Charles Bennett - "The Frog Who Would A Wooing Go"

Arthur J. Rees - "The Shrieking Pit"

Herbert Carter - "The Boy Scouts' First Camp Fire"

Henry Mann - "The Land We Live In"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Rural Architecture

L >> Lewis Falley Allen >> Rural Architecture




If the planter feels disposed to consult authorities, as to the best
disposition of his trees, works on Landscape Gardening may be studied;
but these can give only general hints, and the only true course is to
strive to make his grounds look as much like nature herself as
possible--for nature seldom makes mistakes in her designs. To conclude a
course of remark, which the plain farmer, cultivating his land for its
yearly profit alone, may consider as foreign to the subject of our work,
we would not recommend any one to plant trees who is not willing to
spend the necessary time to nurse and tend them afterward, till they are
out of harm's way, and well established in a vigorous growth. All this
must be taken into the account, for it is better to have even but a few
trees, and those what trees should be, than a whole forest of stinted
things, writhing and pining through a course of sickly existence.

A chapter might also be written upon the proper mode of taking up and
planting trees, but as this would lead us to a subject more directly
belonging to another department, the proper authorities on that head
must be consulted.


FRUIT GARDEN--ORCHARDS.

As the fruit garden and orchards are usually near appendages to the
dwelling and out-buildings, a few remarks as to their locality and
distribution may be appropriate. The first should _always_ be near the
house, both for convenience in gathering its fruits, and for its due
protection from the encroachments of those not entitled to its
treasures. It should, if possible, adjoin the kitchen garden, for
convenience of access; as fruit is, or should be, an important item in
the daily consumption of every family where it can be grown and
afforded. A sheltered spot, if to be had, should be devoted to this
object; or if not, its margin, on the exposed side, should be set with
the hardiest trees to which it is appropriated--as the apple. The fruit
garden, proper, may also contain the smaller fruits, as they are termed,
as the currant, gooseberry, raspberry, and whatever other shrub-fruits
are grown; while the quince, the peach, the apricot, nectarine, plum,
cherry, pear, and apple may, in the order they are named, stand in
succession behind them, the taller and more hardy growth of each
successive variety rising higher, and protecting its less hardy and
aspiring neighbor. The soil for all these varieties of tree is supposed
to be congenial, and our remarks will only be directed to their proper
distribution.

The aspect for the fruit garden should, if possible, front the south,
south-east, or south-west, in a northerly climate. In the Middle and
Southern States the exposure is of less consequence. Currants,
gooseberries, raspberries, &c., should, for their most productive
bearing, and the highest quality of their fruits, be set at least four
feet apart, in the rows, and the rows six feet distant from each other,
that there may be abundant room to cultivate them with the plow, and
kept clean of weeds and grass. The quince, peach, apricot, nectarine,
and plum should be 16 feet apart each way. The pear, if on quince stock,
may be 12 feet apart, and if on its own stock, 20 to 24 feet; while the
apple should always be 30 to 36 feet apart, to let in the requisite
degree of sun and air to ripen as well as give growth, color, and flavor
to its fruit. The tendency of almost all planters of fruit trees is to
set them too close, and many otherwise fine fruit gardens are utterly
ruined by the compact manner in which they are planted. Trees are great
consumers of the atmosphere; every leaf is a lung, inhaling and
respiring the gases, and if sufficient breathing room be not allowed
them, the tree sickens, and pines for the want of it; therefore, every
fruit tree, and fruit-bearing shrub should be so placed that the summer
sun can shine on every part of its surface at some hour of the day. In
such position, the fruit will reach its maximum of flavor, size, and
perfection.

The ground, too, should be rich; and, to have the greatest benefit of
the soil, no crops should be grown among the trees, after they have
arrived at their full maturity of bearing. Thus planted, and nursed,
with good selections of varieties, both the fruit garden and the orchard
become one of the most ornamental, as well as most profitable portions
of the farm.

In point of position, as affecting the appearance of the homestead, the
fruit garden should stand on the _weather-side_ of the dwelling, so as,
although protected, in its several varieties, by itself, when not
altogether sheltered by some superior natural barrier, it should appear
to shelter both the dwelling and kitchen gardens, which adjoin them.

