Bless'd is our land, above all others bless'd,— No haughty Lord here tramples down the Poor ; Nor furious Soldier burst your sacred door. The cultur'd land, exuberant bounty brings; In chains of gold our world's by Commerce bound; The Printing-press supplies the arts with wings; Humanity consummates our renown. We've every good without the curse of kings, And I'm the Herald of these glorious things, A small reward is all I shiv'ring ask: Next year I've something better still, to say, "That joys substantial may your steps attend, So much for my shivering, frost-bitten Muse, and her trembling lyre! Do you think she would ever earn enough to buy herself a pair of snowshoes? Adieu! and attribute this long and tedious epistle to bad weather and its consequences, weakness of body and of mind of your friend BENJAMIN WATERHOUSE. LETTER CCLXIV. From the same. Cambridge, March 9, 1801. The large seeds produce a squash, or rather pumpkin, of an admirable flavour. I found them on the Island of Nantucket, when I was called there about two years ago to see a patient. I was struck with the sight of its enormous leaf and spacious vine. They told me that some of their whale-men brought the seed from Cape Horn, a few years ago; they therefore called it the Cape Horn Pumpkin. But when I brought the seed on to the Continent, and distributed them in this quarter, I gave it the name of the Patagonian Pumpkin. They are dressed like the winter squash. They make admirable puddings, and also bread, when mixed with half flour, or Indian meal (i. e. ground Indian corn). As to their cultivation, we generally put five seeds in a hill, just like cucumbers, with some manure; yet they grow well in the sandy soil of Nantucket, where they scarcely know what the word manure means; for although that Island is 120 miles from Boston, yet they carry their winter vegetables, even cabbages, from that port. The smaller seeds in the same paper-bag are the winter or crooked-neck-squash, similar to those I sent a year or two past. I have filled up the box with a few ears of Indian corn; they are of an uncommonly large size, and of my own growth. I grew (to use an Anglicism, which we Yankees smile at) about 160 bushels of such ears the past season. It makes the chief bread of my family; I prefer it to all others, and (behold the similarity of taste) so did General Washington; he never chose to breakfast without it. It is made with great expedition, simply by mixing it with boiling water and a little salt, and baking it before the fire for about fifteen minutes; hence it is called Journey-cake. We make it about a quarter of an inch thick; when it is brought on table we split it and butter it, and I prefer it to the richest cake ever invented. My wife has also put in, to fill up the box, a sample of starch, of her own growth and manufacture. It is made of potatoes, and manufactured by the children. I believe, but am not certain, that the same practice is pursued in some parts of England. If it be a new thing with you, I will send a particular account of the process; for I take it that you are now under the necessity of studying how to save wheat. B. W. LETTER CCLXV. From the same. Cambridge, Nov. 16, 1802. I have sent, by this opportunity, a few pages of my publication on the Kine-pock, to Mr. Ring. The whole will be printed within a month. Every body will approve of the absolute propriety of addressing it to yourself and to Dr. Jenner, when they know that the first intimation I ever had of the cow-pox came from Dr. Lettsom, and that Dr. Jenner has been to me what the sun is to the moon. Should any of you think this book of sufficient importance to admit of a London edition, I shall add to it an Epistle Dedicatory, expressive of these obligations. But more of this hereafter. I shall bear in mind the LL.D. for Dr. Jenner next July. We give degrees but once a year. Dr. Jenner has just sent me a present I highly prize, a silver box inlaid with gold of exquisite taste and workmanship, bearing this inscription "Edward Jenner to Benjamin Waterhouse." But Mr. Ring annexed the superscription in rather an hyperbolical style, "From the Jenner of the Old World to the Jeuner of the New World." Long will it remain among the sacræ relictæ of my family. B. W. VOL. II. II LETTER CCLXVI. From the same. Cambridge, May 28, 1807. You mention that on reading over again my Lecture on Tobacco, you was more gratified than at first. I may venture to mention to a friend, that this little production acquired more popularity than any medical or philosophical publication ever printed in America. It excited the attention of all parents who had sons in Colleges. It was popular with every one who had journeymen, apprentices, or clerks, who were apprehensive of fire from smoking cigars. It was popular with the married ladies, whose husbands were in that habit; and it was violently popular with all the young ones who wished for husbands, and hated the smell of tobacco. It was a matter of serious consideration with the clergy, because it called their virtue in question. The subject was a standing joke after dinner, when the fruit, wine, and cigars, were set on the table. Wherever I went in town or country, men, women, and children, were pointing me out as the gentleman who wrote against cigars. Did this feed my vanity? Not absolutely. I was mortified that my labours in Vaccination were, seemingly, less valued than my |