2: On The Situation, Feelings, and Pleasures, of An American Farmer
<< 1: Introduction || 3: What Is An American? >>
As you are the first enlightened European I have ever had the
pleasure of being acquainted with, you will not be surprised that I
should, according to your earnest desire and my promise, appear
anxious of preserving your friendship and correspondence. By your
accounts, I observe a material difference subsists between your
husbandry, modes, and customs, and ours; everything is local; could
we enjoy the advantages of the English farmer, we should be much
happier, indeed, but this wish, like many others, implies a
contradiction; and could the English farmer have some of those
privileges we possess, they would be the first of their class in the
world. Good and evil I see is to be found in all societies, and it
is in vain to seek for any spot where those ingredients are not
mixed. I therefore rest satisfied, and thank God that my lot is to
be an American farmer, instead of a Russian boor, or an Hungarian
peasant. I thank you kindly for the idea, however dreadful, which
you have given me of their lot and condition; your observations have
confirmed me in the justness of my ideas, and I am happier now than
I thought myself before. It is strange that misery, when viewed in
others, should become to us a sort of real good, though I am far
from rejoicing to hear that there are in the world men so thoroughly
wretched; they are no doubt as harmless, industrious, and willing to
work as we are. Hard is their fate to be thus condemned to a slavery
worse than that of our negroes. Yet when young I entertained some
thoughts of selling my farm. I thought it afforded but a dull
repetition of the same labours and pleasures. I thought the former
tedious and heavy, the latter few and insipid; but when I came to
consider myself as divested of my farm, I then found the world so
wide, and every place so full, that I began to fear lest there would
be no room for me. My farm, my house, my barn, presented to my
imagination objects from which I adduced quite new ideas; they were
more forcible than before. Why should not I find myself happy, said
I, where my father was before? He left me no good books it is true,
he gave me no other education than the art of reading and writing;
but he left me a good farm, and his experience; he left me free from
debts, and no kind of difficulties to struggle with.—I married, and
this perfectly reconciled me to my situation; my wife rendered my
house all at once cheerful and pleasing; it no longer appeared
gloomy and solitary as before; when I went to work in my fields I
worked with more alacrity and sprightliness; I felt that I did not
work for myself alone, and this encouraged me much. My wife would
often come with her knitting in her hand, and sit under the shady
trees, praising the straightness of my furrows, and the docility of
my horses; this swelled my heart and made everything light and
pleasant, and I regretted that I had not married before.
I felt myself happy in my new situation, and where is that station
which can confer a more substantial system of felicity than that of
an American farmer, possessing freedom of action, freedom of
thoughts, ruled by a mode of government which requires but little
from us? I owe nothing, but a pepper corn to my country, a small
tribute to my king, with loyalty and due respect; I know no other
landlord than the lord of all land, to whom I owe the most sincere
gratitude. My father left me three hundred and seventy-one acres of
land, forty-seven of which are good timothy meadow, an excellent
orchard, a good house, and a substantial barn. It is my duty to
think how happy I am that he lived to build and to pay for all these
improvements; what are the labours which I have to undergo, what are
my fatigues when compared to his, who had everything to do, from the
first tree he felled to the finishing of his house? Every year I
kill from 1500 to 2000 weight of pork, 1200 of beef, half a dozen of
good wethers in harvest: of fowls my wife has always a great stock:
what can I wish more? My negroes are tolerably faithful and healthy;
by a long series of industry and honest dealings, my father left
behind him the name of a good man; I have but to tread his paths to
be happy and a good man like him. I know enough of the law to
regulate my little concerns with propriety, nor do I dread its
power; these are the grand outlines of my situation, but as I can
feel much more than I am able to express, I hardly know how to
proceed.
When my first son was born, the whole train of my ideas were
suddenly altered; never was there a charm that acted so quickly and
powerfully; I ceased to ramble in imagination through the wide
world; my excursions since have not exceeded the bounds of my farm,
and all my principal pleasures are now centred within its scanty
limits: but at the same time there is not an operation belonging to
it in which I do not find some food for useful reflections. This is
the reason, I suppose, that when you was here, you used, in your
refined style, to denominate me the farmer of feelings; how rude
must those feelings be in him who daily holds the axe or the plough,
how much more refined on the contrary those of the European, whose
mind is improved by education, example, books, and by every acquired
advantage! Those feelings, however, I will delineate as well as I
can, agreeably to your earnest request.
