' Limited" after its name wherever and whenever they cause it to appear [A. SUNDRY INSTRUCTIONS, HINTS, ETC. 74.> I are entered in ames of each of shares held, the 3 each of these hareholders sign such payment, which is kept a and par value oi y connected iv'ith junt is opened in and par value of I account is then il Stock" account of the persons to • and par value of •poration has been will balance, and erefore, when this sides always shows not yet subscribed [(including the dif- Stock" account) ;d by the corpora- l-son, the person to ,te of stock to the Ided in the Stock [d shareholder and j)a7i ies.— Limited. lany's name, it sig- ]e creditors of the bf shares held by [aim and it is not one of the share- Iwhen claim is by lolders the amount lown proportion of to add the Avord lauso it to appear a heavy fine is imposed for each omission. Full. — When the word " Limited " is not affixed to to a stock company's name, it is understood that it is a " Full Liability Company." In such a company the shareholders arc each individually liable to the creditors of same for the total liabilities, of the company. However suit cannot be brought against an individual shareholder until it has first been brought against the Company, and then, if not paid, the claimant may institute proceedings against any one of the shareholders of the Company for the full amount of the claim ; and after same has been paid by the shareholders, he may recover from each of the- shareholders proportionately, according to the number of shares held by each, the amount paid — less, of course, his own jyroportion of such claim. SUNDRY INSTRUCTIONS, HINTS, ETC. 899. Checks, Draffs, Xofes, Etc. — When a check is printed payable to bearer, it may be made payable to order by simply erasing the word " bearer " by drawiiig a line through it with the jien. 830. When you receive a bank draft, sight draft, or check marie pay- alile to the order of the party sending it, see whether or not it is endorsed by him. If not endorsed return it to him for the endorsement, as it is of no value to you until so endorsed. 8S!. In receiving a check or draft from a person, upon which check or drait the person's name does not in any place appear, whether made payable to order or to bearer, havt^this person from whom you receive it endorse it ; for if it prove to be worthless, you can then 1 xve recourse to this person, as by endorsing his name on the back of it, the payment is by him guaranteed. 8152. When we return a draft, note or cheek to the maker of same, which draft, note or check we had endorsed, we should always erase our name from the paper by drawing lines through it with the pen. Him. 1-2 In handing a note to the bank or express company for col- lection, which note will be due in a few days, some business men simply make a memorandum in full fur same, and place the memorandum with the not-yet-due notes — making no entry on the books until the note is collected and the proceeds of same returned, — then the Bills Receivable account is credited, and the memorandum found and destroyed. 883. On Receiving Cash. — When cash is received examine it closely to see whether or not there are any counterfeits ; and if there be a doubtful 5 1 i V. T4G THK IIO.MK, FAIIM ANJ) IJUSINKSH CYCLOI'.^IDIA. bill, make a mcinoranduni of it, showini,' I'roiii whom it was received, then ivy this at tho hauic in the next deposit. 8114. Pitymoit on J)lscount('d Ku(c'<. — When we receive payments on notes which have been discounted and still remain in the bank, we simply take the money to the bank and see that tlie amount is by tho banker <.mdorsed thereon — no entry being made for same on our books unless it bo to make a memorandum ol' such payments in the Bills lleceivable and 1 Jills Payable Book. HJJ.*. iVait'e Vi'ofesf. — When there are no endorsers on ^he notes we receive from our customers, and we wish to discount them iu the bank, waive protest by writing on the backs of such notes " Protest Waived,' and thereby save the customers the i)rotest fees that would otherwise be; chargeil if the notes should not be paid when due. Care must bo taken not to waive protest on notes having endorsers; for if protest be waived on such notes, tlie security is, in some States, released. HtSG. Si(jht Draft. — In making a sight draft on a person, if you want it paid upon presentation, leave the "time" blank; i. f., commence it: "'Pay to the order of," etc. It is customary, however, to make the drafts " at sight " or " at three days' sight " in order not to take the person upon whom drawn by sur[)rise, but to give him a little time tu raise the money. vSST. Compntitifj Interest on Payments. — In computing interest on payments on notes, it is the better plan to compute the interest on the full face of the note up to the [)resent time, and afterward on each pay- ment up to the present time ; then the dilterence may bo found between the sums total of the interest on the payments and the amount of the in- terest on the full face, which difierence will be the net amount of interest y e may then make •e are a few firms icli they copy the ,bsurd practice and voice has been cre- a memorandum for ■cliase we have but ibed in 8()i). iedger is used, it is ,re part, and follow- buy, reserving the tomers ; or, we may iditors, in the back, [•hom we buy go«)as that the goods will pr per piece. If the [ye debit the over- If any overcharge Irom the bills before It ascertain whether [^hipped,— ifthefor- tount of such dania- J either be deduetcd L bill credited to the Lard debited to his l)V m ay be deduete^l If a claim for overcharge, damaged goods, or error, is made on a bill af- ter it has been entered, the amount of such claim cannot tiien, of course, be deducted from the Itill, but must be debited to the person's account. Whenever such a charge is made, the person must, in all cases, be notitied of same either by sending a bill or writing a letter to that effect. H4«5. " E((s)/ " Cii.sfumers. — There are very few firms who have not some customers who " take the world easy " and allow nothing' to tr()\d)le them — not even their tK; and in consequence of this inde])en(lence (?) such customers would willingly allow their accounts to pass into the " vale of forgetfulness," weie it not for the fact that .somehow or another the owners of such accounts cannot tune their ideas to harmonize with them and, therefore, there is a discord. Wo might dun such customers for cash, or for notes to balance their accounts until '' doomsday," and be just as successful at the beginning of our exertions as at the end. However, if we succeed in getting notes from such per.sons, there are then some hopes of ultimately collecting the amounts due ; for they then realize that they nuist make some exertion to pay. unless they have become so hardened that not even a note will move them to action, The tougher the custo- mer we have, the sharper the " goad " we seek — if only moderately dila- tory, and we think him abundantly able to pay all his debts, we simply ask for a note without security; if a little doubtful, we ask him for a note with a good endorser ; if altogether doubtful, we endeavour to get notes secured by a mortgage on his stock of goods, his lot, or his farm. There are many customers who, when we send a statement requesting them to send us notes for amount due, will take no notice whatever of our request ; but if, when we send the statement, we will fill out and enclose with same notes for them to sign, they then feel in duty bound either to do as we re- quest, or offer some very good excuse for not so doing ; therefore this lat- ter method is recommended. 810. 2'he Services of an Office Boy. — A smart office boy may, in most cases, be a very great convenience to a book-keeper ; so much so, that the services of an assistant book-keeper may be dispensed with. For instance, he may do all such work as making duplicate bills, copying letters, ad- dressing envelopes and enclosing the letters, statements or bills in same, delivering the statements to the city customers on tlie first of every month, running errands, etc., etc. ; forms of business letters may be pi-epared by the book-keeper, and by using these, the boy may write a great many husiness letters that would otherwise have to be written by the book- keeper. One day in sr.eh a school is better for the boy than a whole month in a business college. 750 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.EDIA. 847. Errors In PoHfhif/. — When errors are made in posting, some book-keepers make wliat is called a "contra entry ; " /, e., make an entry on the opposite side <»f the account " By Error" to balance the entry erro- neously made, and afterward post the amount as it sliould first have been posted ; and some book-keepers erase with a steel eraser the error, but some business men object to " scratching on the books," not wanting a figure altered after it has once been placed in the Ledger. A bettor methofl than either of the foregoing, and one to which no person could object, is to simj)ly draw a red line through the amount of such error and then post the amount as it should have been posted. If, however, the error was made in a previous month, it is then necessary either to make a contra entry, as above described, or if a line drawn through the amount, to change the lead-pencil Ledger footings. 848. On Milking Mi-itakea. — There are some business men who, in a temporary fit of insanity, forget that they are the only persons who can justly claim "infallibility," and, in consequence of this little forgetfulness, chastise the book-kee| or severely for every little " blunder" he makes. A book-keeper's work is, to say the least, very monotonous, and it is with great difficulty that he confines his mind to his work from morning until night, day after day. The errors he makes are usually made at such times as his mind is roaming in other fields rather than that in which he is at work — perhaps while he is looking forward to the day when he can give " figures" and " trial-balances" a long vacation. While posting, it is advis- able for the book-keeper to " make assurance doubly sure " by comparing the amount carried to the Ledger with the amount on the book from which it is posted, at least twice, noticing at the same time whether posted to the proper side of the account. When cash is received or paid out, it is better not to trust the memory one instant, for. it is sometimes very treacherous, but to make the entry on the Cash Book at once ; otherwise an hour might be spent in seeking for a little " difficulty " in the cash that might have been avoided if the entry had been made at the proper moment. Units Under Units, etc. — The utmost care must be taken at all times to place units directly under units, tens directly under tens, etc., etc. ; for while adding, if such care has not been taken, it is veiy easy to make a mistake. Better to spend an hour now in being over-particular on thi.s score, than a week at the end of the month when the trial-balance is taken, in finding an error caused by carelessness in placing tens under hundreds, or something similar. lA. SUNDRY INSTRUCTIONS, HINTS. ETC. ■r>i posting, some , make an entry « tlie entry erro- l first have been ;r the error, but ;s," not wanting nh^er. A bettor no person couM Df such error an, adding the address (if not familiar with .same); then, if a note acceptance, or sight draft, write " Note," " Ace," or "St. D'ft," adding the date and time of same and if a bill or s<.vcial bills, add date or dates of same. By making the lists in this manner, all the remittance let- ters may be written from tho memoranda here ma;uch checks are given on the credit side of the Cash Book ;— anJj debiting the bank on the credit .side ot the Cash Book whenever deposits] are made; but the sy.-»tcm recommended in bO^ is the one most in use. ADDITIONAL BOOKS USED IN A WHOLESALE BUSINFS3. 755 ays something om the article ; and when he •ists no hunger, that credit;— refor, he knows ) him tor same, ,hi3 person can- boy knows full m no longer, and at debit— this is debiting persons form illustrated ;ame ; and credit- it in the manner when we pay for .ping there are no etbre Single Entry, ,the business done, by us on account, .rson is debited, Nve n the Ledger, and e simply post the id make no debit than personal ac- so much borrowed There are a great Expense account m ^.rchaudise account Double Entry. tl>e they post all items ,t just as a matter for the year are and L which they treat L There arc some on the debit side L the accounts to I e Cash Book -.-an I V whenever deposiUI one most in use. A.DDITIONAL BOOKS USED IN A WHOLESALE BUSINESS. 