As this is a subject intended to be but incidentally touched in these
pages, and only then as immediately connected in its general character
with the dwelling house and its attachments, we refrain from going into
any particulars of detail concerning it. It is also a subject to which
we are strongly attached, and gladly would we have a set chat with our
readers upon it; but as the discussion for so broad a field as we should
have to survey, would be in many points arbitrary, and unfitting to
local information as to varieties, and particular cultivation, we refer
the reader, with great pleasure, to the several treatises of Downing,
and Thomas, and Barry, on this interesting topic, with which the public
are fortunately in possession; observing, only, that there is no one
item of rural economy to which our attention can be given, which yields
more of luxury, health, and true enjoyment, both to the body and the
mind, than the cultivation of good fruits.


HOW TO LAY OUT A KITCHEN GARDEN.

The kitchen garden yields more necessaries and comforts to the family,
than any other piece of ground on the premises. It is, of consequence,
necessary that it be so located and planned as to be ready of access,
and yield the greatest possible quantity of products for the labor
bestowed upon it; and as locality and plan have much to do with the
labor bestowed upon it and the productions it may yield, both these
subjects should be considered.

As to locality, the kitchen garden should lie in the _warmest_ and _most
sheltered_ spot which may be convenient to the _kitchen_ of the house.
It should, in connection with that, be convenient of access to the
dung-yards of the stables. The size may be such as your necessities or
your convenience may demand. The shape, either a parallelogram or a
square; for it will be recollected, that this is a place allotted, not
for a _show_ or _pleasure_ ground, but for _profit_. If the garden be
large, this shape will better allow the use of the plow to turn up the
soil, which, in a large garden, is a much cheaper, and, when properly
done, a better mode than to spade it; and if small, and it be worked
with the spade, _right_ lines are easier made with the spade than curved
ones. One or more walks, at least eight feet wide, should be made,
leading from a broad gate, or bars, through which a cart and horse, or
oxen, may enter, to draw in manure, or carry out the vegetables; and if
such walk, or walks, do not extend around the garden, which, if in a
large one, they should do, a sufficient area should be thrown out at the
farther extremity, to turn the cart upon. If the soil be free, and
stony, the stones should be taken out _clean_, when large--and if small,
down to the size of a hen's egg--and the surface made as level as
possible, for a loose soil will need no draining. If the soil be a clay,
or clayey loam, it should be underdrained two and a half feet, _to be
perfect_, and the draining so planned as to lead off to a lower spot
outside. This draining _warms_ the soil, opens it for filtration, and
makes it friable. Then, properly fenced, thoroughly manured, and plowed
deep, and left rough--no matter how rough--in the fall of the year, and
as late before the setting in of winter as you dare risk it, that part
of the preparation is accomplished.

The _permanent_ or wide walks of the garden, after being laid out and
graded, should never be plowed nor disturbed, except by the hoe and
rake, to keep down the weeds and grass; yet, if a close, and well-shorn
grass turf be kept upon them, it is perhaps the cheapest and most
cleanly way of keeping the walks. They need only cutting off close with
the hand-hook, in summer.

We have known a great many people, after laying out a kitchen garden,
and preparing it for use, fill it up with fruit trees, supposing that
vegetables will grow quite as well with them as without. This is a wide
mistake. _No tree larger than a currant or gooseberry bush should ever
stand in a vegetable garden._ These fruits being partially used in the
cooking department, as much in the way of vegetables, as of fruits, and
small in size, may be permitted; and they, contrary to the usual
practice, should always stand in _open_ ground, where they can have all
the benefits of the sun and rain to ripen the fruit to perfection, as
well as to receive the cultivation they need, instead of being placed
under fences around the sides of the garden, where they are too
frequently neglected, and become the resort of vermin, or make prolific
harbors for weeds.

Along the main walks, or alleys, the borders for perennial plants, as
well as the currant and gooseberry bushes, should be made--for the plow
should run parallel to, and not at right angles with them. Here may
stand the rhubarbs, the sea kales, the various herbs, or even the
asparagus beds, if a particular quarter be not set apart for them; and,
if it be important, a portion of these main borders may be appropriated
to the more common flowers and small shrubbery, if desired to cultivate
them in a plain way; but not a peach, apricot, or any other larger tree
than a currant or raspberry, should come within it. They not only shade
the small plants, but suck up and rob them of their food and moisture,
and keep off the sun, and prevent the circulation of air--than which
nothing needs all these more than garden vegetables, to have them in
high perfection. If it be necessary, by means of a cold exposure on the
one side, to have a close plantation of shrubbery to screen the garden,
let it be _outside_ the fence, rather than within it; but if within, let
there be a _broad_ walk between such shrubbery and the garden beds, as
their roots will extend under the vegetables, and rob them of their
food.

