California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



^MiXlh 



The Untilled Land. 



ALTEKED FROM DCOANNK. 



cSi 



v^S'HE water bath fish and tho land hath flesh, 



tAuil tbe air hath many a bird ; 

 And the soil is teeming u'ur tho earth, 

 And fruits grow fuir in many lauds, 

 Yet iiiillinnti uf hands want acru-B, 

 And millions of acres want hands. 



Sunlight and breeze and gladeorae flowers 



Are o'er the earth spread wide, 

 AJid Nature gave these gilts to men. 



To utl who on earth abide. 

 The fioil lies fallow, the woods grow rank, 



Yt;t idle tbe poor man stands. 

 Ah, niilliims of hands want acres, 



And mtllione of acres want hands. 



Tis writ that we " should not muzzle tho ox 



That treadeth out the corn," 

 Yet behold, ye shackle the poor man's limba, 



That all earth's burdens have borue I 

 The land is the gift of Nature to man, 



And labor is Nature's command, 

 Yet millit>us of hands want acres. 



And millions of acres want handa. 



■Who hath ordained that the few should hoard 



Their millions of useless gold, 

 Aud rob the earth of its fruits and flowers, 



"While proHtless soil tht y hold? 

 Who hath urdained that a parchment scroll 



Shall fence round miU-s of lands, 

 When millions of hands want acres, 



And millions of acres want hands? 



'TiB a glaring lie on the face of day. 



This robbery of men's rights I 

 •Tis a lie that the face of Nature disowns I 



'Tis a curse that burns aud blights ! 

 And 'twill burn and blight till the people rise 



And swear, while they burst their bauds, 

 That hands heucefurth shall have the acres. 



And the acres henceforth have hands. 



To a Young Man Leaving Home. 



You're starting to-day on life's journey. 



Alone on the highway of life ; 

 You'll meet with a thousand temptations — 



Each city with evil is rife. 

 This world is a stage of excitement. 



There's danger wherever you go ; 

 But if yovi are tempted iu weakness, 



Have courage, my boy, to say " No I" 



The siren's sweet song may allure you ; 



Beware of her cunning and art ! 

 Whenever y<^)U see her approaching. 



Be guarded and haste to depart. 

 The billiard saloons are inviting, 



Decked out in their tinsel and show ; 

 You may be invited to enter ; 



Have courage, my boy, to say '* No I" 



The bright ruby wine may be offered ; 



No matter how tempting it be. 

 From poison that stings like an adder. 



My boy. have the courage to flee.^ 

 The gambling hulls are before you ; 



Their lights— how they dance to and fro I 

 If you should be tempted to enter. 



Look twice, even thrice, ere vou do. 



In courage alone lies your safety, 



When you the long journey begin. 

 And trust in good moral precepts 



Will keep you unspotted trom sin. 

 Temptations will go on increasing, 



As streams from a rivulet llow, 

 But if you are true to your manhood. 



Have the courage, my boy, to say •' No t" 



The Two Reapers. 



Two reapers toiled, their task half done. 



Had reached a tree whose shade had run 



Full twice its length. 



With failing strength 



Both cast themselves beneath. 



Both gnashed their teeth 



And cm-fed theit lot : 

 •'We toil and sweat, we sweat and t^il, 

 And while the owner of this soil 

 Is blessed with plenty through our sweat, 

 We scarcely have enough to eat," 

 Thus reasoning, one reached forth his hand 



To grasp a pot. 

 Both took a li^ught. Oh, what disgrace I 

 The fiery stuff soon flushed their face 



And temper too. 

 Says one : *' This world is all a chance. 

 I'll not believe in Providence. 

 Through rain or shine, through cold or hot. 

 We toil and labor all for naught." 

 A zi-phyr passed, his voice was heard. 

 Witli titiderness her heart was stirred. 

 And bending low to make hiui hoar, 

 She whispered softly in his ear : 

 " God is to you a partial Father. 

 While you drink rum, this farmer water !" 



— [Wm, Home. 



To-Day and To-Morrow. 



Awake my soul I with eager zeal 



The daily task beginning ; ■ 

 For labor hath its pleasures real. 



And doubly worth the winning. 

 What though with toil and care oppressed, 



Tho day seems long and dreary V 

 We should not know the joy of rest 



If we were never wftary. 

 Then up I and banish sloth away. 



Nor care nor trouble borrow ; 

 For patient, earnest toil To-day 



Wins triumphs for To-morrow. 



What though the heedless crowd around 



May gi'eet you with their laughter? 

 It jn-ovi's tliut they have never found 



What we are seeking after — 

 The lofty joy, the pure delight. 



That ligliis the path of duty; 

 That makes the earth abou* us bright 



And life a thing of beauty. 