8*53. The books used in a wholesale business in addition to those al- ready explained and illustrated heretofore in this work are as follows: Back Orders. — A book in which are entered orders for goods we liave not in stock, but have ordered ov intend to order. Such orders are al- lowed to remain in this book until the goods arrive, then they are filled and the charges transferred from this book to the Journal, the same as from the Sales Books to the Journal. Debit Ledger or Dealers Ledger. — A book in which are kept exclusively accounts with our customers. Credit Ledger or General Ledger. — A book in which are kept accounts with persons from whom we buy goods ; also all other accounts that do not belong in the Debit or Dealer's Ledger. Eastern Order Book. — A book in which is made a record of the goods we order, Avhether through agent or by mail, with prices and terms af- fixed which were guaranteed by agent or quoted by mail. Nearly all large wholesale houses have a Stockkeeper, whose duty it is to keep posted on the stock of goods in the store, and to report whenever the stock is running down in any particular line; then a memorandum is made in this book and the goods are ordered. Receiving Book. — This is a book in which is made a record of goods wo receive from the parties from whom we bought. The record is made just as soon as the goods are placed in the store. The invoices are checked off from this book to indicate that the goods have been received. C'ange Book. — It is customary with most manufactories and large whole- sale houses to notify their customers of any changes in prices of the goods they handle ; and when we receive such advice we make a memorandum of the prese?it price in this book. Our travelling agents are then all ad- vised of such cliangos, — if not of much consequence, by letter, and of great importance, by telegram. We use our cost mark in this book instead of the figures to prevent the " curious " from booming enligiitened should tliey at any time find this book lying open on the desk. Price Books. — These are small books carried by each of the salesmen and proprietors of the firm, in which is arranged in alphabetical form a li>t of all the goods in the store with both the cost and the selling prices attaclied. Whenever a memorandum is made in the Change Book for a change in the price of any particular line of goods, the change is at once made on each of the price books to correspond with same. 756 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOIMCDIA. Sales Books. — In some of the largest wholesale houses a very nice sys- tem of keeping Sales Books is adopted, which will be described as follows ; They have labelled on one, " Monday Wednesday, Friday ; on the other, " Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday." The sales for each of the different days of the week, are recorded in the respective book upon which is labelled the day. While entries are being made on Tu' 3day in the "Tuesday" book, the entries that were made on the previous day are being posted from the " Monday " book ; therefore the " Monday " book is handed in to the book-keeper by the entry clerk on every Mon lay night, and the " Tues- day " book is by the book-keeper handed to ti-e entry clerk on every Tuesday morning and so on through the week. By so doing the book- keeper is never interrupted while posting these books. Sales — Another Method. — There is another method which will be de- scribed as follows : To have loese sheets ruled in regular Sales Book form^ and numbered from " I " forward. The sales are recorded on these sheets the same as they would be if recorded in a book ; v/hen a sheet is filled it passed to the book-keeper who posts all the entries on it, and afterward files it in a safe place until he has a certain number of pages or of months, when he has them bound in book form. The total is posted to the credit of Mdse. account monthly from this book. Sales — Another Method. — There is another method which is much in use because of its simplicity and labour saving, which will be described as fol- lows : Write the invoices of goods we sell in copying ink and copy them in a copying book used expressly for that purpose ; post the charges to. the personal direct from this copying book to the Ledger, carry forward the sales from page to page until the end of the month, and then post the total for the month to the credit of Merchandise. Some firms adopt a me- thod oi numbering the hills, and when posting to refer in the Ledger to the bill number, instead of to the page upon which the bill is copied. The Different Books Used. — The books used in a business depend en- tirely upon the nature and style of the business, although a person will often find books exactly alike in nature and uses. DIRECTIONS FOR CLOSING A SET OF BOOKS FOR A BUSI- NESS WHICH HAS BEEN RUNNING FOR SEVERAL YEARS— THE BOOKS HAVING BEEN KEPT BY SINGLE ENTRY. ' 854. Lst. — Take an inventory of all the merchandise, store fixtures, etc., etc., belonging to the firm. 9f. DIRECTIONS FOR CLOSING A SET OF BOOKS. 757 very nice sys- ed as follows ; on the other, different days lich is labelled le " Tuesday " B being posted is handed in to andthc"Tues- 3lerk on every loing the book- uch will be de- iales Book form, L on these sheets a sheet is filled Lt, and afterward ges or of months, sted to the credit ch is nivich in use described as fol- ,. and copy them ,st the charges to. ;cv, carry forward ' nd then post the [finus adopt a me- in the Ledger to ,ill is copied. .iness depend f'w- Mi a person will FOR A BUST- SEVERAL Iept by Ise, store fixtures, 2nd. — Make a statement of all the Resources and Liabilities of the firm, (See 20 and 21.) Make this statement in the form of the Trial Balance illustrated in paragraphs 810 and 812, — entering the Resources in the debit column and the Liabilities in the credit. Include the private accounts of each of the partners in this statement, the same as any personal accounts. 3rd. — Find the difi'erence between the sum total of the Liabilities and the sum total of the Resources, and this difference will be the present gross ^vorth of the firm. 4th. — Find the net worth of the firm at commencement of business (the sum total of all the partners' original investments), then, find the differ- ence between the now present, ^/'oss worth and the then present net worth of same — which difference will be the net business gain or net business loss for the firm — if worth more now than then, of course a gain ; and if worth less now than then, a loss. 5th. — If a net business gain, credit each partner's Stock account for his share of such gain ; if a net business loss, debit each partner's Stock ac- count for his share of such loss. Gth. — Close each Partner's Private account and carry the balance of same to their respective Stock accounts. If the debit side of a Private account be the larger, the difi'erence between the two sides is carried to the d jbit side of the Stock account ; if the credit side be the larger, the difference between the two sides is carried to the credit side of the Stock account. 7th. — the difference between the two sides of the respective Stock accounts is now found, which difference is the present net worth of each — • and this is the object in view in closing the books — to find the present net worth of each of the partners. This concludes the closing of the books. 855. lienidrks. — There are some firms that keep their books by Single Entry and allow the same to run several years Avithout closing them, — either not wanting to take the trouble to find out how much lo.st or gained by closing the books, or worse still, not knowing the proceedings for doing so, and they thus allow them to run from year to year, until finally, there is a " death in the family," or one of the members of the firm wi.shes to withdraw, and then it becomes necessary to close the books to find the present net worth of each ; which closing is done according to instructions given in this article. In makincr a statement of the Resources and Liabilities, the Private ac- counts of all the members must be included, in order to ascertain the net business gain or net business loss of the firm ; and afterwards, these Pri- vate accounts must finally be closed and carried into the respective Stock \' 758 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPiEDIA. accounts of eacli of the members in order to find the present net worth of each. The present gross luorth of the firm is found by finding the difference between the sum total of its Liabilities and the sum total of its Resources, Private accounts included. The present net ivorth of the firm is found by finding the sum total of all the amounts credited to each of its members as his present net worth, i. e., after such accounts have been closed as per instructions in " 7th " of this article. 856. When there is but a single proprietor, there are some who do not keep a Stock account, and a few who keep neither a Stock nor a Private account, but charge amounts drawn for private use to no account — simply writing " Private use," or something similar, on the Cash Book ; this is, however, a very loose system of book-keeping, affording jio satisfaction whatever to the business man other than merely showing him the personal accounts owing to and by him. When no Private account has been kept, there is no way of finding how much has been expended for private use, unless an account had been kept called " Private Expenses ; " neither can the amount gained or lost in the business be ascertained, for the reason that the amount drawn for private use has been taken from the business and no account made thereof. 856^. If other than personal accounts have been kept, such as Ex- pense, Merchandise, etc., the balance from such accounts must not be carried forward to the new double entry books or accounts, but such old accounts or old balances must be dropped, abandoned, for the reason that tliey were kept in Single Entry simply as memorandum accounts, in order that the firm might know what their expenses and sales were. ON " MAKING THE CASH." 851. It is best to balance the Cash. Book every day, although some firms balance it only once a month. Whether we balance the book every day or not, we should every night see whether the balance on hand as shown by the Cash Book agrees with the amount we actually have on hand. The writer would recommend the following described and illustrated method of finding whether or not the cash balances : Take a slip of paper and put down in figures at the left, as illustrated below, first, the balance we had on hand in the morning, and under this the total cash received during the day; add these amounts together; then under this sum just found, enter ON " MAKING THE CASH." a. 59 net worth of the difference its Ilesources, e sum total of ent net worth, ions in " 7th " tne who do not c nor a Private ccount— simply t Book ; this is. jio satisfaction lim the personal t has been key)t, for private use, 3S • " neither can i\, for the reason :om the business ept, such as Ex- ist not be carried such old accounts ,n that they were in order that the Ihough some firms t book every day L hand as shown lave on hand. The Illustrated method \ of paper and put [e balance we had ^ccived during the just found, enter the total cash paid out during the day, which amount subtract from the sum above it which will give the amount of cash we ought to have on hand. Then put down in figures at the right on the slip, as illustrated helow, first, the balance in the bank as shown by the Check Book, then the amounts of all checks, drafts, etc. (called cash), and the casli we have in the cash drawer, after which find the amount of cash on hand we actu- ally have by finding the total of these amounts, the sum of which total should just agree with the balance on hand as shown by the Cash Book and indicated in the figures at the left on the slip. (See below ; also in the Cash Book, tSo, 548, 551, and 552.) $3,000 00 4,2(38 81 7,208 81 3,492 31 $3,776 50 83,240 80 bank 104 00 22 30 80 40 5 00 318 00 currency $3,770 50 858. Handling the Cash. — If the ca.shier is to bo responsible for the cash, no other person should be permitted to handle it, — then, if any errors occur by which the Cash Book and cash do not agree, he may justly be held accountable for same. If, on the other hand, ever3'body in the store is allowed to go to the cash drawer to make change and pay out and receive cash, it is then im- possible, if an error be made, to know by whom it was made. If the balance called for by the Cash Book does not agree with the cash actually on hand, and the cashier after diligent search does not find the error, he may make it agree in the following described manner : If Cash IS Over. — If the cash is over, i. e., more cash on hand than is called for by the Cash Book, the amount over may be credited to the Merchandise account by writing on the debit side of the Cash Book, " To Mdse. — Cash over could not account for," and the amount, and this will make them agree ; afterward, if the error is found for this amount, the proper account may be credited and merchandise debited. If C.\.sii is Short. — If the cash is short, i. e., less cash on hand than is called for by the Cash Book^ the thoroughl}'' conscientious cashier will charge the amount short to his own account, by writing his name on the credit side of the Cash Bouk, ad- ding, " Cash short could not account for ; " and afterward if the error be found, will debit the amount to the proper account and credit his account for the same — this is not done, however, until after he has made diligent t ■ \ 7G0 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPyEDIA. find thorough search and is finally obliged to "give up in despair." The reasons why he should do so are : Ho might have made the error in mak- ing change; or, in paying an account and not charging the person ; or, in paying a person more than he charged them. SHORT CALCULATION. ADDITION. 859, In adding a column of figures you should learn to do it without mental labour ; and, this may be acquired by any one with a little prac- tice. The art is acquired by learning to read a column of figures as you would a sentence in prose. By jyixidice you have become so familiar with htterfi that when you see a group of them together it is not necessary for you to stop and separate the letters, but you can tell at a glance what the word is. By practice you may become so familiar with fujures that when you see a group of them you can tell at a glance what the sum of them is. In practicing the reading of a column of figures in this way, do not let your brain work at all, but simply pass your eyes over the figures as if you were reading a sentence, not reading too slowly, and you will your- self be surprised to find how readily you may acquire the art. First, be- gin 's"ith practicing on two figures, then on three, four, five and so on, un- til finally you will become able to write the sum total of a whole column without once having thought of an amount until you have the entire pro- duct. For example : When you see, one above the othei-, the following fij:;- ures, 9, 9, 5, 5, you know at a glance that the sum is 28. The reading of a column of figures, as in the reading of a sentence, is done by dividing a large group of figures into smaller groups, and from group to group read- ing through a column the same as from word to word we read through a sentence. Another example : 9, G, 4, 2, 8, — in this, we group the last four figures, and by taking them all into our eye at once, we see that the sum of them is 29, then we have but to say 20-9 or 29. The expert in addition will skip around "here, there and everywhere " in order to do this group- ing, and will sometimes go back to the beginning of a column to pick up a stray figure that he had left behind. « In finding the sum total of several long columns of figures, it is well to set down one under the other, the total of each column ; then, after the sum total of the last column at the left has been found, the grand total or product will be the sum total of the extreme left hand column, with the I MiW»»i.w«^~l«-» -«r .1 »IA. SHORT CALCULATION. 761 I despair." The ,he error in inak- je person ; or, in n to do it without with a little prac- i of tiguros as you le so familiar with i not necessary f' @$1.20. Add \, thus : 114.50 57.25 $171.75 37.75 9.44 72 9 $63 29 14.50 3.G2i $47.12 $47.19 83 16.60 II II $99.60 @ $1. 