A walk, alley, or cartway, on the sides of the garden, is always better
_next to the fence_, than to fill that space with anything else, as it
is usually shaded for a portion of the day, and may be better afforded
for such _waste_ purposes than the open, sunny ground within.

It will be observed that _market gardeners_, men who always strive to
make the most profit from their land and labor, and obtain the _best_
vegetables, cultivate them in open fields. Not a tree, nor even a bush
is permitted to stand near the growing crop, if they can prevent it; and
where one is not stinted in the area of his domain, their example should
be followed.

A word upon _plowing_ gardens. Clays, or clayey loams, should always be
manured and plowed in the fall, just before the setting in of the winter
frosts. A world of pounding and hammering of lumps, to make them fine,
in spring, is saved by fall plowing, besides incorporating the manure
more thoroughly with the soil, as well as freezing out and destroying
the eggs of worms and insects which infest it. Thrown up deeply and
roughly with the plow or spade, the frosts act mechanically upon the
soil, and slack and pulverise it so thoroughly that a heavy raking in
early spring, is all that becomes necessary to put it in the finest
condition for seeds, and make it perhaps the very best and most
productive of all garden soils whatever. A light sandy loam is better to
lie compact in winter, and manured and turned up in early spring. Its
friable nature leaves it always open and light, and at all times in the
absence of frost, accessible to the spade or the hoe. On these accounts,
it is usually the most desirable and convenient soil for the kitchen
garden, and on the whole, generally preferred where either kind may be a
matter simply of choice.


FLOWERS.

Start not, gentle reader! We are not about to inflict upon you a
dissertation on Pelargoniums, Calla-Ethiopias, Japonicas, and such like
unmentionable terms, that bring to your mind the green-house, and
forcing-house, and all the train of expense and vexation attending them;
but we desire to have a short familiar conversation about what is all
around you, or if not around you, should be, and kept there, with very
little pains or labor on your part. Still, if you dislike the subject,
just hand this part of our book over to your excellent wife, or
daughters, or sisters, as the case may be, and we will talk to them
about this matter.

Flowers have their objects, and were made for our use and pleasure;
otherwise, God would never have strewed them, as he has, so bountifully
along our paths, and filled the world with their fragrance and beauty.
Like all else beautiful, which He made, and pronounced "good," flowers
have been objects of admiration and love since man's creation; and their
cultivation has ever been a type of civilization and refinement among
all people who have left written records behind them. Flowers equally
become the cottage and the palace, in their decoration. The humblest
cottager, and the mightiest monarch, have equally admired their beauty
and their odor; and the whole train of mortals between, have devoted a
portion of their time and thoughts to the development of their peculiar
properties.

But let that pass. Plain country people as we are, there are enough of
sufficient variety all around us, to engage our attention, and give us
all that we desire to embellish our homes, and engage the time which we
have to devote to them. Among the wild flowers, in the mountains and
hills of the farthest North, on the margin of their hidden brooks, where

"Floats the scarce-rooted watercress;"

and on their barren sides, the tiny violet and the laurel bloom, each in
their season, with unwonted beauty; and, sloping down on to the plains
beneath, blush out in all their summer garniture, the wild rose and the
honeysuckle. On, through the Middle States, the lesser flowers of early
spring throw out a thousand brilliant dyes, and are surrounded by a host
of summer plants, vieing with each other in the exuberance of their
tints. On the Alleghanies, through all their vast range, grow up the
magnificent dogwood, kalmia, and rhododendron, spangling mile upon
mile of their huge sides and tops with white, and covering crags and
precipices of untold space with their blushing splendor. Further west,
on the prairies, and oak openings, and in the deep woods, too, of the
great lakes, and of the Mississippi valley, with the earliest grass,
shoot up, all over the land, a succession of flowers, which in variety
and profusion of shape, and color, and odor, outvie all the lilies of
the gardens of Solomon; and so they continue till the autumnal frosts
cut down both grass and flower alike. Further south, along the piney
coast, back through the hills and over the vast reach of cotton and
sugar lands, another class of flowers burst out from their natural
coverts in equal glory; and the magnolia, and the tulip-tree, and the
wild orange throw a perfume along the air, like the odors of Palestine.
In the deep lagoons of the southern rivers, too, float immense
water-lilies, laying their great broad leaves, and expanded white and
yellow flowers, upon the surface, which the waters of the Nile in the
days of Cleopatra never equaled. And these are nature's wild productions
only.