When I contemplate my wife, by my fireside, while she either spins,
knits, darns, or suckles our child, I cannot describe the various
emotions of love, of gratitude, of conscious pride, which thrill in
my heart and often overflow in involuntary tears. I feel the
necessity, the sweet pleasure of acting my part, the part of an
husband and father, with an attention and propriety which may
entitle me to my good fortune. It is true these pleasing images
vanish with the smoke of my pipe, but though they disappear from my
mind, the impression they have made on my heart is indelible. When I
play with the infant, my warm imagination runs forward, and eagerly
anticipates his future temper and constitution. I would willingly
open the book of fate, and know in which page his destiny is
delineated; alas! where is the father who in those moments of
paternal ecstasy can delineate one half of the thoughts which dilate
his heart? I am sure I cannot; then again I fear for the health of
those who are become so dear to me, and in their sicknesses I
severely pay for the joys I experienced while they were well.
Whenever I go abroad it is always involuntary. I never return home
without feeling some pleasing emotion, which I often suppress as
useless and foolish. The instant I enter on my own land, the bright
idea of property, of exclusive right, of independence exalt my mind.
Precious soil, I say to myself, by what singular custom of law is it
that thou wast made to constitute the riches of the freeholder? What
should we American farmers be without the distinct possession of
that soil? It feeds, it clothes us, from it we draw even a great
exuberancy, our best meat, our richest drink, the very honey of our
bees comes from this. privileged spot. No wonder we should thus
cherish its possession, no wonder that so many Europeans who have
never been able to say that such portion of land was theirs, cross
the Atlantic to realise that happiness. This formerly rude soil has
been converted by my father into a pleasant farm, and in return it
has established all our rights; on it is founded our rank, our
freedom, our power as citizens, our importance as inhabitants of
such a district. These images I must confess I always behold with
pleasure, and extend them as far as my imagination can reach: for
this is what may be called the true and the only philosophy of an
American farmer.
Pray do not laugh in thus seeing an artless countryman tracing
himself through the simple modifications of his life; remember that
you have required it, therefore with candour, though with
diffidence, I endeavour to follow the thread of my feelings, but I
cannot tell you all. Often when I plough my low ground, I place my
little boy on a chair which screws to the beam of the plough—its
motion and that of the horses please him; he is perfectly happy and
begins to chat. As I lean over the handle, various are the thoughts
which crowd into my mind. I am now doing for him, I say, what my
father formerly did for me, may God enable him to live that he may
perform the same operations for the same purposes when I am worn out
and old! I relieve his mother of some trouble while I have him with
me, the odoriferous furrow exhilarates his spirits, and seems to do
the child a great deal of good, for he looks more blooming since I
have adopted that practice; can more pleasure, more dignity be added
to that primary occupation? The father thus ploughing with his
child, and to feed his family, is inferior only to the emperor of
China ploughing as an example to his kingdom. In the evening when I
return home through my low grounds, I am astonished at the myriads
of insects which I perceive dancing in the beams of the setting sun.
I was before scarcely acquainted with their existence, they are so
small that it is difficult to distinguish them; they are carefully
improving this short evening space, not daring to expose themselves
to the blaze of our meridian sun. I never see an egg brought on my
table but I feel penetrated with the wonderful change it would have
undergone but for my gluttony; it might have been a gentle useful
hen leading her chickens with a care and vigilance which speaks
shame to many women. A cock perhaps, arrayed with the most majestic
plumes, tender to its mate, bold, courageous, endowed with an
astonishing instinct, with thoughts, with memory, and every
distinguishing characteristic of the reason of man. I never see my
trees drop their leaves and their fruit in the autumn, and bud again
in the spring, without wonder; the sagacity of those animals which
have long been the tenants of my farm astonish me: some of them seem
to surpass even men in memory and sagacity. I could tell you
singular instances of that kind. What then is this instinct which we
so debase, and of which we are taught to entertain so diminutive an
idea? My bees, above any other tenants of my farm, attract my
attention and respect; I am astonished to see that nothing exists
but what has its enemy, one species pursue and live upon the other:
unfortunately our kingbirds are the destroyers of those industrious
insects; but on the other hand, these birds preserve our fields from
the depredation of crows which they pursue on the wing with great
vigilance and astonishing dexterity.