18. Find ^'of $U8=$59 114 " ®$1.14. Deduct from $114, i of that amount, thus: 28.50 U I " @ $95c. Deduct -^Ig. from $24, thus: 68.50 ' (al75c. Daduct i^, thus : 17.12 24 1.20 $22.80 $85.50 $51.38 23 II II U II @ 55o. Find ^ and a^ cent, fov 2 years, 5 months and 18 days. Solution, — 2 years, 5 months and 18 days equals 29 .G months, 12)3.60 (Move decimal point two places to the left.) .30 (Divide by 12), .7 (Multiply by the rate per cent.) 2,10^=Interest on principal for one month. If 12.10 for one month, for 29.6 months it would be 29.6 times $2.10 or $62.16— Answer. AT TEN PER CENT. First. Find the number of months and tenths of a month as in preced- ing item. Second. Move decimal point between dollars and cents in principal one [place to the left, divide by twelve, then multiply this amount by the num- [ber of months, as found in "first," and the product will be the answer. Example.— $600. 00 @ 10 1> cent, from August 7, 1877, to January 28, 1879. SoLUTioiT, — From August 7, 1877, to January 28, 1879, is one year, 5 months and 121 days, which equals 17.7 months. 12)60.00 (Move decimal point one place to the left,) I month. 5 (Divide by twelve. ) Which equals interest on the principal for on© 764 THE HOME, FAKM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. If 35 for one month, for 17.7 months it would ho 17.7 times ?5, which equals $88.50 — Answer. Othek Example.s. — Required, the intertst on a note for $267.50, running 93 diiyi •at 10 ^j> cent. ; 03 days equals 3.1 months. 12)20.75 2.23 3.1 223 669 SG.913— Required, the interest on a note for $182.39, running 7 months and 7 days ; 7 months and 7 days equals 7. 23 months 12)18.24 1.62 7.23 456 304 1064 §10.9896 If the number of days over a month are not divided by three, continue the decimal one or two places. In many examples, both multiplier and multiplicand, i.e. months and rate per month, can be calculated in the head. VALUABLE TABLES FOR REFERENCE. VALUE. UNITED STATES. 862. The term "currency" is applied to money of all kinds employed! in trade, both coin and paper. TABLE. 10 mills (m.) make 1 cent ct. 10 cents " 1 dime d. 10 dimes " 1 dollar $. 10 dollars " 1 eagle E. ,jjj^ _ MEASURES OF EXTENSION. 7(55 which equals $88.50 I CANADA. 50 running 93 day* I 863. The currency of Canada since 1859 has been decimal, and the de- nominations the same as those of the United States. 864, ENGLISH. TAHLE. 4 farthings (fur. or qr.) make 1 penny d 12 pence " 1 shilling s. 20 shillings " I pound, or sovereign. .£, or sov. FRENCH, months and 7 days ; 7 | ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^.^ .^ ^^^ ^.^^^^ ^^^^ TABLE. 10 millimes make 1 centime ct. 10 centimes " 1 decime do. 10 decimes " 1 franc fr. A franc is equal to $193 United States currency. GERMAN EMPIRE. 1 bv three continue ■ ^^66. The unit is the " Mark," equal to 23.85 cents United States money. \\ tb multiplier and I The coins are : Gold — the 20, 10, and the 5-mark pieces ; Silver — the 2 and alculated in the ■ the 1 -mark, and the 20-penny pieces; Nickel — the 10 and the 5-penny, and pieces of less value. iNCE. all kinds employe , '^'^• or/- J ^ common year. vr 366 days •< i i ^" io 1 1 I'eipyear vr 12 calendar months- make 1 year ' 100 years .. .f , ^''• •' 1 century q 7G0 OIROULAE. «80. Used in surveying navigation, astronomy, and geography. TABLE. 60 seconds n make 1 minute .. . . 60 minutes .« 1 decree.. .;.. J oU deiiraes " i ,„ • -^ sign.. a 12 syns, or 36(J°, '« i circle ]'^[l\ 881. COUNTING. TABLE, 12 iriits, or things, make 1 dozen. 12 dozjn tt 12 gross unD IS aue i :>y equ ail jn. 901. Illustuation. — G. M. Rose. U33, 1S83. 1 J>!1. 6 60, 88 350 00 Jan. 8 90 d»ys, ' 46 243 00 30 80. 6S 230 00 2S 41 II 59 150 00 Feb. 7 Ca-h, 17 140 00 Feb. 10 Cash, 20 100 00 Varob 10 60, 83 110 00 j 490 00 AprU 6 30. 83 290 00 j 1090 1 ... .. ,-.. — . 00 .v?i>i. 774 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP/EDIA. Dr. (See 898) March 6, $350 G4 days, 200 39 " 140 91 " 110 290 4 days, " 31, Feb'y 7. JMay 9, | " 6, (See 902) 87.47 2. GO 4.25 39 1090 490 3(601 20 14.71 G.2I 20)8.50 42 Ck. (See 898.) April 8, $240.. April 23, 150.. Feb'y 10, 100 . 490 (See 900 and 901), (See 903). .31, .IG, .88, $2.48 .80 2.93 G.2l This gives 42 days to count backward from tlie "basis" (May 9fch) to lind the date upon which the account is due by equitation, or tlie average date of payment, which is March 28th. 903. On averaging a past-dut account, for the purpose of finding trie interest due, the average date when the account was due is first found, after which we compute the interest on the account, from that date up to the present at whatever rate per cent, agreed upon ; then, if it be an ac- count owing us, we charge the same for the interest thus found ; or if it be an account we owe, we credit the same for the interest. 908. On averaging an account not yet due, for the purpose of set- tling by note or acceptance, the average date when the account will be due is first found ; then the note is either dated backward from that date the number of days we wish the note to I'un, or dated on the present date, and made to read in such a manner that it will fall due on the average date due. 90/. The three days of grace is not added when averaging an ac- count ; but it may be added after the average date is found, if we wish to do so. 908. Explanation of the "Interest Method" of Averaging Accounts — We find the bill latest due, and taking this as a basis or foundation upon which to work, suppose all amounts prior to that to run from their re- fipcctive dates due up to this " basis " date before they are paid, and thereupon we charge or credit, a« the case may be^ interest on suchj amounts for the time they thus run past due. After we have thus found i the total interest uue, we find the interest on the amount of the account for one day. Now we see by paying the sum total of all the bills just one day backward from this "basis" date, there will be due the interest for one day less, and consequently, we ascertain how many days backward I A. ON AVERAGING ACCOUNrS. 775 .31, .10, .88, $2.48 .80 2.93 G.21 iis" (May 9th) to m, or the .iverage osc of finding the due is first found, m that date up to ;n, if it Ije an ac- is found; or if it •est. he purpose of set- account will be due from that date the the present date, |lue on the average averaging an ac- found, if we wish [aging Accounts.- )r foundation upon run from their re- Ithey are paid, iu> Received on the day of the date of this Indenture from the Mortgageee the sum of Dollars mentioned. Witness : CotNTY OF ) I To unt : ) make oath and say 1. That 1 was personally present and did see the within Instrument and Duplicate thereof duly signed sealed and executed by the parties thereto 2. That the said Instrument and Dupli- cate were executed at 3. That ] know the said part 4. That I am a subscribing Witness to the said Instrument and Duplicate. Sworn before me at in the County this day of in the year of our Lord 18 A Commissioner for taking Affidavits in B. K. &c. ASSIGNMENT OF MORTGAGE. This Indenture made in duplicate th& day of in the year of our Lord one thousand eighty hundred and eighty Between hereinafter called the " Assignee," of the part I Whereas by a mortgage dated on the day of one thousand eight hundred and cid grant and mortgage the land and premises therein and hereinafter described to heirs and assigns for i securing the payment of and there | is now owing upon the said mortgage Now this indenture witnesseth, that in consideration of of lawful money of | Canada now paid by the said assignee to the said ascignor (the receipt whereof I is hereby acknowledged), the said assignorl EDIA. FORMS OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS. 789 hereby secured shall rovided that until do- he Mortgagor shall n of the said lands. the said parties here- their hands and seals, lelivered ) Bof > ly of the date of tliis ) Mort<^'a«eeo the 8un\ nentioned. make oath and say onally present and did rument and Duplicate a sealed and executed 3 parties thereto nstrument and Duph- I at le said part bscribing Witness to the id Duplicate, it in )f Lord 18 r for taking Afhdavits in T OF MOETGAGE. ,,, made in duplicate th& in the year of our Lord hundred and eighty the " Assignee," of the rtf ace dated on the thousand eight hundred 1 ^rant and mortgage the s 'therein and hereinafter heirs and assigns for aent of and there n the said mortgage iture witnesseth, that in I of lawful money ot by the said assignee lor (the receipt whereot ledged), the said assignor do hereby assign and set over unto the said assignee executors, administrators and assigns, all that the said before in part recited mortgage, and also the said sum of now owing as aforesaid, together with all moneys that may hereafter become due or owing in respect of said mortgage, and the full benetit of all powers and of all covenants and provisoes contained in said mortgage. And also foil power and au- thority to use the name or names of the said assignor heirs, executors, ad- ministrators or assigns, for enforcing the performance of the covenants and other mattor»i and tilings contained in the said mortgage. And the said assignor do hereby grant and convey unto the said assignee heirs and assigns, all and singular th certain parcel or tract of land and premises situate, lying and being To have and to hold the said mortgage and all moneys arising in respect of the same and to accrue thereon, and also the said land and premises thereby granted and mortgaged to the use of the said as- signee heirs, executors, administra- tors and assigns, absolutely for ever, but subject to the terms contained in such mortgage. And the said assignor for heirs, executors, administrators and assigns do hereby covenant with the said assignee heirs, executors, administrators and assigns, that the said mortgage hereby as- signed is a good and valid security, and tliat the said sum of is now owing and unpaid, and that ha not done or permitted any act, matter or thing whereby the said mortgage has been released or discharged either partly or in entirety ; And that will upon request do perform and execute every act necessary to enforce the full performance of the covenants and other matters con- tained therein. In witness whereof, the said parties have hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above written. Signed, sealed and delivered ) in the presence of ) Received on the day of the date of this indenture from County of | I, of To wit : I make oath and say : 1. That I was porsonally present and did see the within instrument and dupli- cate duly signed, sealed and executed by the part thereto ; 2. That the said instrument and dupli- cate were executed at ; 3. That I know the said part ; 4. That 1 am a subscribing witness to the said instrument and duplicate. Sworn before me at in the ) County of this day of > in the year of our Lord 18 j A Commissioner for taking affidavits in B.ll. , etc. CHATT2L MORTQAGE (Under liev. Stat. Out. chap. 119. sec. 4.) This indentuke, made(in duplicate) the day of one thousand ei-ht hun- dred and eighty- Between hereinafter called " the Mortgagor , " of the first part : and , hereinafter called "the Mortgagee" , of the second part : Whereas, Now, therefore, the mortgagor for the consideration hereinbefore recited, and in pursuance of the said agreement, hath granted, bargained, sold and assigned, and by these presents do grant, bargain, sell and assign unto the mortgagee, executors, administrators and assigns, all and singular, the goods, chattels, particularly mentioned and described in the schedule hereunto annexed, marked "A." To have and to hold, all and singular, the said goods, chattels, hereinbefore granted, bargained, sold and assigned, or mentioned, or intended so to be, unto the mortgagee, executt>r8, administrators and assigns, to the sole and proper use and behoof of the mortgagee, execu- tors, administrators and assigns, forever. Provided always, and these presents are upon this express condition, that if the mortgagor executors or adminis- trators, do and shall well and truly and do and shaU well and truly save harm- less the mortgagee from Then these presents, and every matter and 790 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.flDIA. thing herein contained shall cease, deter- mine, and be utterly void, to all intents and purposes, anything herein contained to the contrary thereof in anywise not- withstanding : And the mortgagor, for executors and atlniinistrators, shall and will warrant and forever defend by these presents, all and singular the said goods, chattels and property unto the mortgagee , executors, administrators and assigns, against the mortgagor, executors and administrators, and against all and every other person or persons whomsoever. And the mortgagor doth hereby, for executors and administrators, cove- nant, promise and agree to and with the mortgagee , executors, administra- tors and assigns, or in case the mortgagor shall attempt to sell or dispose of or in any way part with the possession of the said goods and chattela, or any of them, or to remove the same, or any part thereof out of the , or suffer or permit the same to be seized or taken in execution without the consent of the mortgagee , executors, adminis- trators or assigns to such sale, removal or disposal thereof first had and obtained in writing, then, and in such case, it shall and may be lawful for the mortgagee, executors, administrators or assigns, with or their servant or servants, and with such other assistant or assistants, as may re(|uire at any time during the day, to enter in and upon any lands and tene- ments, houses and premises wheresoever and whatsoever, where the said goods and chattels, or any part thereof mayJje, and for such persons to break and force open any doors, locks, bars, bolts, fastenings, hinges, gates, fences, houses, buildings, enclosures and places, for the purpose of taking possession of and removing the said goods and chattels : And upon, and from and after the taking pos-'ession of such goods and chattels as aforesaid, it shall and may be lawful, and the mort- ttagee , executors, administrators or assigns, and each or any of them, is and are hereby authorized and empowered to sell the said goods and chattels, or any of them, or any part thereof, at public auc- tion or private sale, as to them or any of them may seem meet : And from and out of the proceeds of such sale, in the first place, to pay and reimburse or themselves, all such sum and sums of money as may then be due by virtue of these presents, and all such expenses as may have been incurred by the mortgagee , executors, adminis- trators or assigns in consequence of the default, neglect or failure of the mort- gagor , executors, administrators or assigns, in the payment of the said sum of money, with interest thereon, as above mentioned, or in consequence of such sale or removal, as above mentioned, and in the next place to pay unto the mortgagor , executors, administrators and assigns, all such surplus as may remain after such sale, and after payment