Flowers being cultivated, not for profit, but for show and amusement,
need not intrude upon the time which is required to the more important
labors of the farm. A little time, given at such hours when it can be
best spared, will set all the little flower-beds in order, and keep the
required shrubbery of the place in trim--and should not be denied in any
family who enjoy a taste for them. Even the simplest of their kind, when
carefully disposed, produce a fine effect; and the hardy bulbous, and
tuberous-rooted plants require but slight aid in producing the highest
perfection of their bloom; while the fibrous-rooted perennials, and the
flowering shrubs, bloom on from year to year, almost uncared for and
untouched.

The annuals require the most attention. Their seeds must be planted and
gathered every year; they must be weeded and nursed with more care than
the others; yet they richly repay all this trouble in their fresh bloom
when the others are gone, and will carry their rich flowers far into the
frosts of autumn, when their hardier companions have composed themselves
for a winter's rest.

The position of the flower-bed, or borders, may be various. As a matter
of taste, however, they should be near the house, and in view of the
windows of the most frequented rooms. They thus give more enjoyment in
their sight, than when but occasionally seen in special visits; and such
spots can usually be set apart for them. If not in the way of more
important things, they should always be thus placed, where they are ever
objects of interest and attraction.

The ground which flowering plants occupy should be devoted to them
alone, and the soil be made deep and rich. They should not be huddled
up, nor crowded, but stand well apart, and have plenty of breathing-room
for their branches and leaves, and space for the spread of their roots.
They are consumers of the fertilizing gases, and require, equally with
other plants, their due supply of manures--which also adds to the
brilliance and size of their bloom, as well as to the growth of their
stems. Their roots should be protected in winter by coarse litter thrown
over them, particularly the earlier flowering plants, as it gives them
an early and rapid start in the spring.

In variety, we need scarcely recommend what may be most desirable. The
crocus, and snowdrop are among (if not quite) the earliest in bloom; and
to these follow the hyacinth, and daffodil, the jonquil, and many-varied
family of Narcissus, the low-headed hearts-ease, or pansy; with them,
too, comes the flowering-almond, the lilac, and another or two flowering
shrubs. Then follow the tulips, in all their gorgeous and splendid
variety of single, double, and fringed. To these follow the great
peonies, in their full, dashing colors of crimson, white and pink, and
the tree-like snow-ball, or guelder-rose. By the side of these hangs out
the monthly-trumpet-honeysuckle, gracing the columns of your veranda,
porch, or window, and the large Siberian honeysuckle, with its white and
pink flowers; and along with them, the various Iris family, or
fleur-de-lis, reminding one of France and the Bourbons, the Prussian
lilac, and the early phloxes. Then blush out, in all their endless
variety of shade and tint, from the purest white to the deepest purple,
the whole vast family of roses; and in stature, from the humblest twig
that leans its frail stem upon the ground, up to the hardy climber,
whose delicious clusters hang over your chamber window; and a month of
fragrance and beauty of these completes the succession of bulbs, and
tubers, and perennial plants and shrubs--scores of which have not been
noticed.

Now commence the annuals, which may carry you a month further into the
season, when the flaunting dahlia of every hue, and budding from its
plant of every size, from the height of little Tommy, who is just
toddling out with his mother to watch the first opening flower, up to
the top of his father's hat, as he stands quite six feet, to hold the
little fellow up to try to smell of another, which, like all the rest,
has no sign of odor. Then come, after a long retinue of different
things--among which we always count the morning-glory, or convolvulus,
running up the kitchen windows,--the great sun-flower, which throws his
broad disk high over the garden fence, always cheerful, and always
glowing--the brilliant tribe of asters, rich, varied, and beautiful,
running far into the autumnal frosts; and, to close our floral season,
the chrysanthemum, which, well cared-for, blooms out in the open air,
and, carefully taken up and boxed, will stay with us, in the house, till
Christmas. Thus ends the blooming year. Now, if you would enjoy a
pleasure perfectly pure, which has no alloy, save an occasional
disappointment by casualty, and make home interesting beyond all other
places, learn first to love, then to get, and next to cultivate flowers.




