NORTH KENNEBEC SOCIETY. 203 



" Not in vain to him are sent 



Seed time and harvest, or the vernal shower 



That darkens the brown tilth, or snow that beats 



On the white winter hills. Each brings in turn. 



Some truth ; some lesson on the life of man, 



Or recognition of tlie Eternal Mind, 



Who veils his glory with the elements." 



He observes, with more tlian ordinary interest, the condition, 

 and supplies with tender concern, the wants, of his animals. 

 The ox knoweth this master's crib, and never findeth it empt)^ 

 This man calleth his sheep by name, and they know his voice, 

 and follow him. He recognizes his horse as not merely a beast 

 of burden, but as a companion and a friend ; not as an unfeel- 

 ing brute to be whipped and spurred to draw a load too great 

 for his strength, or to perform a race too difdcult for his power, 

 but as a noble servant, willing to obey him to the extent of his 

 ability ; an intelligent, a sensitive creature, knowing the mean- 

 ing of a kind word, or a gentle pat of the hand upon the neck, 

 and on the alert to bear him over the course, with the swiftness? 

 of the wind. 



I know not whom we should wish to be like, if not this man ; 

 whose condition to make our own, if not his. And this, I 

 imagine, is what so many mean, who say : " The farmer's life is 

 the noblest, the most independent, the happiest." They are 

 not using the terms of flattery, nor do they mean the narrow, 

 the unprofitable, the discontented, the miserable life, the far- 

 mer's life often is, but they mean the life it ought to be. Their 

 desire, when they promise themselves a rural home in the future, 

 is to attain the estate, which is so distinct and beautiful in the 

 best idea of life on a farm. Their prayer is to attain and to 

 enjoy a competency somewhere upon the warm and loving 

 bosom of their mother earth — somewhere away from the strife 

 and the turmoil of the crowded town — to leave, for such a spot, 

 whereon to spend, in honest toil and cheerful peace, life's last 

 days — 



" The vain low strife 

 That makes men mad — the tug for wealth and power, 

 The passions and the cares that wither life, 

 And waste its little hour." 



