I wrote you hastily from New York yesterday. Returning from there in company with Judge Emerson, I accepted an invitation to dine with him, and then, on account of the storm to spend the night. An exceedingly agreeable visit. Excellent family: Mrs. Emerson, lovely character. He wishes to borrow the (“Man’s Power”) book, and I shall take the liberty of keeping it for him. He said he would show it to Putnam, & ask him to republish it. (I did not have the book with me.)

[338]

He had The Knickerbocker with Charley’s critique on Emerson with which he was much pleased, and is anxious to know the author. You had better read it.

We had a thunder storm—breaking up the S.E. storm—towards morning. Blustering wind today, water spouts on the bay. I came home by the new road on the ridge from the “Academy of Sacred Music” to the Moravian Church. Delightful prospect: fine woods through which the road passes. Mr. & Mrs. E. had heard of John’s engagement and warmly congratulated me. Mr. Emerson is not on friendly terms with Frank.

E. knew Captain Fox. Had had him as a witness and had formed a correct opinion of his character. Captain Fox died lately at Stamford, leaving a handsome amount of life insurance to his family.

Mr. Field yesterday gave me some useful information for John in regard to travelling in England, and invited me to bring John & Charley to his house—as also did Mr. Emerson—that he might help them. He says the pedestrianic dress does not debar him from any objects of interest or the attention of gentlemen, because it [is] very common now for men of the higher class to travel in that way. His brother, a large Birmingham manufacturer, would be [of] use and he would be glad in any way to assist him.

John thought I did wrong not to let you know how it tries my whole manliness to have such a trip as this brought so close to me. If I had thought I could do it with sufficient control of myself not to have excited your contempt for anything reasonable I might wish to say, I would have done so. But I confess the idea, if I give it the rein of contemplation at all, is so exciting that I can not control it with impartial reason, and so, for the present I try to forget it. For I exceedingly fear my dangerous liability to enthusiasm, and mean to guard against it with all my mind in future. If I did not suppose that you would look upon it with violence of prejudice against my unreasonably strong feeling, I should think you a great deal better able to judge about it than I. I should be content not to allow my mind any labor with it.

I have had a just barely controllable passion for just what John is thinking to undertake, beginning certainly as long ago as when I read Silliman’s Tour—17 years ago, and year after year—& never so hardly as this last winter, restrained only by filial gratitude from being accomplished by any desperate means.

This winter I made up my mind that I would make no engagements, but on the contrary arrange every thing that there might be as little in my business as possible to interfere with the plan to go to England in a year from next November—when I calculated that John would be in Europe, and either the farm would be sold, or the question of its ability to support me at least as a bachelor favorably settled.

The little sum that would be absolutely necessary to accomplish all I could hope for, Charley & I concluded we could manage to obtain on the [339]way. Charley, after maturely considering its practicality, made a compact with me: if nothing extraordinary—which he could not anticipate—occurred, to join me, though he did not like the idea of winter, while I dared not calculate on my ability to be gone in summer.

The idea of settling down for life without having seen England seemed to me cowardly and unreasonable—and I determined, God prospering me, not to do it, if I had to sell the farm and spend half my fortune. For I considered that with my whole fortune, and a family if I was ever blessed with it, I should have to do it at greater extravagance than by a very large pecuniary sacrifice I could before I married.

Talking over particulars put into our heads the idea of John’s going there instead of to the Prairies which he has been talking of all winter, and which was very distressing to me—for the reasons I gave you in Hartford. Then, Charley to go, too—and I saw at once he & they ought to—certainly the very best thing for both of them—and I gave my consent at once. But it does make me miserably lonely: and certainly, if it would not be very unpleasant to you, I would make any other necessary sacrifice.

My ambition to make this farm profitable—to carry out my ideas of husbandry and humanity successfully—is very great, and if I thought I must surrender it, it would be very hard for me. But considering the knowledge I should obtain which would particularly be available to my situation, more perhaps than to any man in America with the facilities for obtaining just what I want which some recent events have offered me—considering also certain arrangements I believe it is practicable for me to make, the necessary loss of time would not I conclude, with perhaps too strong a bias from my hope, materially affect the question of my success as a farmer. You can not say that is entirely preposterous I am sure, and I only desire you to consider it as candidly as I try to myself. Do not then estimate without a little calculation of money value, the loss to the farm by my absence from after the planting season, which by reason of having all my land plowed and manure carted on already, will be earlier than usual this year, until the time John wishes to return—before the fall of the leaf—corn cutting, tree planting, fall plowing and draining. The study of the English practice of draining done by the present system reduced ½ in expense, and greatly more valuable according to the Quarterly Review—(January, please read it) would pay any land owner, for what it would cost me.

