THE DAIRY.--This is a sufficiently roomy building, of one story, situated in a little dell a short distance from the mansion. One of the gable ends abuts against a nearly perpendicular cliff, out of which bursts a clear gurgling spring, that takes its course through the centre of the rocky floor of the dairy, and then finds its way into the valley below. Here is every convenience for making butter and cheese, in which Mr. Grey excels. We have dwelt thus minutely on the plantation, stock, and buildings of Mr. Grey, because we consider them an excellent example to follow in Kentucky; and also for the purpose of giving our northern readers a general idea of the husbandry at the west, of which the great majority entertain the most indefinite notions imaginable. MR. HART'S PLANTATION.--After taking an early dinner, Mr. Grey ordered up his buggy, and we started for Mr. Nathaniel Hart's. This was some few miles off, yet in order to get there we paid no attention to the public roads, but took our way over gentle hill and dale, through woodland-pastures, and among fields containing a hundred acres or more in each, under a single fence. For the purpose of opening and shutting the field-gates as we passed, we were accompanied by an ebony urchin, as out-rider, mounted on the bare back of a high-spirited gray nag, which he rode with no little address. This seemed quite a gala business for him; and bare-headed, with his thick woolly locks fluttering in the wind, and his shirt-collar wide open, he went grinning along, now advancing at a hard gallop, and anon closing up at a fast trot, swinging open and shutting to the gates, shaking his pate, and hallooing to every animal that he thought did not move with sufficient alacrity from our destined path. "Yo! ho! So you no move, Misser Cow--then Pompey make you," and at her he charged, brandishing a long stick, like a Cossack of the Don with his spear, the gray nag at the same time laying back his ears, and opening his mouth, and showing his teeth, as if grinning in fiery sympathy with his redoubtable rider, and ready to devour the animal that so sluggishly obstructed the path. But one look from the cow, or whatever beast it might be, at the horse and boy, seemed quite enough; and without waiting further hints, they would shake their tails, then give them a slight curl, and set off at a round scamper, the triumphant Pompey following up their career a short distance, singing with high satisfaction:-- I tell you so, now Misser Cow; Yo, ho, you go, bow wow, bow wow.