care of crops, and of cattle, and of orchards, bees, and fowls; the
clearing and improving of the ground; the building of barns and
houses; the direct contact with the soil and with the elements; the
watching of the clouds and of the weather; the privacies with
nature, with bird, beast, and plant; and the close acquaintance with
the heart and virtue of the world. The farmer should be the true
naturalist; the book in which it is all written is open before him
night and day, and how sweet and wholesome all his knowledge is!

The predominant feature of farm life in New York, as in other
States, is always given by some local industry of one kind or
another. In many of the high, cold counties in the eastern centre
of the State, this ruling industry is hop-growing; in the western,
it is grain and fruit growing; in sections along the Hudson,
it is small-fruit growing, as berries, currants, grapes; in
other counties, it is milk and butter; in others, quarrying
flagging-stone. I recently visited a section of Ulster County,
where everybody seemed getting out hoop-poles and making hoops.
The only talk was of hoops, hoops! Every team that went by had a
load or was going for a load of hoops. The principal fuel was
hoop-shavings or discarded hoop-poles. No man had any money until
he sold his hoops. When a farmer went to town to get some grain,
or a pair of boots, or a dress for his wife, he took a load of
hoops. People stole hoops and poached for hoops, and bought, and
sold, and speculated in hoops. If there was a corner, it was in
hoops; big hoops, little hoops, hoops for kegs, and firkins, and
barrels, and hogsheads, and pipes; hickory hoops, birch hoops, ash
hoops, chestnut hoops, hoops enough to go around the world.
Another place it was shingle, shingle; everybody was shaving
hemlock shingle.