Thus divided by two interested motives, I have long resisted the
desire I had to kill them, until last year, when I thought they
increased too much, and my indulgence had been carried too far; it
was at the time of swarming when they all came and fixed themselves
on the neighbouring trees, from whence they catched those that
returned loaded from the fields. This made me resolve to kill as
many as I could, and I was just ready to fire, when a bunch of bees
as big as my fist, issued from one of the hives, rushed on one of
the birds, and probably stung him, for he instantly screamed, and
flew, not as before, in an irregular manner, but in a direct line.
He was followed by the same bold phalanx, at a considerable
distance, which unfortunately becoming too sure of victory, quitted
their military array and disbanded themselves. By this inconsiderate
step they lost all that aggregate of force which had made the bird
fly off. Perceiving their disorder he immediately returned and
snapped as many as he wanted; nay, he had even the impudence to
alight on the very twig from which the bees had drove him. I killed
him and immediately opened his craw, from which I took 171 bees; I
laid them all on a blanket in the sun, and to my great surprise 54
returned to life, licked themselves clean, and joyfully went back to
the hive; where they probably informed their companions of such an
adventure and escape, as I believe had never happened before to
American bees! I draw a great fund of pleasure from the quails which
inhabit my farm; they abundantly repay me, by their various notes
and peculiar tameness, for the inviolable hospitality I constantly
show them in the winter. Instead of perfidiously taking advantage of
their great and affecting distress, when nature offers nothing but a
barren universal bed of snow, when irresistible necessity forces
them to my barn doors, I permit them to feed unmolested; and it is
not the least agreeable spectacle which that dreary season presents,
when I see those beautiful birds, tamed by hunger, intermingling
with all my cattle and sheep, seeking in security for the poor
scanty grain which but for them would be useless and lost. Often in
the angles of the fences where the motion of the wind prevents the
snow from settling, I carry them both chaff and grain; the one to
feed them, the other to prevent their tender feet from freezing fast
to the earth as I have frequently observed them to do.
I do not know an instance in which the singular barbarity of man is
so strongly delineated, as in the catching and murthering those
harmless birds, at that cruel season of the year. Mr.—-, one of the
most famous and extraordinary farmers that has ever done honour to
the province of Connecticut, by his timely and humane assistance in
a hard winter, saved this species from being entirely destroyed.
They perished all over the country, none of their delightful
whistlings were heard the next spring, but upon this gentleman's
farm; and to his humanity we owe the continuation of their music.
When the severities of that season have dispirited all my cattle, no
farmer ever attends them with more pleasure than I do; it is one of
those duties which is sweetened with the most rational satisfaction.
I amuse myself in beholding their different tempers, actions, and
the various effects of their instinct now powerfully impelled by the
force of hunger. I trace their various inclinations, and the
different effects of their passions, which are exactly the same as
among men; the law is to us precisely what I am in my barn yard, a
bridle and check to prevent the strong and greedy from oppressing
the timid and weak. Conscious of superiority, they always strive to
encroach on their neighbours; unsatisfied with their portion, they
eagerly swallow it in order to have an opportunity of taking what is
given to others, except they are prevented. Some I chide, others,
unmindful of my admonitions, receive some blows. Could victuals thus
be given to men without the assistance of any language, I am sure
they would not behave better to one another, nor more
philosophically than my cattle do.
The same spirit prevails in the stable; but there I have to do with
more generous animals, there my well-known voice has immediate
influence, and soon restores peace and tranquillity. Thus by
superior knowledge I govern all my cattle as wise men are obliged to
govern fools and the ignorant. A variety of other thoughts crowd on
my mind at that peculiar instant, but they all vanish by the time I
return home. If in a cold night I swiftly travel in my sledge,
carried along at the rate of twelve miles an hour, many are the
reflections excited by surrounding circumstances. I ask myself what
sort of an agent is that which we call frost? Our minister compares
it to needles, the points of which enter our pores. What is become
of the heat of the summer; in what part of the world is it that the
N. W. keeps these grand magazines of nitre? when I see in the
morning a river over which I can travel, that in the evening before
was liquid, I am astonished indeed! What is become of those millions
of insects which played in our summer fields, and in our evening
meadows; they were so puny and so delicate, the period of their
existence was so short, that one cannot help wondering how they
could learn, in that short space, the sublime art to hide themselves
and their offspring in so perfect a manner as to baffle the rigour
of the season, and preserve that precious embryo of life, that small
portion of ethereal heat, which if once destroyed would destroy the
species! Whence that irresistible propensity to sleep so common in
all those who are severely attacked by the frost. Dreary as this
season appears, yet it has like all others its miracles, it presents
to man a variety of problems which he can never resolve; among the
rest, we have here a set of small birds which never appear until the
snow falls; contrary to all others, they dwell and appear to delight
in that element.