of all such sum or sums of money, and interest thereon, as may be due by virtue of these presents at the time of sucli seizure, and after pay- ment of the costs, charges and expenses incurred by such .eizure and sale as afore- said. Provided that the mortgagee , ex- ecutors, administrators or assigns, may in default of payment of any of the payments of interest or instalments hereinbefore mentioned, or any part thereof, distrain for the whole principal sum then unpaid. Provided always, nevertheless, that it shall not be incumbent on the mortgagee , executors, administrators or assigns, to sell and dispose of the said goods and chattels ; but that in case of default of payment of the said sum of money, with interest thereon as aforesaid, it shall and may be lawful for the mortgagee , executors, administrators or assign?, peaceably and quietly to have, hold, use, occupy, possess and enjoy the said goods and chattels, without the let, molestation, eviction, hindrance or inteiriiption of the mortgagor , executors, adminis- trators or assigns, or any of them, or any other person or persons whomsoever : And the mortgagor doth hereby further covenant promise and agree, to and with the mortgagee, executors, administra- tors and assigns, that in case the sum of money realized under anj' such sale as above mentioned shall not be sufficient to pay the whole amount due at the time of such sale, that the mortgagor, execu- tors or administrators, shall and will forth- with payor cause to be paid unto the^j mortgagee, executors, administratora and assigns, all such sum or sums of 1 money, with interest thereon at the rafe | aforeeaid as may then be remaining due ; DIA. FORMS OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS. 791 Bum and sums of an may then be BO presents, and all iT have been incurred executorK, adininis- consequence of the failure of the mort- rs, administrators or m\ of the said sum of it thereon, as above sequence of such sale re mentioned, and in r \ii»to the mortgagor , nistrators and assigns, nay remain after such lont of all such sum or d interest thereon, as le of these presents at eizure, and after pay- chaiges and expenses izure and sale as afore- e mortgagee , ex- tors or assigns, may in of any of the payments jtalments hereinbefore f part thereof, distraui npal sum then unpaid. s, nevertheless, that it bent on the mortgagee , Iniinistrators or assigns, of the said goods and ^ in case of default of id sum of money, with aforesaid, it shall and 10 mortgagee , strators or assign?, ,;tly to have, hold, use, I enjoy the said goods nt the let, molestation, or inteiriiption of executors, adminis- or any of them, or any persons whomsoever : or doth hereby further and agree, to and with executors, adminiatra- lat in case the sum of naer any such sale »9 ihall not be sufficient to ,unt due at the time of mortgagor, .,«?«'*;"■ ,or8, shall and will forth- ; to be paid unto the^ ■ecutors, administrators such sum or sums ot est thereon at the rate hen be remaining due ; And the mortgagor doth put the mort- gagee in the full possoHsion «f said goods and chattels by doliveriu!,' to in the name of all the said goi)ds and chattels, at the sealing and delivery hereof. And the mortgagor covenant with the mortgagee that ho will, during the con- tinuance of this moifgage, and any and every renewal thereof, insure the chattels and property liereinbeforo mentioned against loss <»r damage by fire, in some insurance office (authorized to transact business in Canada) in the sum of not Lss than dollars, and will pay all premiums and moneys necessary for that purpose, as the same become due ; and will, on demand, assign and deliver over to the said Mortjiagoe , executors and adminisiratora, the policy or policies of insurance and receipts thereto apper- taining : Provided, that if on default of payment of said premium or sums of money by the mortgagor , the mortgagee , executors or administrators, may pay the same, and such sums of m.mey shall be added to the debt hereby secured (and shall bear interest at the same rate, from the day of such payment), and shall be repayable with the principal sum hereby secured. In wi ness whereof, the parties to these presents have hereunto Bet their hands and seals. Signed, Healed and delivered ) in the presence of j CoL'NTY OF "i I, To unt : ) make oath and say : That the foregoing mortgage truly sets forth the agreement entered into between myself and therein named, and truly states the extent of the liability in- tended to be created by such agreement, and covered by the foregoing mortgage. That the foregoing mortgage is executed in good faith, and for the express purpose of 8f curing That the foregoing mortgage is not ex- ecuted for the purpose of securing the goods and chattels mentioned in the schedule attached hereto, marked " A," against the creditors of the said , or to prevent such creditors from recover- ing any claim which they may liave against the said Sworn before me, at the in iho County of this day of the year of our Lord 183 of in A Com.ni88ioncr in B. R., &c. County ov ") I, of the of > in tlie county of , Tu wit : ) and Province of Ontario, make oath and say : 1. That I was personally present and dill see the within Chattel Mortgage and duplicate thereof duly .signed, sealed and executed by , the parties thereto. 2. That the saia Chattel Mortgage and duplicate were executed at the , iu the said County of 3. That I know the said part 4. That I am a subscribing witness to the said Chattel Mortgage and duplicate. S^vorn before mo, at the , in the County of this day of , in the f year of our Lord 188 . ; ".I A Commissioner for taking Affidavits ia B. R., &c. DISCHAROE OF MORTGAGE. Province of Ontario, ) -p. . . , „ , TO WIT • ( Dominion of Canada TO THE RKGISPRAR OF THE Do Certify, that has satisfied that all money due on or to grow due on a certain mortgage made by to which mortgage bears date the day of A. D. 18 , and was registered in the Registry Offiee for the I on the day of A. D. 18 I at minutes past o'clock noon, in Liber for the as No. That such mortgage has been assigned. (Here state whether mortgage assigned or not.) And that the person entitled 792 THE HOME, FAEM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP.^DDIA. by law to receive the money, and that such mortgage is therefore discharged. Witness hand this day of A. D. 18 Witness Ontario : County of I, Tu wit : ) make oath and say 1. That I was personally present and did see the wi\hin certificate of discharge of mortgage du'./ signed and extcuted by the part thereto. 2. The "^ the said instrument was execu- at the 3. That I know the said 4. That I am subscrbing witness to the instrument. Sworn before me in the county of this day of in the year of our Ijord, 188 A Commissioner for taking affidavits in B. 11., &c. CONVEYANCES OF LANDS ON SAI.E BY MORTGAGE. This indenture, made the day of — , in the year , between A. B., of, &c., of the one part, and 0. D. , of, itc. , of the other part. Whoroas, E. F. , of, &c., did, by a certain ind' nture of Mortgage dated Se day or , in the year , for f).e consideration of , bargain and sell unto the said A. B., and to his heirs and assigns forever, all that certain, &c. ; together with all and singular the here- ditaments and appurtenances thereunto belonging : To have and to hold the said granted and bargained premises, with the appurtenances, unto the said A. B. , his heirs and assigns, to the only proper use and behoof of the said A. B., his heirs and assigns forever ; provided, neverthe- less, and the said indenture of mortgage was thereby declared to be upon condition, that if the said E. F. , his heirs, executors, or administrators, should well and truly pay unto the said A. B. , his executors, administrators., or assigns, the just and full sum of , with lawful interest for the same, on or before the day of , in the year , according to the condi- tion of a certain bond or writing, obliga- tory, bearing even date with the said in- denture of mortgage, that then, and in such case, the said indenture, and the said writing obligatory, should be void and of no effect; and the said E. F. did, by the said indenture, for himself, his heirs and assigns, agree with the said A. B. , his heirs, executors, administrators, and as- signs, that in case it should so happen, that the said sum of , and the inter- est for the same, should be due and unpaid at the time limited for the payment there- of, in the whole or in part thereof, that then it should and might be lawful for the said A. B. , his heirs or assigns, at any time after default in payment, to liargain, sell, and dispose of the said mortgagea premises, with the appurtenances, at pub lie vendue, and out of the moneys to arise from the sale thereof, to retain and keep the said sum of dollars, end the in- terest, or so much thereof as might be due, together with the costs and charges of such sale, or sales, rendering the overplus money, if any, to the said E. F. , his heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns : And, whereas the said E. F. did not pay to the said A. B. the said sum of money, with the interest, at the time limited for payment, or at any time since : and the said A. B. hath, therefore, in pursuance of the authority so given to him as afore- said, and according to the statute in such case made and provided, caused the pre- mises to be advertised and sold at public auction ; and the same has been struck of! to the said C. D. , fur , being the high- est sum bid fur the same. Now, therefore, this indenture witne&s- eth, that the said A. B. , in pursuance of the power and statute aforesaid, and also for and in consideration of the said sum of , to him in hand paid, by the said C. D. , and at and before the ensealing and delivery hereof, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged, hath grar.ted, bargained, aliened, released, and con- firmed, and by these presents doth grant, bargain, sell, alien, release, and confirm unto the said C. D. , and to his heirs and assigns forever, all the farm, piece, or parcel of land above mentioned, together with the hereditaments and appurtenan- cej, as the same is described and conveyed by the said indenture of mortgage ; and all the estate, right, -title, interest, claim, and demand at law and in equity, of him the said A. B., and also of .'he said E. F., as far forth as the said A. B. hath power EDIA. FOKMS OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS. 793 ;e, that then, and in jdenture, and the said ihould be void and of aid E. F. did, by the himself, his heirs and the said A. B., his Jministrators, and as- it should so happen, )f , and the inter- luld be due and unpaid for the payment there- in part thereof, that night be lawful for the irs or assigns, at any a payment, to bargain, f the said mortgagea appiTtenances, at pub of the moneys to arise of, to retain and keep - dollars, pud the in- liereof as might be due, jsts and charges of auch idering the overplus lie said E. F. , his heirs, istrators, or assigns; said E. F. did not pay ,he said sum of money, it the time limited for f time since : and the lerefore, in pursuance I given to him as afore- to the statute in such vided, caused the pre- sed and sold at public nine has been struck oft ,r , being the high- same. this indenture witne&s- !l. B., in pursuance of ite aforesaid, and also ation of the said sum hand paid, by the said before the ensealing ", the receipt whereof idged, hath grai.ted, released, and con- ) presents doth grant, release, and confirm and to his heirs and I the farm, piece, or e mentioned, toj^ether lents and appurtenan- lescribed and conveyed ure of mortgage ; and •title, interest, claim, and in equity, of him also of ihe said E. F., said A. B. hath power to grant and convay the same, of, in and to the premises, and every part and parcel thereof : To have and to hold tho said above granted and bargained premises, with the appurtenances, unto the said C, D., his heirs and assigns, to the sole and only proper use and behoof of the said C. D., his heirs and assigns, forever. In witness, &c., [as in General Form of Agieement]. DEED OF GIFT OF PERSONAL ESTATE. Know all men by these presents, that I, A. B., of, )'':c., in consideration of the nat- ural love and affection which I have and hear for my son, C. B. , and also for divers other good causes and considerations, I, the said A. B. , hereunto moving, have given, granted, and confirmed, and by these presents, do give, grant and confirm unto the said C. B. , all and 8in:|ular, my goods, chattels, leases, and personal estate whatsoever, in wliose hands, custody, or possession soever they be : To have, hold, and enjoy, all and singular, the said goods, chattels, and personal estate, aforesaid, unto the said C. B., his exeoitors, admin- istrators, and assigns, to the only proper use and behoof of the said C. B. , his ex- ecutors, administrators, and assigns, for- ever. And I, the said A. B. , all and sin- gular, the said goods, chattels, personal estate, and other the premises, to the said C. B., his executors, administrators, and assigns, against me, the said A. B. , my executors and administrators, and all and every other person and persons, whatso- ever, shall and will warrant, and forever defend, by these presents ; of all and sin- gular which said goods, chattels, personal estate, and other premises, 1, the said A. B. , have put the said C. B. in full posses sion, by delivering to him one pewter dish, at the time of the sealing and delivery of these presents, in the name of the whole premises hereby granted. In witness, &c,, [as in General Form of Agreement.] DEED OF GIFT BY A FATHER TO A SON OF HIS PERSONAL PROPERTY, ON CONDITIONS. I This indenture, made the, &c. , between A. B., of, &c., of the one part, and C. B., | of, Ac, of the other part. Whereas, the | said A. B , being the father of the said C. i B., by reason of his age and infirmitiei), is not capable of attending to his estate and affairs i. ; formerly, and has therefore agreed, for advancement of the said C, B., to make over his property to the said C. B., so that the said C. B. should pay tho debts of the said A. B. , and afford him a maintenance as is hereinafter mentioned : Now this indenture Witncsseth, That the said A. B., in order to carry the said a^'recment into effect, and in consideration of the natural love and affection which he hath for and towards his son, the said C. B. , and of the provisoes, covenants, and .agreements, hereinafter mentioned, by the said C. B. , to be observed and performed, hath given, granted, bargained, sold, and assigned, and by those presetits doth give, gran*-, bargain, sell, and assign, unto the said C. B. , his executors, administrators, and