Robert Cronin—or Mr. Field or Judge Emerson’s gardener, or any professional man of the sort, could be obtained easily enough on the island for at the most $10, who would be better able than I, a great deal, to do what after the 1st June might be desirable for my trees.

Harvest is the only important time at which I should be needed. You would expect to be here then, and you know how hard it would be to get along safely without me. I have found that my men are all ambitious to do [340]their best when I am absent. There are 24 acres in three fields, adjoining the barns, of hay—very much less than usual—but of wheat there is more than last year.

Please reckon up the money loss by absence, and compare it with the money value of my experience among English & Scotch farmers. The manner in which I have so far managed this farm certainly shows that I should not make a careless application of it.

The use I should be to John is worth some dollars. My experience and aptitude to roughing it, his diffidence and Charley’s awkwardness in obtaining information and services of men, would make my confidence and sympathy and experience with common and rough men of great assistance—to his comfort, his health, & his purse.

The possible vigor of constitution I should gain is worth some bushels of wheat. I had to take medicine every week or two this winter to check the bowel complaint I contracted last summer, and during the last three weeks it has reduced me a good deal. If we have such another season here as from the complaint now at Quarantine seems not unlikely, I think it will go hard with me. The sea voyage would probably set me up and the walk establish me. I only say it’s worth something.

I am ten times as able (by disposition) as John to rough it cheaply—more so than Charley. I believe that my necessary expense for the trip would not be over $140 to $160. I enjoy and use the advantages of travelling vastly more than John-always did. I remember what I see and hear when travelling very much better than he. I can manage better than he, and in money matters can manage better for him—better than he can for himself.

In case of his sickness, I have experience among hardships, and boldness and confidence that he has not to obtain assistance and comfort. I have tact and caution in nursing and understand his powers of endurance better than Charley or he himself. All might be, I say, worth a great deal to him.

The very strongest reason that urges me I can not urge at all. And another which cruelly strengthens my desire there’s no use in pressing upon you, because you have not made up your mind as I have that I must at any time go to England. It is that it will be so much more practicable for me to go now, cheaply, in the best company, with the best preparation to obtain useful, profitable information; with the vigor of youth and enthusiasm which would accomplish so much more than the comfortable caution of a little maturer age—so much more practicable for me to go this summer than any summer for any period that I can look forward to.

Next summer my trees may come in bearing, and after that I shall have to take the winter passage and see the farms froze up, the trees leafless, roads muddy, and the country gone to “town”. But even this I shall very [341]gladly encounter the first October I find myself the owner of one hundred dollars.

I can have now the advantage of letters from Norton to the Scotch farmers, from Field to the English, from Antisell to the Irish. They all have warm friends there, yet, among just the men I want to learn from. Parsons will introduce me to the gardens and nurseries. Prof. Johnston returns to Edinburgh. Judge Emerson and Stevens direct me to the lions of London, and Field opens the manufacturies.

I did not mean to argue the matter much, but I hope you won’t consider my opinions as if they were those of a mere child, nor my desires as senseless romantic impulses only. I acknowledge so much, that if you can give my position candid and earnest consideration, you are in a position to judge more correctly than I, and I will make myself contented.

I will put the moral and intellectual advantage which I should expect to receive from such a journey at such a time which such men (and between you and I, I look upon John & Charley as two of the very greatest and best men in the world—certainly the two very best travelling compagnons, and which I should otherwise consider to be obtained cheaply at any cost which left friends and health) as to be compensated to me in the everlasting justice of Providence by the discipline and strength which I acquire by a reasonable conformity to your judgement.

There now! Bang away!

We finished corn planting last year, middle of May—and this year have but half as much to plant.

I am sorry to have troubled you with so long a letter. You will be interested in that article in The Quarterly (Jan. 1850). The first part is historical. The modern practice commences on the 55th or 56th page. The Josiah Parkes is an old neighbor and school-mate of Mr. Field’s. 26 inches of rain falls in England per year, 30 inches in New York.

The use of drains in drought are not treated of in this article as they ought to have been. Norton shows their advantage—from Science and practice—very conclusively. They say our clay soils on the island suffer much more in time of drought than even the dry lands at the west end. The rental of farms is improved by draining immediately from 2£6 to 4.6.