It is my bees, however, which afford me the most pleasing and
extensive themes; let me look at them when I will, their government,
their industry, their quarrels, their passions, always present me
with something new; for which reason, when weary with labour, my
common place of rest is under my locust-tree, close by my bee-house.
By their movements I can predict the weather, and can tell the day
of their swarming; but the most difficult point is, when on the
wing, to know whether they want to go to the woods or not. If they
have previously pitched in some hollow trees, it is not the
allurements of salt and water, of fennel, hickory leaves, etc., nor
the finest box, that can induce them to stay; they will prefer those
rude, rough habitations to the best polished mahogany hive. When
that is the case with mine, I seldom thwart their inclinations; it
is in freedom that they work: were I to confine them, they would
dwindle away and quit their labour. In such excursions we only part
for a while; I am generally sure to find them again the following
fall. This elopement of theirs only adds to my recreations; I know
how to deceive even their superlative instinct; nor do I fear losing
them, though eighteen miles from my house, and lodged in the most
lofty trees, in the most impervious of our forests. I once took you
along with me in one of these rambles, and yet you insist on my
repeating the detail of our operations: it brings back into my mind
many of the useful and entertaining reflections with which you so
happily beguiled our tedious hours.
After I have done sowing, by way of recreation, I prepare for a
week's jaunt in the woods, not to hunt either the deer or the bears,
as my neighbours do, but to catch the more harmless bees. I cannot
boast that this chase is so noble, or so famous among men, but I
find it less fatiguing, and full as profitable; and the last
consideration is the only one that moves me. I take with me my dog,
as a companion, for he is useless as to this game; my gun, for no
man you know ought to enter the woods without one; my blanket, some
provisions, some wax, vermilion, honey, and a small pocket compass.
With these implements I proceed to such woods as are at a
considerable distance from any settlements. I carefully examine
whether they abound with large trees, if so, I make a small fire on
some flat stones, in a convenient place; on the fire I put some wax;
close by this fire, on another stone, I drop honey in distinct
drops, which I surround with small quantities of vermilion, laid on
the stone; and then I retire carefully to watch whether any bees
appear. If there are any in that neighbourhood, I rest assured that
the smell of the burnt wax will unavoidably attract them; they will
soon find out the honey, for they are fond of preying on that which
is not their own; and in their approach they will necessarily tinge
themselves with some particles of vermilion, which will adhere long
to their bodies. I next fix my compass, to find out their course,
which they keep invariably straight, when they are returning home
loaded. By the assistance of my watch, I observe how long those are
returning which are marked with vermilion. Thus possessed of the
course, and, in some measure, of the distance, which I can easily
guess at, I follow the first, and seldom fail of coming to the tree
where those republics are lodged. I then mark it; and thus, with
patience, I have found out sometimes eleven swarms in a season; and
it is inconceivable what a quantity of honey these trees will
sometimes afford. It entirely depends on the size of the hollow, as
the bees never rest nor swarm till it is all replenished; for like
men, it is only the want of room that induces them to quit the
maternal hive. Next I proceed to some of the nearest settlements,
where I procure proper assistance to cut down the trees, get all my
prey secured, and then return home with my prize. The first bees I
ever procured were thus found in the woods, by mere accident; for at
that time I had no kind of skill in this method of tracing them. The
body of the tree being perfectly sound, they had lodged themselves
in the hollow of one of its principal limbs, which I carefully sawed
off and with a good deal of labour and industry brought it home,
where I fixed it up again in the same position in which I found it
growing. This was in April; I had five swarms that year, and they
have been ever since very prosperous. This business generally takes
up a week of my time every fall, and to me it is a week of solitary
ease and relaxation.
The seed is by that time committed to the ground; there is nothing
very material to do at home, and this additional quantity of honey
enables me to be more generous to my home bees, and my wife to make
a due quantity of mead. The reason, Sir, that you found mine better
than that of others is, that she puts two gallons of brandy in each
barrel, which ripens it, and takes off that sweet, luscious taste,
which it is apt to retain a long time. If we find anywhere in the
woods (no matter on whose land) what is called a bee-tree, we must
mark it; in the fall of the year when we propose to cut it down, our
duty is to inform the proprietor of the land, who is entitled to
half the contents; if this is not complied with we are exposed to an
action of trespass, as well as he who should go and cut down a bee-
tree which he had neither found out nor marked.