assigns, all and singular, his house- hold goods fliid implements of household, stock iu trade, debts, rights, credits, and personal estate, whereof he is now pos- sessed, or in any way interested in or en- titled unto, of what nature or kind soever the same are, or wheresoever or in whose- soever handd they be or may be found, with their and every of their rights, mem- bers, and appurtenances : To have and to hold the said goods, household stufl', stock in trade, debts, rights, and personal es- tate, and the other the premises, unto the 3 iid 0. B. , his executors, administrators, and assigns, forever, without rendering any ace 'unt or being therefor in any wise accountable to tho said A. B. , his heirs, executors, or aduunistrators, for the same. And the said B. , for himself, his heirs, executors, and aduiinistrators, doth cove- nant, proiiiise, grant, and agree, to and with the said A. B. , his executors, odmin- istrators, and assigns, in manner and form following, that is to say : that he, the said C. B., his heirs, executors, and adminis- trators, shall and will settle, pay, dis- charge, and satisfy, or cause to be settled, paid, discharged, atid satisfied, all ac- counts, debts, judgments, and demands, of every iiature and kind whatsoever, now outstanding, against, or now due from or payable by the said A. B. , or for the pay- ment of which tho said A. B. shall be liable, or be held liable either at law or equity, on account of any matter, cause, or thing heretofore had, suffered, done, or performed, and at all times hereafter, free, discbarge, and keep harmless, and 794 THE HOME, FAUM AND BUSINESS CYCLOP-EDIA. indemnitied, the said A. B. , his heirs, executors, adniiiiistrators, from all ^iid every such acc(.unts, debts, judymtnts, and demands, and from all actions, duits, antl damages, that may to him or them arise, by reason of the non-payment there- of ; and moreover, that he, the said C. li., his heirs, executors, and administrators, shall and will yearly, and every year, during the term of the natural life of the said A . B. , by four equal (juarterly pay- ments, the iirst to hcj^in on the day of next, well and truly pay, or cause to be paid, to the said A. B. , or his assigns, the sum of , for, or toward his sup- port and maintenance, or find or provide for him sulticient meat, drink, washing, lodging, apparel, and attendance, suitable to his estate and sittialion, at the choice and election, fiom time to time, of the said A. B, Provided always, and upon this condi- tion, and it is the true intent and mean- ing of these presents, that if the said C. B. , his heirs, txecutors, and administra- torp. shall neglect or refuse to pay the accounts, deljtf, judgments, and demands, according to the covenant aforesaid, or shall suffer the said A. B. to be put to any cost, charge, trouble, or expense, on ac- count of the same, or shall neglect or re- fuse to pay the said annual sum, in man- ner aforesaid, or to tind find provide for the said A. B. as aforesaid, that then, in all, any, or either of the cases aforesaid, it shall and may be lawful to and for the said A. B., all and singular, the premises hereby granted to take, repossehsi, aad en- joy, as in his former estat •. In witness, &c. ins in General Form of Aijreewent]. A WILL OF REAL ESTATE The last will and testament of A. C, &o. I, A. C, considering the uncertainty of this mortal life, and being of sound mind and memory (blessed be Almighty God for the same !;, do make and publish this my last wi.l and testament, in manner and form following (that is to say) : First, I give and bequeath unto my beloved wife, J. C, the stim of . Item, I give and bequeath to my eldest son G. v., the sum of . Hscri'>e the will, it maij he attested by his acknoided(jment in tlie following form.] The above instrument of one sheet (i»c, of two sheets) was, at the date thereof, declared to us by the testator, A. C, to be his last will and testament ; and he then ackr.owledged to each of us, that he had subscribed the same ; and we at his retjuest, sign our names hereto as attesting witnesses. I). F. , residing at , in County. G. H., residing at , in County. CODICIL TO A WILL. Whkreas I, A. C. , of, itc, have made my last will and testament in writing. DIA. FORMS OF LEGAT^ DOCUMENTS. 705 the sum of ; a^raciea or sums of er to be paid to the ■s, within six months I farther give and jldest son O. C. hh all the messuage or lying, and being in, U my other freehold I h(jld to him the said issigus forever. And QCiiueath to my said . and F. C, all my ud in all those mes- i, with the appurlen- e'qually to be divided d lastly, as to all the emainder (>i my per- and chattels, of what soever, i givo and I beloved wife, J. ^-y 3 executrix, of this my lent, hereby revokuig me made, •eof, 1 have hereunto seal, the day of f our Lord one thous- A. C. [l. s.] l-vuneut, consisting of sheets), was iiow here the testator, in the us ; and was at the by him to be his last t ; and we, at his anies hereto as attest- nt it , in County. lit , in County. .,• do not sec the testator t ma II l>e attested bij Iua tit,: following form.] ment of one sheet {or, ,, at the date thereof, the testator, A. C. to id testament ; and he to each of us, that he , same ; and we at lus imes hereto as attestm^ \n - . in County. • County. silver coffee-pot. by my last will bearing date, Ac. [and have thereby, &c., ifec.]. Now I do by this my writing, which I hereby declare to be a codicil to my said will, to be taken as part thereof [will and direct &c., Sic], give and bef|ueath to my niece M. S,, one gold watch, one lar^e diamond ring, and one -And whereas, in and a-'d testahient, I have given and bequeathed to my daughter-in- law G. H., the sum cf , 1 do hereby order and declare, that my will is that only the sum of be paid unto her, in full of the said legacy I have as afore- said given and beijueathed unto her ; and that the remaining part of the said legacy, be given and paid to my nephew E. (i. And lastly it is my desire that this my present codic'1 be annexed to, and made a part of my last will and testament, to all intents and purposes. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal this day of , &c. A. C. [l. s.] The above instrument of one sheet was, •it the date thereof, declared to us by the the testator, A, C, to be a codicil to be annexed ,to liis last will and testament ; anil he acknowledged, to each of us, thrt ho had subscribed the same ; and we at his recjuest, sign our names hereto as attesting witnesses. D. F. , residing at , in County. (i. H., residing at in County. TO A V/ILL. C.,of, iVc, have made testament in wntrng, GENERAL FORM, DISPOSING OF BOTH REAL AND PERSONAL ESTATE. Ik the name of God, Amen. I, A. B. , itc. , being in good bodily health, and of soiuid and disposing mind and memorj', calling to mind the frailty and uncertainty of human life, and bt ing desirous of settling my worldly affairs, atid directing how the estate with which it has pleased (!od to bless me, shall bo disposed of after my dtceaao, while I have strength and capacity so to do, do make and pub- lish this my last will and testament, hereby revoking and inaking null and void all other last wills and testaments hy me heretofore made. And, first, I commend my immortal being to Him who gave it, and my body to the tiarth, to bo buried with little expense or ostentation, by my executors hereinafter named. And as to my worldly estate, and all the property, real, personal, or mixed, of which I shall die seized and possessed, or to which I shall be entitled at the time of my decease, I devise, bei|ueath, and dis- pose thereof in the manner following, to wit : Imprimis. My will is that all my just debts and funeral charges shall, by my executors hereinafter named, be paid out of my estate, as soon after my decease a* shall by thom be found convenient. Item. I give, devise, and bequeat'i to my beloved wife C. li. , all my househidd furniture, and my library in my mansioi> or dwelling-house, my pair of horses, coach, and chaise, and their harness ; ami also (ifteen thousand dollars, in money to be paid to her by my executors herein- after named, within six months after my decease ; To have and to hold the same to, her, and her executors, fidministrator*, and assigns forever. I also give to her the use, improvement, and income of my dwelling-house, land and its appurten- ances, situated in , my warehouse, land, and its apptirtenances, situated in , to have and to h(dd the same to her for and during her natural life. Item. 1 give and beqtieath to my honoured mother, t). B. , two thousand dollars, in money, to be paid to her by my executors hereinafter named, within six months after my decease , to be for the sole use of herself, her heirs, execu- tors, administrators, and assigns. Item. 1 give, devise, {vnd bequeath to my son, E. B., the reversion or remainder of my dwelli.ig or mansion-house, land, and its appurtenances, situated in , and all profit, income, and advantage that may result therefrom, from and after the decei'se of my beloved wife C.B. ; To have and to hold the same to him. the said E. B , his heirs and assigns, from and after the decease of my said wife, to his ami their use and behoof forever. Item. 1 give devise atid betnieath to my son F. B. , the reversion or remainder of my warehouse, land, and its appurten- ances, situated in , and all, the prolit, income, and advantage that may result therefrom, from and after the decease of my beloved wife C. B. ; To have and to hold the same to the said F, B. , his heirs and assigns, from and after the decease of 79G THE HOME, FAIiM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. my said wife, to hia and their use and behoof forever. Item. All the rest and residue of my ostate, real, personal or mixed, of which I shall die seized and possessed, or to which I shall be entitled at the time of my decease, I give, devise, and bequeath, to be equally divided to and among my «:iid sons, E.B. and F. B. And, Lastly. I do nominate and appoint my 6on3 E. B. and F. B., to be the executors of this my last will and testament. In testimony, whereof, I, the said A.B. , have to this my last will and testament, contained on three sheets of paper, and to every sheet thereof subscribed my name, and to this the last sheet thereof I have here subscribed my name, and iithxed my seal this, day of , in the year of our Lord one thousand eiyht hundred and . A. B. [l. s.] This will must be attested in the same laanner as in the preceding forms. * DEVISE FROM A HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE. OF AN ESTATE FOR LIFE IN LIEU OF DOWER ; REMAINDER TO HIS CHILDREN AS TENANTS IN COMMON. Item. I give and devise unto my said "wife all that my said messuage or tene- ment, with the appurtenances, situate itc, with the lands and hfreditaments there nd part, and to his assigns forever, all that certain lot &c. , together with all and singular the hereditaments and appurtenances thereunto belonging, or in any wdso appertaining, and the reversion, and reversions, remainder and remainders, rents, issues, and profits thereof ; and also all the estate, right, title, interest, dower, possession, f^liim, and demand whatsoever, of the said parties of the tirst part, of, in, and to the same, and every part thereof, with appurtenances : To have and to hold the sjvid hereby granted premises, with the appurtenances, unto the said party of the second part, his heirs, and assigns, to his, and their only proper use, benefit, and behoof for- ever. Provided always, and these pre- sents are upon this condition, that if tho said parties of the first part, their heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns, shall pay unto the said party of the second part, his executors, administrators, or assigns, the sum of , on or before the day of , which v/ill bo in the year , with interest, according to the condition of a bond of tho said F. F., to the said L. M. , bearing oven date here- with, then these presents shall become void, and the estate hereby granted shall cease and utterly determine. But if default shall bo made in the payment of the said sum of money, or the interest, or of any part thereof, at the time herein- before specified for the payment thereof, the said parties of the first part, in sujh case, do hereby authorize and fully em- power the said party of tho second part, his executors, administrators, and assignc, to sell the said hereby granted preraiseB, DIA. FORMS OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS. •97 BY HUSBAND AND lacle the day r of our Lord one dred and , the city of , J. his wife, of the M., of said citiy, nd part, ivitnesscth: of tho first part, for o f the sum of , ada to them in hand lereof is hereby ac- granted, bargained, sonveyed. and con- le presents do grant, ien, release, convey, the said party of the his assigns forever, kc, together with all hereditaments and iunto belonging, or in ig, and the reversion, inder and remainders, protits thereof ; and right, title, interest, r\mn, and demand ) said parties of the lid to the same, and with appurtenances : old the said hereby .ththe appurtenances, ;y of the second part, ^118, to his, and their nefit, and behoof for- ways, and these pre- condition, that if the tirst part, their heirs, i, or assigns, shall party of the second administrators, or -, on or before the ,vhich will bo in the erest, according to the of the said F. F., to aring even date here- rcsents shall become hereby granted shal y determine. But " ade in the payment of ney, or tho interest, or , at the time herein- the payment thereof, the first part, in such uthorize and fully em- •ty of the second part, inistrators, and assign?, ■oby granted premises, at public auction and convey the same to the purchaser, in fee simple, agreeably to the act in such cases made and provided, out of the moneys arising from such sale, to retain the principal and interest whioli shall then be due on the said bond, together with all costs and charges, and pay the overplus (if any) to the said F. F. , l)arty of t' a first part, his heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns. Tho mortgagor covenants that he has a good title to the lands in ({Utstion, and that he has done no act to encumber the same. The mortgagor covenants that he will insure the mortgaged premises for not less than the sum of . The mortgagee on default shall have (juiet possession of the mortgaged premises. In witness whereof, the parties to these presents have hereunto set tlieir hands and seals, the day and year first above written. Sealed and deli v"- ered in the pre- sence of John Smith. Francis Fouest ft. s.l Julia Fokest. [l. s.l jf. A MORTGAGE GIVEN FOR PART OF THE PURCHASE MONEY FOR LAND. This