FARM COTTAGES.


Altogether too little attention has been paid in our country to these
most useful appendages to the farm, both in their construction and
appearance. Nothing adds more to the feeling of comfort, convenience,
and _home_ expression in the farm, than the snug-built laborers' cottage
upon it. The cottage also gives the farm an air of respectability and
dignity. The laborer should, if not so sumptuously, be as comfortably
housed and sheltered as his employer. This is quite as much to the
interest of such employer as it is beneficial to the health and
happiness of the laborer. Building is so cheap in America, that the
difference in cost between a snugly-finished cottage, and a rickety,
open tenement, is hardly to be taken into consideration, as compared
with the higher health, and increased enjoyment of the laborer and his
family; while every considerate employer knows that cheerfulness and
contentment of disposition, which are perhaps more promoted by good home
accommodations for the workingman than by any other influence, are
strong incentives to increased labor on his part, and more fidelity in
its application.

A landed estate, of whatever extent, with its respectable farm house,
in its own expressive style of construction, relieved and set off by its
attendant cottages, either contiguous, or remote, and built in their
proper character, leaves nothing wanting to fill the picture upon which
one loves to gaze in the contemplation of country life; and without
these last in due keeping with the chief structures of the estate, a
blank is left in its completeness and finish. The little embellishments
which may be given, by way of architectural arrangement, or the
conveniences in accommodation, are, in almost all cases, appreciated by
those who occupy them, and have an influence upon their character and
conduct; while the trifling decorations which may be added in the way of
shrubbery, trees, and flowering plants, costing little or nothing in
their planting and keeping, give a charm to the humblest abode.

The position of cottages on a farm should be controlled by
considerations of convenience to the place of labor, and a proper
economy in their construction; and hardly a site can be inappropriate
which ensures these requirements. In the plans which are submitted, due
attention has been paid to the comfort of those who inhabit them, as
well as to picturesque effect in the cottage itself. Decency, order, and
respectability are thus given to the estate, and to those who inhabit
the cottages upon it, as well as to those whose more fortunate position
in life has given the enjoyment of a higher luxury in the occupancy of
its chief mansion.

On all estates where the principal dwelling is located at any
considerable distance from the public road, or where approached by a
side road shut off from the highway by a gate, a small cottage, by way
of lodge, or laborer's tenement, should be located at or near the
entrance. Such appendage is not only ornamental in itself, but gives
character to the place, and security to the enclosure; in guarding it
from improper intrusion, as well as to receive and conduct into the
premises those who either reside upon, or have business within it. It is
thus a sort of sentry-box, as well as a laborer's residence.




[Illustration: COTTAGE. Pages 211-212.]

DESIGN I.


This cottage is 10 feet high, from the sill to the plates, and may be
built of wood, with a slight frame composed of sills and plates only,
and planked up and down (vertically) and battened; or grooved and
tongued, and matched close together; or it may be framed throughout with
posts and studs, and covered with rough boards, and over these
clapboards, and lathed and plastered inside. The first mode would be the
cheapest, although not so warm and durable as the other, yet quite
comfortable when warmed by a stove. On the second plan of building,
it will cost near or quite double the amount of the first, if neatly
painted. A small brick chimney should rest upon the floor overhead, in
the side of which, at least a foot above the chamber floor, should be
inserted an earthen or iron thimble, to receive the stovepipe and guard
against fire; unless a flat stone, 14 to 16 inches square, and 2 to 4
inches thick, with a pipe-hole--which is the better plan--should rest on
the floor immediately over the pipe. This stone should be, also, the
foundation of the chimney, which should pass immediately up through the
ridge of the roof, and, for effect, in the center longitudinally, of the
house. Such position will not interfere with the location of the stove,
which may be placed in any part of the room, the pipe reaching the
chimney by one or more elbows.

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