We have twice a year the pleasure of catching pigeons, whose numbers
are sometimes so astonishing as to obscure the sun in their flight.
Where is it that they hatch? for such multitudes must require an
immense quantity of food. I fancy they breed toward the plains of
Ohio, and those about lake Michigan, which abound in wild oats;
though I have never killed any that had that grain in their craws.
In one of them, last year, I found some undigested rice. Now the
nearest rice fields from where I live must be at least 560 miles;
and either their digestion must be suspended while they are flying,
or else they must fly with the celerity of the wind. We catch them
with a net extended on the ground, to which they are allured by what
we call TAME WILD PIGEONS, made blind, and fastened to a long
string; his short flights, and his repeated calls, never fail to
bring them down. The greatest number I ever catched was fourteen
dozen, though much larger quantities have often been trapped. I have
frequently seen them at the market so cheap, that for a penny you
might have as many as you could carry away; and yet from the extreme
cheapness you must not conclude, that they are but an ordinary food;
on the contrary, I think they are excellent. Every farmer has a tame
wild pigeon in a cage at his door all the year round, in order to be
ready whenever the season comes for catching them.
The pleasure I receive from the warblings of the birds in the
spring, is superior to my poor description, as the continual
succession of their tuneful notes is for ever new to me. I generally
rise from bed about that indistinct interval, which, properly
speaking, is neither night or day; for this is the moment of the
most universal vocal choir. Who can listen unmoved to the sweet love
tales of our robins, told from tree to tree? or to the shrill cat
birds? The sublime accents of the thrush from on high always retard
my steps that I may listen to the delicious music. The variegated
appearances of the dew drops, as they hang to the different objects,
must present even to a clownish imagination, the most voluptuous
ideas. The astonishing art which all birds display in the
construction of their nests, ill provided as we may suppose them
with proper tools, their neatness, their convenience, always make me
ashamed of the slovenliness of our houses; their love to their dame,
their incessant careful attention, and the peculiar songs they
address to her while she tediously incubates their eggs, remind me
of my duty could I ever forget it. Their affection to their helpless
little ones, is a lively precept; and in short, the whole economy of
what we proudly call the brute creation, is admirable in every
circumstance; and vain man, though adorned with the additional gift
of reason, might learn from the perfection of instinct, how to
regulate the follies, and how to temper the errors which this second
gift often makes him commit. This is a subject, on which I have
often bestowed the most serious thoughts; I have often blushed
within myself, and been greatly astonished, when I have compared the
unerring path they all follow, all just, all proper, all wise, up to
the necessary degree of perfection, with the coarse, the imperfect
systems of men, not merely as governors and kings, but as masters,
as husbands, as fathers, as citizens. But this is a sanctuary in
which an ignorant farmer must not presume to enter.
If ever man was permitted to receive and enjoy some blessings that
might alleviate the many sorrows to which he is exposed, it is
certainly in the country, when he attentively considers those
ravishing scenes with which he is everywhere surrounded. This is the
only time of the year in which I am avaricious of every moment, I
therefore lose none that can add to this simple and inoffensive
happiness. I roam early throughout all my fields; not the least
operation do I perform, which is not accompanied with the most
pleasing observations; were I to extend them as far as I have
carried them, I should become tedious; you would think me guilty of
affectation, and I should perhaps represent many things as
pleasurable from which you might not perhaps receive the least
agreeable emotions. But, believe me, what I write is all true and
real.
Some time ago, as I sat smoking a contemplative pipe in my piazza, I
saw with amazement a remarkable instance of selfishness displayed in
a very small bird, which I had hitherto respected for its
inoffensiveness. Three nests were placed almost contiguous to each
other in my piazza: that of a swallow was affixed in the corner next
to the house, that of a phebe in the other, a wren possessed a
little box which I had made on purpose, and hung between. Be not
surprised at their tameness, all my family had long been taught to
respect them as well as myself. The wren had shown before signs of
dislike to the box which I had given it, but I knew not on what
account; at last it resolved, small as it was, to drive the swallow
from its own habitation, and to my very great surprise it succeeded.