Indenture, made the day of , in the year of our Lord , between A. B. , of the city of , merchant, of the first part, and li. T., of the said city, esquire, of the second part, witncHseth : That the said party of the first part, forand in consideration of the sum of three thousand dollars, lawful money of Canada, to him in hand paid, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged, hath granted, bargained, sold, aliened, released, conveyed, and confirmed, and by these presents doth grant, bargain, sell, alien, release, convey and confirm, unto the said party of the second part, and to his heirs and assigns forever, all those tliree certain lots, pieces and parcels of land, situate, lying, and being, &c. ; the said three lots of land being part of the pre- mises this day conveyed to the said A. B. by the said R. T. and his wife, and these presents are given to secure the payment of part of the consideration money of the said premises ; together with all and singular the hereditaments and appurten- ances thereto belonging, or in any wise appertaining, and the reversion aud reversions, remainder and remainders, rents, issues and profits thereof, and also, all the estate, right, title, interest, dower, possession, claim, and demand whatso- ever, of the said party of the first part, of, in, and to the same, and every part thereof, with the appurtenances. To have and to hold the said hereby granted premises, with the appurtenances, unto the said party of Uie second jjart, his heirs, and assigns, to his and their only proper use, benetit, and behoof forever. Provided always and these presents are upon this condition, that if the said party of tho first part, lii.s heirs, executors, administra- tors, and assigns, shall pay unto the said party of the second piirt, his executors, administrators, or assigns, the sum of three thousand dollars, lawful money aforesaid, on or before the day of next, with interest thereon at tho rate of six per cent, per annum, payable half yearly, on the first days of May and November in each year, until the whole principal sum shall be fully paid and satisfied, according to the condition of tho bond of the said A. B. , to the said B. T. , bearing even date herewith, then these presents, and the estate hereby granted shall cease and be void. And if default shall be made in the payment of the said sum of money, or the interest, or of any part thereof, at the time here- inbefore specified for the payment thereof, the said party of the first part in each case doth hereby authorize and fully empower the said party of the second part, his executors, administrators, and assigns, to sell the said hereby granted premises at 'public -fiuction, and convey the same to the purchaser, in fee simple, according to law, and out of the moneys arising from such sale to retain the principal and interest which shall then be due on tho siid bond, together with all the costs and charges, and tho t)verplus (if any) pay to the said party of the first part, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns. And it is also agreed, by and between the parties to these presents, that until the payment of the said princi- pal and interest moneys in full, it shall be lawful for the party of the second part, hia executors, adrainistrators, or assigns, to keep the buildings erected, or to be erected, upon the lands above con- 798 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPilODIA. veyed, insured aj^ainst loss or damage by lire, and tbeso presents ahall operate to secure tlie repayniont of the premium or premiums paid for eft'ecting or ccmtinning such insurance. Same covonants as to title and insur- ance as in preo^^ding form. In witness, itc, [^3 in viordjage oflandu hy Uuithaiid and Wife. ] MORTGAGE ON GOODS OR CHATTELS. To all to whom these presents shall come : Know ye that 1, A. B., of , party of the lirst part, for securing the jiayment of the money hereinafter men- tioned, and ill consideration of tlie sum of one dollar to me duly paid by C. D. of , of the second part, at or before the ensealing and delivery of these presents, the receipt whereof is hereby acknow- ledged, having bargained and sold, and by these presents do grant, l)argain and sell unto the said party of the second part, two bay horses, and all otiier goods and chattels mentioned in the schedule here- unto annexed, and now in tlio jiossession of ; to have and to hold all and sin- gular the goods and chattels above bar- gained and sold, or intended so to be, unto the said party of the second part, his ex- ecutors, administrators and assigns, for- ever. And 1, the said party of the first part, for myself, my Iioirs, executors and administratois, all and singular, the said goods and chattels above bargaiued and sold unto the said party of the second part, his iieirs, executors, administrators and assigns, against me, the said party of the first part, and against all and every person or persons whomsoever, shall and will warrant and for ever defend ; upon condition, that if i, the said party of the first part, shall and do well and truly pay unto the said party of the second part, his executors, administrators, or assigns, the full sum of dollars, on the day of next, according to the tenor and effect of a certain promissory note bearing even date herewith, made by me in favour of the said CD., then these presents shall be void. And I, the said party of the first part, for myself, my executors, adminis- trators and assigns, do covenant and agree to and with the said party of the second part, his executors, administrators and as- signs, that in case default shall be made in the piyment of the said sum above mentioned, then it shall and may be law- ful for, and I, the said party of the first part, do hereby antliorize and ^snipower the said party of the second part, his exe- cutors, administrators and assigns, with the aid and assistance of any person or persons, to enter my dwelling house, store, and other premises, and such other place or places as the said goods or chattels arc or may be [)lacod, and take and carry away the said gijods and chattels, and to sell and dispose of the same for the best price they can obtain ; and out of the money arising tlierefrom, to retain and pay the said sum above mentioned, and all charges touch- ing the same, rendering the overplus (if any) unto me, or to my executors, admin- istrators or assigns. And until default be made in the payment of the s'lid sum of money I am to remain and continue in the •juiet and peaceable possession of the said goods and chattels and the full and free enjoyment of the same. In witness whereof, &o. [as in Mortgage of Lands by Husband and Wife]. POWER OF ATTORNEY TO COLLECT DEBTS. Know all men by these presents, that I A. B., of , have constituted, made, and appointed, and by these presents do constitute, make, and appoint T. U., of , to be my true and lawful attorney, for me and in my name and stead, and to my use, to ask, demand, sue for, levy, re- cover, and receive, all such sum and sums of money, debts, rents, goods, wares, dues, accounts, and other demands whatsoever, which are or shall be due, owing, payable, and belonging to me or detained from me, in any manner of ways or means whatso- ever, by I. K., his heirs, executors and administrators, or any of them, giving and granting unto :My said attorney, by these presents, my full and whole power, strength and authority in and about the premises, to have, sue, and take all lawful ways and and means, in my name, for the recovery thereof ; and upon the receipt of any such debts, dues, or sums of money aforesiiid, acquittances or other sufficient discharges, for me and in my name to make, seal and deliver ; and generally all an(' every other act and acts, thing and jtnings, device and devices, in the law whatsoever, needfii' and necessary to be done in and about the :uiA. FOKMS OF I-EGAL DOJUMEXTS. 790 the said sum above hivU and may be law- lid party of the first horize and empower aocond part, his ext- ra and assii^ns, with ICO of any person or dwelling house, store, and such other place goods or chattels are id take and carry away liattela, and to sell and for the best price they t of the money arising and pay the said sum lul all charges touch- lering the overplus (if I my executors, admin- Aud until default be mt ot the s'vid sum of ain and continue in the i possession of the saitl and the full and free lame. !of, &c. [rt.vi/i Mor^t/cxgc ud and Wife]. TEY TO COLLECT DEBTS. y these presents, that 1 ave constituted, made, ,d by these presents do and appoint T. U., of |ue and lawful attorney, name and stead, and to maud, sue for, levy, re- all such sum and sums uts, goods, wares, dues, III- demands whatsoever, be due, owing, payable, lie or detained f roui me, ways or means whatso- Is heirs, executors and any of them, giving ami said attorney, by these Id whole power, strength nd abimt the premises, ake all lawful ways and name, for the recovery the receipt of any such [ns of money aforesaid, her sufhcient discharges, |name to make, seal and ally all an(' every otlier and itnin;^s, device and ,w whatsoever, needful le done in and about the premises, for mo and in my name to do, execute and perform, as largely and am- ply, to all intents and purposes, as I might '.r could do if personally present, or as the matter recplired morespecial authority than is herein given ; and attorneys, one or more under him, for the purpose aforesaid, to make and constitute, and again at plea- sure to revoke, ratifying, allowing and iiolding, for firm and effectual, all and whatsoever my said attorney sliall lawful- ly do in and about the premises, by virtue hereof. In witness, S:c. [ax iit T'ou-er of Attur- rxy to i'fll and Lease Landii\, like power, and to do all lawful acts re- quisite for etl'ecting the premises ; hereby ratifying any ratifying and confirm- ing all that my said attorney, or his sub- stitute or substitutes, shall lawfully do by virtue hereof. In witness, &c. POWER TO RECEIVE DIVIDEND. Know all men by these presents, that I, A.R., of the , do authorize, constitute and appoint C. I), to receive from the casJiier of the I Sank of , the dividend now due to me on all stock standing to my name on the books of the said company, and receipt for the same ; hereby ratifying and confirming all that may lawfully be done in the premises by virtue hereof. In witness, «tc. GENERAL RELEASE OF ALL DEMANDS. Know all men by these presents, that I, A. B., of, &c., for and in consideration of the sum of , to me paid by CD., of, ivhs after date, I promise to pay or order, one hundred dollars, value received. (Sgd.) AN UNNEGOTIABLE NOTE. $1000. ToROMO, April 10, 188 . Three months after date, I promise to pay one thousand dollars, for value received. (Sgd.) A NEGOTLAELE NOTE. $1000. Toronto, April 19, 188 . Three months after date, I promise to pay , or order, one thousand dol- lars, for value received. (Sgd.) A NOTE OR DUE BILL, PAYABLE ON DEMAND. $100. Toronto,, April U, 188 . On demand 1 promise to pay- or order, one hundred dollars, with inter- est, for value received. (Sgd.) A NOTE BEARING INTEREST. $1C0. Toronto, May 1, 188 . Six months after date, I promise to psy | , or order, one hundred doUan with interest, for value received. (Sgd.) DIA. FORMS OF LEUAL DOCUMENTS. 803 NT EITHER TO QUIT PAY DOUBLE VALUE. you notice to quit, -—day of next, Bswage, lands, tene- inientB, which you uato at in the juntyof infail- reciuire and insist le of the said premises ute in such case made ,1 Notice to Quit, '»•/ :h surety. NTo, April 12, 188 . date, 1 promise to pay one hundred dollars, (Sgd.) OTIABLE NOTE. o>TO, April 10, 188 . after date, I promise to thousand dollars, tor (Sgd.) CLABLE NOTE. LONTO, April 19, 188 . after date, I promise to jrder, one thousand dol- lived. (Sgd.) UNPAYABLE ON DEMAND. ONTO,, April U, 188 . promise to pay— — "7"' fdred dollars, with inter- lived. (Sgd.) ^ARINQ INTEREST. foKONTO, May 1,188 . [er date, I promise to pay [er, one hundred dollars I value received. (Sgd.) A NOTE PAYABLE BY INSTALMENTS. ?3,000. Toronto, April 20, 188 . Foil value received, I promise to pay — — — , or order, three thousand dollars, in the manner following, viz., one thousand dollars in one year, one thousand dollars in two years, and one thoiisand dollars in three years, with interest on all said sums, payable semi-annually, without (.'.efalca- tion or discount. (S^d.) SEALED NOTE. 85,000. Toronto, May 8, 188 For v.alue received, I promise to pay or order, live thousand dollars, in three years from the date hereof, with in- terest, payable somi-annually, without de- falcation or discount. And in case of de- fault of my payment of the interest or principal aforesaid witli punctuality, I hereby empower any attorney-at-law, to be appointed by said Smith & Edgar, or their assigns, to appear in any court which said Smith & Edgar, or their assigns, may select, and commence and prosecute a suit against me on said note, to confess judg- ment for all and every part of the interest or principal on said note, in the payment of which 1 may be delinquent. Witness my hand and seal, this 8th day of June, A. D. 188 . Attest, . (Sgd.) DUE BILL PAYABLE IN GOODS. Due -, or bearer, fifty dollars in merchandise, for value received, payable on demand. (Sgd.) Toronto, May 3, 1882. ORDER FOR OOODS. Toronto, April, 16, 188 . Pleasb pay Mr, Jones, or order, one hundred dollars in merchandise, andcharge the same to account of (Sgd.) To . BILL OF EXCHANOE. $1,000 Toronto, April 20, 188 . Thirty days after sight, pay to the or- der of one thousand dollars, and charge the same to account of (S^'d.) To . A SET OF BILLS OF EXCHANGE. No. 188.— Ex. £300. Toronto, April 20, 188 . Three days after sight of this, my first of exchange (second and third unpaid), pay to , or order, three hundred pounds sterling, value received, and charge the same to account of (Sgd.) No. 188.— Ex. £300. Toronto, April 20, 188 . Three days after sight of this, my se- cond of exchange (first and third unpaid), pay to , or order, three hundred pounds sterling value received, andcharge the same to account of (Sgd.) No. 188.— Ex. £300. Toronto, April 8, 188 Three days after sight on this my third of exchange (first and second unpaid) pay to , or order, three hundred pounds sterling, value received, and charge the same to account of Sgd.) MONEY ORDER, Mb- Toronto, May 20, 188 . PtEA.SB pay , or order, one hun- dred dollars, and charge the same to ac- count of (Sgd.) NOTICE or NON-PAYMENT. To Bi5 GIVEN TO THE DRAWER AND END0R8EH.S. Toronto, Feb. 28, 188 . Please to take notice, thata certain bill of exchange, dated , for $1000, drawn by , on and accepted by and by you endonad, was this day protested for m 804 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPi^DIA. non-paynieut, and tho holders look to you for the payment thereof. YourB, Sec, J. T., Notary Public. To Mr. A B. RECEIPT IN FULT. OF ALL DEMANDS. $500 Toronto, March 28, 188 . liECEivEb of five hundred dol- lars, in full of ull demands against him. (Sgd.) RECaSIPT ON ACCOUNT. flOO Toronto, March 28, 188 . Reoeivki) of one hundred dollars to apply on account. (Sgd.) RECEIPT FOR MONET PAID FOR ANOTHER. 8iOO. ToKONT(j, March 28th, 188 . Received of one hundred dollars in full of all demands against . (Sgd.) GENERAL FORM OF ASSIGNMENT. TO BK WRITTEN OR ENDORSED ON THE BACK OF ANY INSTRUMENT. Know all men by these presents, that I the within named A. B. , in consideration of one hundred dollars to me paid by C. D. have assigned to the said C. D. , and his assigns, all my interest in the within writ- ten instrument, and every clause, article, or thing therein contained ; and I do here- by constitute the said C. D. , my attor- ney, in my name, but to his own use, and at his own risk and cost, to take all legal measures which may be proper for the complete recovery and enjoyment of the assigned premises, with power of substitution. In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this tenth day of May, one thousand eight hundred and sixty. Executed and delivered ) in th»! presence of ) A. B. seal] ASSIGNMENT OF A LEASE. Know all men by these presents, that I, the within named A. B. , tho leasee, for and in consideration of tho sum of one thousand dollars, to me in hand paid by C. D., of Ac, at and before tho sealing and delivery hereof (tho receipt whereof 1 do hereby acknowledge), have granted, assigned, and set over, and by these pre- sents do grant, ausign, and set over, unto the said C. D., his executors, administra- tors, and assigns the within indenture of lease, and all that messuage, i^c, therel y demised, with tho appurtenances ; ano also all my estate, right, title, term of yeard yet to come, claim and demand what- soever, of, in, to, or out of the same. To have and to hold the said messuage. Sec. , unto tho said C. D. , his executors, admin- istrators, and assigns, for the residue of the term within mentioned, under tho yearly rent and covenants within reserved and contained, on my part and behalf to be done, kept and performed. la testimony, Ac. [as in General Form of Ansignme'iU]. ASSIGNMENT OF A MORTGAGE. Know all men by these presents, that ( A. B., the mortgagee within named, for and in consideration of the sum of sixteen hundred dollars, to nie paid by C. D., of, &a, at and before the sealing and deliv- ery hereof (the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged), have granted, bargained, sold, assigned, and set over, and by these presents do grant, bargain, sell, assign and set over, unto the said C. D., hi& heirs, executors, administrators, and as- signs, the within deed of mortgage, and all my right and title to that messuage, &c., therein mentioned and described, to- gether with the original debt for wh h the said mortgage was given, and all evi- dence thereof, and all the rights and ap- purtenances thereunto belonging. To have and to hold all and singular the pre- mises hereby granted and assigned, or mentioned, or intended so to be, unto the said C. D. , his heirs and assigns, forever ; subject, nevertheless to the right and equity of redemption of the within named E. F., his heirs and assigns (if any they have), in the same. In testimony, &c. [as in Oeneral Form of Assignment.] lA. FORMS OF LEGAL DOCLJMENTd. 806 p A LEASE. >fle presenta, that I, B. , thti lesseo, for i)f the sum of <>no e in hand paid by before the &ca\m^ 10 receipt whereof 1 ge), have granted, , and by these pre- and set over, unto .cutors, administia- (vithin indenture of Buage, &.C., theroVy npurtenancea ; and ight, title, term of [U and demand what- ut of the same. To said messuage, Ac., lis executors, admin- 1, for the residue of intioned, under the lants within reserved y part and behalf to irformed. [us in General iorm F A MORTOAOE. these presents, that f se within named, for of the sum of sixteen me paid by C. D., of, he sealing and deliv- pt whereof is hereby 3 granted, bargained, letover, and by these bargain, sell, assign the said C. D., hia niinistratora, and as- sed of mortgage, and ,le to that messuage, led and described, to- ginal debt for wh h fas given, and all e vi- lli the rights and ap- ,nto belonging. 1" and singular the pre- ,ed and assigned, or ded so to be, unto the 1 and assigns, forever ; B8 to the right and u of the within named assigns (if any they [as in Qentral Form A88I0UMENT OF A PATENT. WuEREAs, letters patent bearing date day of in the year , were granted and issued by the gov- ernment of Canada, under the seal thereof, to A. B., of the town of , in the county of , in the Province of , for [here state tlio nature of the invention, in general terms, as in the pa- tent], a more particuhir and full descrip- tion whereof is annexed to the said letters patent in a schedule ; by which letters pa- tent the full and exclusive rigiit and li- berty of making and using the said inven- tion, and of vending the same to others to be used, was granted to the said A. B., his heirs, executors, and administrators, or assigns, for the term of fourteen years from the said date : Now know all men by those presents, that I, the said A. B. , for and in consider- ation of the sum of dollars, to me in hand paid (the receipt whereof is here- by acknowledged), have granted, assigned, and set over, and b}' these presents do grant, assign, and set over, unto C. D., of the town of , in the county of , and the Province of his execu- tors, a'':mini8trator8, and assigns, forever, the Pi.id letters patent, and all my right, title and interest, in and to the said invention, so granted unto me : To have and to hold the said letters patent and in- vention, with all benefit, profit, and ad- vantage thereof, unto the said C. D. , his executors, administrators, and assigns, in as full, ample, and beneficial a manner, to all intents and purposes, as I, the said A. 15. , by virtue of the said letters patent, may or might have or hold the same, if this assignment had not been made, for and during all the rest and residue of the said term of fourteen years. In testimony, &c, [as in General Form of Assignment]. A3SIQNI1ENT OF A POLICY OF INSURANCE. Know all men by these presents, that I, the within -named A. B., for and in con- sideration of the sum of , to me paid by C, D., of, &c., (the receipt where • of is hereby acknowledged), have granted, sold, assigned, transferred, and set over, and by these presents I do absolutely grant, sell, assign, transfer, and set over to him, the said CD., all my right, pro- perty, interest, claim, and demand in and to the within policy of insurance, which have already arisen, or which may here- after arise thereon, with full power to use my name so far as may bo necessary to enable him fully to avail himself of the interest horeiii assigned, or hereby in- tended to be assigned. The conveyance herein made, and the powers hereby given, are for myself and my legal representa- tives to said C. D. , and hi j legal repre- sentatives. In testimony, &o. of Asiiiijn>netU]. [as in General Form ASSIONMENT OF DEMAND FOB WAGES OR DEBT In consideration of $l(K) to mo in hand paid by M . D. , of the city or , the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged, I, L. C, of the same place, have sold, and by these presents do sell, assign, t Aosfer, and set over, unto the said M. D. , a cer- tain debt due from N. E., amounting to the sum of Z^oQ, for work, labour, and services, by rae performed for the said N. E. (or for goods sold and delivered to the said N. E.), with full power to sue for, collect, and discharge, or sell and assign the same in my name or otherwise, but at his own cost and charges ; and I do hereby covenant that the said sum of $150 is justly due as aforesaid, and that I have not done and will not do any act to hin- der or prevent the collection of the Bam& by the said M. D. Witness my hand, this April 10th, 18 . L. C. ASSIONMENT OF ACCOUNT ENDORSED THEREON. In consideration of $1, value received, I hereby sell and assign to M. D., the within account which is justly due from the within named N. E., and I hereby authorize the same. said M. D. , to collect the L. 0, Toronto, April 10th, 18 806 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. BOND TO A CORPORATION. Know all men by these presents, that I A. B,, of, (fee, am held and firmly bound unto the Insurance Company, in the sum of one thousand dollars, lawful money of Canada, to be paid to the said Insurance Company or assigns ; for which payment, well : .nd truly to be made, I bind myself, mv leirs, executors, and administrators, firmly by these pre- sents. Sealed with my seal. Dated the day of , one thousand eight hun- dred and . The condition of the above obligation is such, that if the above boimden A. B., his heirs, executors, or administrators, shall well and truly pay, or cause to be paid unto the above named Insur- ance Company or assigns, he just and full sum, &c. [as in Common Bond]. DIA. . Dated the hionsand eight hun- le above obligation ove bounden A. B., or administrators, pay, or cause to be amed Insur- signs, he just and ommon Bond]. MISCELLANEOUS TABLES. JttbccUancDue ^abk5. TABLE SHOWING HOW MANY DAYS A NOTE HAS TO RUN. Tlie following table will bo found very useful to book-keepers in calcu- lating the number of days a note has to run : — 3 Toaa- 1 January. . February . r H: § a August. . . 1 1 I" jOctober.. ; November ^December January SCa 31 53 90 120 89 151 181 212 243 212 273 304 334 February 334 365 337 3{Ki 28 59 120 1.50 181 242 273 303 Maich 30(J 305 31 365 335 61 92 122 153 184 214 245 275 April 275 245 334 30 61 91 122 153 183 214 241 May 276 304 365 31 61 92 123 15;^ 184 214 June 214 245 273 304 274 243 3.M 304 3G5 30 61 92 122 153 183 July 184 215 243 212 181 335 365 31 nday 15 j Tuesday 16, Wednesd. 17 Thursday )8|' Friday 19 .Saturday 2(t\ Sunday 21 Monday Tuesdny Wednesd Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesd. Thursday ^ I 3 _ llWednewl. 2iThu sday 31 Friday 4 .Saturday !t Sunday 6 Monday 7 Tueiday SiWednesd. 9 Thursday 10 Fridsy 11 Saturday 12 Sunday 13 Monday 14 Tuesday 15 We Tues*^Tuesday 19' Wednesd. 20 Thursday •21 j Fi irfay 22' Saturday n Sunday 24 1 Monday 25 Tue-day 26 Wednesti. '27 Thursday 28 Friday 29 Sal ur lay 30 Sunday 31 Mouday I.Sunday 1 2! Monday '2 3 Tuesday 3 4 Wednesd. 4 6 'lluirsday 5. f Friday (1 1 Saturday 1 8 Sunday 8 9 Monday 9 10 Tuesday 1 . 11 Wednescl. 11 12 Thursday 12 13 Friday 13 14 Saturday 11 15 Sunday 15 ]i> Mondiiy 111 17 Tuesday 17 1- Wodni'sd. IS 19| Thursday 19 '20, Fr.day 20 '21 Saturday 21 22 Swulay 22 23 Monday 23 24 Tuesday 24 '25, Wednesd. 25 2«;Thur8day 26 27 Friday 27 28 Saturday 28 '2[y Sunday '29 30 Monday 80 31 Tuesday 81 NOTB.— To a-'cer- tain any day of the week, first look in the table for the year required, aiiJ under the niimtlii are figures which reft r to the corres- pondiii); fltrorc al I he head of the co- lumns of days be- low For example: —To know on whal dayof the week M>y j4will he in the year 1883, iiitlio tftbieof 'years look f(rr 1883, land in a parallil I line, under Mny, is flj,'. 2, which dii-eiW to col. 2, in which it will bo seeii that May 4 (alls on Fri- day. t 1762 Mine «« 1772 from Jan. 1 to Sept.. 2. From 8ept. ,14 to Dec. 31 saim- as 1780. (Sept. 3-13 w-tre omitted,) indred Years from the re. 3 1 { 6 I 1 17 2 1 I 4 6 2 I 5 7 t* a. J S I « < en O , i« Q l-H O -- O -4 5 ft i eo M .~> 6 I 2 ! 4 I 7 1 2 !_ 1_ "I "i " 6 I 1 3 1 I 4 6 I 2 I 4 4 7 2 5 ' 7 6 113 6 1 2 I 5 i 7 3 ■ i 8 6 I 1 I 4 C 6 7 Tl 5 1 I 3 I I 3 j 6 I 1 I 4 i « 114 16 12,4 2 4 7 U 2 14 7,2 B'iT 5 1 1 1 3 7 2 "s 1 I I 3 ! 6 I 1 niiav iiiday silay Jneiwl. iirsday iday turday II da}/ inday esilay ednesd. urHday iday tuiday luiay indny it-sduy cdiiosd. lureday ■Iday .turday \niiay itulay icsday ediiesd. (uraday riday iturday itmlay oiiday uoHday 1'] Nors.— To a.'cer- Jlltain any day of tlie liweek, first look iii 4 I the table for tin' r lycar required, anJ ,; 'under the months -are figures wtiidi ' reftr to the coires- poudiiitt flKiifc? al il\e iiead of the co- lumns of days be- low Forexamiilt: —To know on what davof the week M«y ir, 14 will he in the year 1, :US83, iiithettthleof }7:!vear«loukforl8J*3 ii land in a paralM Talline. under May, i* l\ to c.d. 2. in which .-,.' 'it will be see.ithat May 4 falls- on Ff [day. ^ 1752 same n 1772 from Jan. 1 '" 2sHsept. 2. From Sept. 2»M14 to Dec. 31 sanie 30 as 1780. (Seut.S-l5| 81 'were omitted.) MISCELLANEOUS TABLES. 811 TABLE -Showing the Quantity of Garden Seeds required to plant a g:lvon space. DESIGNATION. Asparagus '• Roots.. Enir. Dwarf Ueanii Krench " Beans, po'e, larpe " " small Beets Broccoli and Kalo Ca!)bai{0 Cauliflower Carrot Celery Cucumber Crcfs Kgt Plant Endive Leek Lettuce Melon - . Nasturtium Onion Okra Parsley , Parsnip Pepper Peas Pumpkin Radish Saliify Spin age , Squash Tomato , Turnip Water Melon SPACE, AND QUANTITY OF SEEDS. 1 oz. produces 1000 plants, and requires a. bed 12 feet square. 1000 plant a bed 4 feet wide, 22h feet lona;. 1 quart plants from 100 to 160 feet of row, 1 II II 250 or 300 feet of row. 1 II It 100 hills. 1 II II 300 'I or 250 foet of row. 10 11)8. to the aero; 1 oz. pUnt-t 150 feet of row. 1 oz. ))lants 2500 plants, and re(|Uires 40 sipmre feet of tfronnd. Early sorts same a-i brocooii, and ro m •o i cts. 00 o> 9 ctj. r-t $ cts. Cts. 9 cts. t cts. 9 cts. 9 cts. 9 cts. 9 cti. 9 cti. 9 cts. 4 10 20 40 00 ^0 100 120 140 1 (to 180 2 00 2 20 5 J 2 26 ,50 76 100 125 1 50 175 2 00 2 25 2 60 2 75 15 30 00 90 120 1 50 1 80 2 10 2 40 2 70 300 3 30 t 17 3i 70 105 140 175 2 1C 2 45 2 80 8 15 3 60 3 85 u 20 40 80 120 1 to 200 2 40 2 80 3 20 3 00 400 4 40 9 £2 45 90 135 180 2 25 2 70 3 11 360 4 05 4 60 4 95 10 25 60 100 1 fO 200 2 60 3 00 3 50 4 00 4 50 500 5 50 U 27 55 1 10 1«-. 2 20 2 75 3 30 3 85 4 40 4 95 6 60 60O 12 30 (iO 1 20 1 SO 2 40 3 00 3fi0 4 20 4 80 6 40 600 660 13 .32 (i5 1 30 1 95 2 00 3 25 3!I0 4 55 5 20 5 85 6 50 7 15 14 35 70 140 2 10 2 80 3 .'.0 4 20 490 5 60 6 30 7 00 7 70 15 37 J 75 . 160 2 25 3 00 3 76 4 50 5 25 600 6 76 7 60 8 25 TABLE- Showing the Number of Ralls, Stakes, and Riders Required for each 10 Rods of Fence. Length of rail. Feet. 12 14 16i Deflection from right line. Feet. Length of panel. Number of panels. Feet. Feet. 6 8 7 1) 8 li Number of rails for each 10 rods 5 rails high 6 rails high 7 rails high 103 83 123 09 84 144 116 05 o 2 •■5) £5 S.