Impudence often gets the better of modesty, and this exploit was no
sooner performed, than it removed every material to its own box with
the most admirable dexterity; the signs of triumph appeared very
visible, it fluttered its wings with uncommon velocity, an universal
joy was perceivable in all its movements. Where did this little bird
learn that spirit of injustice? It was not endowed with what we term
reason! Here then is a proof that both those gifts border very near
on one another; for we see the perfection of the one mixing with the
errors of the other! The peaceable swallow, like the passive Quaker,
meekly sat at a small distance and never offered the least
resistance; but no sooner was the plunder carried away, than the
injured bird went to work with unabated ardour, and in a few days
the depredations were repaired. To prevent however a repetition of
the same violence, I removed the wren's box to another part of the
house.
In the middle of my new parlour I have, you may remember, a curious
republic of industrious hornets; their nest hangs to the ceiling, by
the same twig on which it was so admirably built and contrived in
the woods. Its removal did not displease them, for they find in my
house plenty of food; and I have left a hole open in one of the
panes of the window, which answers all their purposes. By this kind
usage they are become quite harmless; they live on the flies, which
are very troublesome to us throughout the summer; they are
constantly busy in catching them, even on the eyelids of my
children. It is surprising how quickly they smear them with a sort
of glue, lest they might escape, and when thus prepared, they carry
them to their nests, as food for their young ones. These globular
nests are most ingeniously divided into many stories, all provided
with cells, and proper communications. The materials with which this
fabric is built, they procure from the cottony furze, with which our
oak rails are covered; this substance tempered with glue, produces a
sort of pasteboard, which is very strong, and resists all the
inclemencies of the weather. By their assistance, I am but little
troubled with flies. All my family are so accustomed to their strong
buzzing, that no one takes any notice of them; and though they are
fierce and vindictive, yet kindness and hospitality has made them
useful and harmless.
We have a great variety of wasps; most of them build their nests in
mud, which they fix against the shingles of our roofs, as nigh the
pitch as they can. These aggregates represent nothing, at first
view, but coarse and irregular lumps, but if you break them, you
will observe, that the inside of them contains a great number of
oblong cells, in which they deposit their eggs, and in which they
bury themselves in the fall of the year. Thus immured they securely
pass through the severity of that season, and on the return of the
sun are enabled to perforate their cells, and to open themselves a
passage from these recesses into the sunshine. The yellow wasps,
which build under ground, in our meadows, are much more to be
dreaded, for when the mower unwittingly passes his scythe over their
holes they immediately sally forth with a fury and velocity superior
even to the strength of man. They make the boldest fly, and the only
remedy is to lie down and cover our heads with hay, for it is only
at the head they aim their blows; nor is there any possibility of
finishing that part of the work until, by means of fire and
brimstone, they are all silenced. But though I have been obliged to
execute this dreadful sentence in my own defence, I have often
thought it a great pity, for the sake of a little hay, to lay waste
so ingenious a subterranean town, furnished with every conveniency,
and built with a most surprising mechanism.
I never should have done were I to recount the many objects which
involuntarily strike my imagination in the midst of my work, and
spontaneously afford me the most pleasing relief. These appear
insignificant trifles to a person who has travelled through Europe
and America, and is acquainted with books and with many sciences;
but such simple objects of contemplation suffice me, who have no
time to bestow on more extensive observations. Happily these require
no study, they are obvious, they gild the moments I dedicate to
them, and enliven the severe labours which I perform. At home my
happiness springs from very different objects; the gradual unfolding
of my children's reason, the study of their dawning tempers attract
all my paternal attention. I have to contrive little punishments for
their little faults, small encouragements for their good actions,
and a variety of other expedients dictated by various occasions. But
these are themes unworthy your perusal, and which ought not to be
carried beyond the walls of my house, being domestic mysteries
adapted only to the locality of the small sanctuary wherein my
family resides. Sometimes I delight in inventing and executing
machines, which simplify my wife's labour. I have been tolerably
successful that way; and these, Sir, are the narrow circles within
which I constantly revolve, and what can I wish for beyond them? I
bless God for all the good he has given me; I envy no man's
prosperity, and with no other portion of happiness than that I may
live to teach the same philosophy to my children; and give each of
them a farm, show them how to cultivate it, and be like their
father, good substantial independent American farmers—an
appellation which will be the most fortunate one a man of my class
can possess, so long as our civil government continues to shed
blessings on our husbandry. Adieu.
<< 1: Introduction || 3: What Is An American? >>