-2^ 3 " 3 •- ■-^ 55 42 21 84 17 23 14 SI 2 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPEDIA. Table- Showing the Niunber of Drains required for an Acre of Land. The following Table shows the number of tiles of the different 'Icn^hs made, whi<'h arc rotiuired for an acre, and will be useful to those who may desire to purcluise just enough for u particular piece 'Of ground. DI8TAKCR APART. 'Drains 12 feet apart require " l.". '• " .... " 18 " " . .1 "21 " " ....| "24 " " .... "27 " "....' " 30 " " '.'.'.'.\ " 33 " 36 " ::::i 12-ineh Tiles. 3,630 2,904 2,420 2,074 l.e!."! 1,613 1,452 1,320 1,210 In reference to tile-pipe drains, it nuist be remembered that the ■tlitch ma.v be much narrower than when «toncs are used, thus mak- ing a considerable savinj; in the expense of ditr^'iii).'. The upper part of the earth is taken out witli a connnon s|iaoint. | Facts About Weeds, Dr. IJndley estimates as a low avcrapr? the following number of seeds from each of these four plants ; 1 plant of Groundsel produces 2,080 \ 1 " Dandelion " 2,740 ( 16,400 1 " Sow Thistle " 11.040 ( plants 1 " Spurge " 640) or enough seed from these four plants to cover three acres and a half, at three foot apart. To hoc this land, he says, will cost i68. (sterling) i)cr acre, and hence a man throws away r>s. 3d. a time, as often as he neglects to bend his back to pull up a young weed before it begins to fulfil the first law of nature. He recommends every , farmer, whose vertebral colunm will not ibend, to count the number of dandelions, 'sow thistles, etc., on the first square rod he can measure off. This operation may be repeated in tills country by applying all the a ove estimates to pigweed, burdock, fox-tail, chick-weed, ,aiid purslane. Table— Showing the Number of Loads of Manure and the Number of Heaps to each Lead required to each Acre, the Heaps at Given Distances Apart. Distance NlMBBR OF llEAI'S N A Load. of iicaiis apart, 1 <) 3 4 •■) 6 7 8 10 in yards. 3 538 269 179 134 108 89J 77 67 60 64 34 39.^ 1()8 132 99 79 66 .'i6V 49J 37 44 30), 4 Si03 1,-)1 101 76i 601 47- m 43 34 33i 26i 30J «i 239 120 79j 60 39| 30 24 6 194 97 64 48i 38; 27: 24i 21* 1!)', 6i 160 80 63 40 32 26} 22i 20 17} in 6 131 67 44 3:{, 27 224 19 16 15 Kli S* 11.-1 .'■)7. 38 28! 23 19 16 14; 12} Uj 7 99 49, 33 24: li): 16, 14 12 11 10 Vi 86 43 28 21 17 14 12} 12 10' 10 9 ?l 8 75i 37 33 25 19 U: 9 8 8i 67 22 16} 13, 11 l\ 8 7 63 60 30 20 l.--. 12 10 7 6 6 9i 63J 26 18 13i 10} 9 7} 6 6 61 10 48| 24i 16J 12 9i 8 7 6 6 IL Table -Showing the Niunber of Ralls and Posts required for each 10 Rods of Post and Rail Fence. Length of raU. Length of Panel. Number of panels. Numljer of panels. Number of rails for each 10 rods. Feet. Feet. 6 rails high. 6 rails high. 7 rails high. 8 rails high. 10 12 14 16* 8 10 12 14 208 16* 13| 11* 21 17 14 12 103 83 69 67 123 99 84 60 144 116 96 81 Ifift 133 109 03 '!':dia. s About WeedB, estimates aH a low avcrace iutii1)cr of seeds from each of Its: mlscl produces 2,080') elion " 2,740 ( 16,4nO riuttli! " 11.040 f plants ^,e " 540) a from these four plants to rcH and a half, at three feet e this land, he says, will cost per acre, and hence a man ris. 3d. a time, as often as lie end hiH hack to pull up a before it hcifins to fulfil the ture. He recommends every ic vertehral column will not it the number of dandelions, -tc, on the first square rod ire oCf. tion mav he repeated in this iplvins all the a 'jve estimates huVdock, foxtail, chick-weed. • of Heaps to each Load iss Apart. !ach 10 Rods of Post and i for each 10 rods. 7 rails high. 8 rails high. 144 116 05 81 1(» 133 109 03 MISCKLLANEOUS TABLES. 81S Measuring Land. Farmers often desire to lay cfT small portions of land for the purpose of experi- menting with manures, crops, etc. ; but sometimoa find diffijulty in doing it cor- rectly, for the lack of a few simple rules. The following tal)loand accompanying ex- planation, which wo copy from the Mew England Furni?r, carefully studied, will make the whole matter perfectly clear. ONE ACHK (MJNT.UNS TOO square rods ; 4,810 scpiareyard.? ; 43,- 5G0 square feet. ONE Ron CONTAIN.S 30'25 S(]uare yards ; 'J72 25 S(iuare feet. Onesciuare yard oontains nine square feet. THE SIDE OF .V .SQUARE TO CONTAIN one aero 20871 feet. Oiic-half aero.... 147-58 " . Oncthinl acre. ... 1 20 50 " , One-fcurthap a garden of half an acre, which will supply a moder- ate-sized family with vegetables through- out the year. Vegetable seoils, where carefully grown in this country, are (with a few exceptions) prtfomble to those im- ported ; but the utter c vrele.sauess mani- fested hy many in keeping ihom apart when growing is not to be recommended. 1 or.. 3 l|tH. 4 <)/.. toz. oz. 4 oz. i o/.. 8 oz. oz. oz. qt. pKt. oz. .Asi>arajfU!: Keans, of mi iris. Heet, of Nort-t. Uroecoli. Cauliflower. 4 oz. J oz. ^ oz. 2 oz. 1 pap. Cal)liaKe, of sorts I oz. k oz. qt. « S2 48 64 42 £6 25 33 60 60 •■ 50 ... 1 a <£ 00 50 50 82 47 48 85 62 •• * • 1 c fiO 5(1 hO 32 48 50 00 45 50 44 14 50 60 60 6J 46 57 50 70 -a 1 Is 60 66 60 32 48 42 60 28 28 i ttO 511 66 S6 48 hi to 46 iO 44 14 '-•4 83 5J 60 6J 60 46 57 1 64 60 32 44 40 , , •• s 01, IS 60 56 56 £2 48 42 60 m m ^8 28 •• 3 ^O u w a 1 50 66 60 28 45 60 3 •g Hi 56 60 30 46 40 m m ^ 70 70 bO 60 60 60 1 « U Si » 60 50 50 1 a 60 66 66 33 48 62 60 46 50 60 60 60 1 1 4 66 : *-* a o i 60 66 66 82 46 46 60 •d 9 is CO 66 62 m m m m m m 50 60 4 1 Wliiiit. lb 60 Kyc M] ■(^\if 11 5(i OatH 'H IJarlty 4H lUu'kw heat 4N (10 Thiioth v-hocd 4^ KIa\-f t*t(i hrt ilOlllpiiCCd lilUi'-'TftSS HOtid Apjili », dried I'carlioB, dtlud <'(\lirs« HUlt 22 22 "■ill firt Potato^"* CD 61 Corn meal Mineral coal :; A law 9,.593 ^2. Af|j;hanistan 258,530 23. Texas 247,356 24. Austria 240,381 25. Madagascar 232,315 26. Ecuador 218,984 27. France 209,428 28. Spain 195,607 29. California 188,981 30. Central America 178,o69 81. Sweden 170,634 32. Beloochistan 165,830 S3. German Empire 160,207 U. Abyssinia 158,392 35. Dakota 1.52,000 56. Japan 149,399 ignore Milen. 37. Montana 143,776 38. Prussia 135,806 39. Chili 132,624 40. Paraifuav 126,3.S2 41. New Mexico 121,201 42. (Jreat Britain 121 ,115 43. Norway 120,205 44. Arizona 113,916 4.-). Nevada 112,090 46. Italy 109,B37 47. Colorado 104,5(H1 48. Oregon 95,274 49. Id.-iho 90,932 M. Utah 88,056 .51. Wyoming 88,000 52. Minnesota '*3,631 53. Kansas 81,318 54. Transvaal Uep\iblic 77,964 55. Nebraska 75,99,'i 56. Washington 69,994 57. Indian Territory 68,991 68. Uruguay 66,716 .59. Missouri 65,3.50 60. Florida .50,268 61. Georgia 58,000 62. Michigan .56,451 63. Illinois 56,410 64. Iowa f)5,045 65. Wisconsin 63,924 66. Arkansas 62,198 67. Alabama 60,722 68. North Carolina 50,704 69. Orange Free State 48,049 70. Mississippi 47,1.56 71. New York 47,0(K) 72. Pennsylvania 46,000 Exclusive of Hudson's Bay Territory, Square MiUi. 73. Tunis 4,5,710 74. Tennessee 45,8110 75. Louisiana 41,348 70. Ohio 39,004 77. Virginia :18,35J - 78. I'oi-tuifal 37,077 79. Kentucky S-,m 80. Maine 3,5,000 81. South Carolina 34,000 82. Indiana 33,809 83. Bavaria 29,373 84. West Virginia 23,0(» 85. Servia 21,210 86. Greece 19,3ii;i 87. St, Domingo n.iiii 88. Switzerland 1.V-- 89. Dcnnuirk U,TM 90. Netherlands 12,©'" 91. Belgium 11,37:1 92. Maryland ll.V.'J 93. Vermont 10,21i 94. Hayti 10, JS 9,'.. Liberia 0,60: 96. New Hampshire 9,'i!ti 97. Fejee Islands Hfi&i 98. Massachusetts 7,801 99. Sandwich Islands 7,633 100. New Jersey 7,5"() 101. Wurtemburg 7,MJ 102 Baden 5,i«i 103. Saxony v, 104. Mecklenburg-Schwerin . . 6,1W 105. Connecticut 4,6"i 106. Papal States 4,S5; 107. Hesse-Darmstadt 2, 108. Oldenburg 2,46« /EUIA. MISCELLANEOUS TABLES. 815 '«« ■- 5 «0 &G t6 88 4U 62 00 46 f)« 00 50 60 00 bO 6f 30 48 60 04 65 eo r>6 82 4(J 46 00 60 52 m m m m m m m fiU fit! ;i4 4S |4h (iO 4s 56 50 50 00 00 22 22 5« [6 (li) 03 i(i/ifJ o/ i;iea»'U)-«, viz. : 2150 IJ nd multiply by 45. ed according to Size. Sntiare MiUi. . ih,-\(l 4,5,fll«l 41,34ii .39,!HH .■; ;«,;fr2 H7,«77 37,680 \ ■A;>,m S. ii'i'th Carolina; ff<^ iM.liana ;«•«'? '"'^•'^'-''^ ••■•■ isiw 21,210 lo.aa ,lfv2-i Tunis .. . . TenncsHee Louisiana Ohio Virginia . , I'ortujfal , Kentucky Mftinu West Virginia Sorvia Greece St, Domint'o. Switzerland A LISr OF MODERN ABBREVIATIONS USED IN WRITING AND PRINTING. Denmark "'ji^ Netherlands Y'f. Helgiun. j •^;, Maryland 'Mr; Vermont W-^': iiayti. ^l'^, Lil'cna '^ New Hampshire v,wi Kejee Islands »'"\"^ MaKsachusctts •j'^ Sandwich Islands ^^ New Jersey 'j^J?, Wurtemburg '-??; Baden ^'^ Saxony .•••■_>■■■' r''l»i MccklcnburK-Schwerin . . .'.w Connecticut J'?l, , Papal States '-"t I Hesse-Darmstadt A" . Oldenburg '•"'I \. or Ans. AiiHwer. De^. Degree. Johh. Jo.shua. A. A. S. Fellow of the A mer- Dept. Deputy. Judg. .luilgo.s. icnn Acadcinj'. Dent. Deuteronomy. Jun.or.lr. .Junior. .\. R. Jiachelor of Arts. Do. orDitt*). The same. K. King ; Knight. Acct. Acciiuutiint. Dr. Debtor ; Doctor. K. G Knight of the Garter. A. C. or n. C. Before Christ. E. East. Km. Kingdom. A. D. In the year of our Lord. Eccl. I'^culehiastoH. Kt. Knight. A. M. Master of Aits ; Be- j;d. Editor ; Edition. Lat. Latitude ; Latin. fore noon ; In thu yiur E. (i. For e.\:iuiple. Jjbs. Pounds. of the world. En;?. ICngland ; English. Ld. Lord ; l^ady. .Kt. Aged. Ep. Epistle. Ldp. Lordship. Al p. Archbishop. Eph. Epbe.^iau8 ; Ephraini. Lev. licvitiou.s. Aj-t. Agent. E.'ta. Esaias. Lieut. Lieutenant. Ali'y. Attorney. Esq. Eiipiire. J-L.D. Doctor of liaws. liait. Baronet. Etc. T'Jt cetera ; anil so forth. Lon. Longitude. Uhl. Barrel. Ex. lixauiple; Exodus. Loud. London. licnj. Benjamin. Exr. Executor. L. S. Place of the Seal. 15ro. Brother. Ez. Ezra. M. Marquis. l'>. V. Blessed Virgin. Fr. France ; Francis. Maj. Major. ( '. C. P. Court of Common Fahr. Fahrenheit. Mat. Matthew. PleaH. F. K. S. Fellow of the Koyal Matli. Mathematics. C.I! IS. Capitals Society. M. C. Member of ( Jongres i. Citpt. Captain. Gal. Galatian.s. M. D. Doctor of Medicine. Cash. Cashier. Uen. General ; Genesis. Messrs. Gentlemen ; Sirs. Cent, or C. A hundred. Gent. (Jentleman. M. P. Mend)er of Parliament Chap. Chapter. Geo. George. Mr. Master, or Mister. Chron. Chronicles. Gov. Governor. Mid. Midshipman. Cl.orClk. Clerk. G. P. O. General Post Office. Mrs. Mistress. Co. Company ; County. H.B.M. His or Her Britannic MS. Manusoiipt. Col. Collector ; Colonel ; Col- Majesty. MSS. Manuscripts. lossiano. Heb. Hebrews. N. North. Coll. College ; Colleague. Hhd. Hogshead. N. B. Take notice. Loui. Conimissioncr ; Comrao ■ Hist. History ; Historical. Neb. Nehemiah. dore. Hon Honourable. No. Number. Const. Constable. H. 11. House of Representa - N. S. New Style. Con. C'ontra ; on the Dtliei tives. Num. Numbers. hand. H. S. S. Fellow of the Histo Obj. Objection. Cor. Corinthians. rical Society. Obt. Obedient. Cor. Sec. Corresponding Sec Hund. Hundred. 0. S. Old Style. retary. Ibid. In the same place. P. Page. C. 0. D. Collect on Deli very I.E. '1 hat is {id at). Pp. Pages. Cr. Credit ; Creditor. C. S. Keeper of Seal. • Cts. Cents. Cur. Current ; this month. Cwt. A hundred weight. Cyc. ('yclopfedia. D. 1). Doctor of Divinity. Ban. Daniel. Dea. Deacon. Id. The same. Pari. I. H. S. Jesus the Saviour of Per. men. Inst. Instant. Isa. Isaiah. Jac. Jacob. Jas. James. Jer. Jeremiah Jna John. Parliament. By the (as per yard ; by the yard). Per cwt. By the hundred. Pet. Peter. Phil. Philip ; Philippians. Philom. A lover of learning. P. M. Post Master ; Afternoon. P. O. Poat Office. 816 THE HOME, FARM AND BUSINESS CYCLOPAEDIA. Pre*". Prenident. Rt. Hon. Right Honourable. Tim. Timothy. Prin. Principal, S. Shillin/ ; South. lilt. (Ultimo). TheLat.t. Prob. Problem S. A. South America. U. S. A. United SUtes Army Prof. Professor. Ham. Samuel. U. S. N. United States Navy Prov. Proverbs. Sch. Schooner. V. or Vide. See. P. S. Postcript. Sec. Secretary; Section. Viz. Namely. Pi>. Psalms. Sen. Senator ; Senior. Vols. Volumes. Pub Doc. Public Docmueut. Serg. Sergeant. Vs. (Versiu). Agaiu»t, Q. Queen ; Question. Servt. Servant. W. WcHt. Qr. Quarter. Ss. Namely. W. I. Went Indies. Q. M. Quarter Master. St. Saint ; Street. Wm. William. Rec'd. Ueceived. Supt. Superintendent. Wp. Worship. Regr. Register. Surg. Surgeou. Yd. Yard. Rep. Representative. Switz. Switzerland. Yr. Year. Rev. Reverend ; He-elation. Thess. Theusiilonians. ti. And. Rom. Romans. The. Thoma«. &c. .Vnd so forth. LENGTH OF THE PRmOIPAL RIVERS OF THE GLOBE. Name of River, Where Located . Source. Missouri iNorth America Rocky Mountains. . . . Mississippi .. ..'North America jl.ako Itaska Amazon jl'razil 'Andes Hoang-Ho .... China 'Koulkoun Mountains Murray Australasia jAuxtralian Alps Obi Siberia [Altaian Mountains . . Nile Kgyi)t, Nubia Blue Nile, Abyssinia Xang-tse-Kia .. China iThibet Lena Siberia 'Heights of Irkutsk. ... Niger Soudan Base of Mt. Loma. St Lawrence. . Canada 'River St. liouis Volga 1 Russia Lake iuVolhonsky Maykiang . . . . Si.^m iThibet Indus Hindostan iLittle Thibet Danube (Germany, Austria i Hungary, and Turkey , Mackenzie North America | River Athabasca. Brahmapootra .IThibet , Columbia North. America. Colorado : North America. Susquehana . . . INorth America. Black Forest , James. Potomac Hudson . . North America. North America. North America. Himalaya, Rocky Alountaius San f aba Lake Otsego Allegheny Mountains. . . . Gr. Black Bone Mount'n Adirondacks Kmpties. Gulf of Mexico Gulf of Mexico. . . . Atlantic Ocean Yellow Sea Encounter Hay. . . . Arctic Ocean Mediterranean (."hina Sea Arctic Ocean Gulf of Guinea G. of St. Jjawreuce CJaspian Sea . Chinese (Julf Arabian Sea Black Sea Arctic Ocean Bay of Bengal Pacific Ocean (lulf of California. Chesapeake Bay. . . Chesapeake Pay. . . Chesapeake Bay . . . Bay of New York. LenKtit milen. 4,.'50O 3,200 .'{,'200 a.ooo 3,000 2,800 2,7.tO 2,500 2,,J0() 2,;{oo l.PtiO ],!)0() 1,700 1.700 l,(i:«) 2,500 ],.soo 1,090 1,000 400 500 400 31; THE CHRISTIAN SECTS ARE DIVIDED ABOUT AS FOLLOWS COUNTRY. America Europe Afiia Africa Australia and Polynesia. Roman Catholic. 47,192,000 142,117,000 4,69.5,000 1,106,200 360,000 Protestant. 29,959,000 68,038,000 713,000 68.5,000 1,460,000 Eastern Church. 10,000 69,782,0' 8,486,000 3,200,000 C7 'riinothy. {Ultimo). The Last. I. A. United State-i A nuy i. N. United Staten Navy. rVido. See, Nftinuly. . Volumes. ( Versui). AgaiuBt. WcHt. I. West Indies. . William. , Worship. Yard. Year. And. .\nd so forth. ' THE GLOBE. Empties. Lengtli milen. Gulf of Mexico 4,50(> Gulf of Mexico. . . . ;{,-.'00 Atlantic Ocean .•J.'JOO Yellow Sea ;{,0(K) Encounter Hay 3,000 Arctic Ocean 2,800 Mediterranean 2,'m China Sea 2,500 Arctic Ocean 2,jOO Gulf of Guinea 2,;ioo G. of St. Lawrence l,Pli0 CJaspian Sea ],i»00 Chinese (iulf 1,700 Arabian Sea 1.700 Black Sea l,(;:;o Arctic Ocean 2,r)Oo Bay of Bengal L.'.OO Pacific Ocean 1,090 (iiilf of California. 1,000 Chesapeake Bay. . . ■(00 Chesapeake Pay. . . 500 Chesapeake Bay . . . Bay of New York. 400 3L'.J JT AS FOLLOWS : Protestant. 29,959,000 68,028,000 713,000 68.5,000 1,450,000 Eastern Church. 10,000 69,782,000 8,486,000 3,200,000 a