 Then up 1 and banish sloth away 



At work-bench or in furrow ; 

 Let others laugh at us To-day, 



We'll laugh at them To-morrow. 



This lesson Nature yet instills. 



As well as Uevelation — 

 That everything created fiUs 



Some chasm in creation. 

 There's not a grass-blade in tho vale. 



Or flower that looks to heaven, 

 To which, could we but read tho tale,' 



Some use has not been given. 

 Then up 1 let us of nobler clay 



From these a lesson borrow ; 

 For sloth and idleness To-day 



Will bring regret To-murrow. 



Tho meanest worm that crawls the dust. 



Before its life is euded, 

 Accomplishes the purpose just 



For which it was intended. 

 Think ye that man alone hath been 



Placed in the world to mar it? 

 Shall we live, and our fellow-men 



Be none the better for it? 

 No ! let us lend a feeble ray 



To light the gloom of sorrow ; 

 For we, who profler aid To-day, 



May need the same To-morrow. 



We each can make, though small and weak. 



The world a little brighter. 

 With every cheering word we speak 



Somebody's heart is lighter. 

 And should misfortune be our share. 



With grief and pain attended, 

 a^-h pang with patience let us bear. 



We know 'twiU soon be ended. 

 Though rough and thorny be our way. 



And paved with pain and sorrow — 

 Though we may sow iu tears To-day, 



We'll reap in joy To-morrow, 



Don't Run in Debt. 



Don't run in debt — never mind, never mind 



If your clothes are all faded and torn ; 

 Fix: 'em up, make 'em do— it is better by far 



Thau to have the heart weary and worn 

 Who will love you the more for the set of your hat, 



Or your rufl". or the tie of your shoe ; 

 The style of your boots, or shade of cravat. 



If they know you're in debt for the new? 



Good frien.ls, let me beg of you, don't run in debt. 



If the chairs and the sofa are old ; 

 They'll lit yuur backs better than any new set. 



Unless they are paid for— with gold. 

 If the house is too small, draw the closer together, 



Keep it warm with a hearty good will. 

 A big one, uupaid-for, in all kinds of weather 



Will send to the warm heart a chill. 



Don't run in debt— dear girls, take a hint ; 



If the fashions have changed since last season. 

 Old Nature is out in the very same tint. 



And old Nature, methinks, has some reason. 

 But just say to your friends, I cannot afford 



To spend time to keep up with fashion ; 

 My purse is too light and honor too bright 



To be tarnished with such silly passions. 



Gents, don't run in debt— let your friends, if they 

 want. 



Have tine houses and clothing and flowers ; 

 But imless they are paid for, be more of a man 



Than to eu\*y their sunshiny hours. 

 If you've money to spare I've nothing to eay. 



Spend your dollars and dimes as you please ; 

 But uiind you, the man who his note has to pay. 



Is the man who is never at ease. 



Kind husbands, don't run in debt any more, 

 * 'Twill till yoiu" wife's cup full of sorrow. 

 To know that a neighbor may call at your door 



Willi a bill you mu^t settle to-morrow. 

 O, take my advice, it is good, it is true I 



lint lest you may, some of you. doubt it, 

 1*11 whisper a secret, now seeing 'tis you — 



I've tried it and know all about it. 



The chain of a debtor is heavy and cold. 



Its links all corrosion and rust ; 

 Gild it o'er as you will, it is never of gold, 



Then spurn it aside with disgust — 

 " I've tried it and know ail about it." 



Pace Implora. 



BY JOAQUIX MILLEB. 



Better It were to sit still by the sea. 

 Loving somebody and satisHed — 

 Better it were to grow babes on the kneo, 

 To anchor you do\i-n for all your days- 

 Thau wander and wander iu all thetio ways. 

 Land forgotten and love denied. 



Better sit still where born, I say. 



Wed one sweet woman and love her well, 



Laugli with your neighbors and live in their way, 



J!r It Mtver so humble. Tlie humbler the home, 



The nobler, indeed, to bear your part. 



Love and be h'Ved with all your heart. 



Drink sweet waters and <lream in a spell. 



Share your delights and divide your tears. 



Love and be loved in the (»ld east way. 



Ere men knew maduehs and came to roam 



From the west to the east and the whole world wide — 



When they lived where their fath<TS had lived aud 



died— 

 Lived so loved for a thousand years. 



Better it wejo for the world, I say- 

 Better, indeed, for a man's own good — 

 That he should sit down where he was born, 

 Be it land of sands or of oil and corn, 

 Valley of jjoppies or bleak norihland. 

 White sea-border or great black wood, 

 Or bleak white winter or bland sweet May, 

 Or city of smoke or plain of the sun — 

 llum wander the world sin 1 have done. 

 Breaking the heart into bits of clay. 

 And leaving it scattered on every hand. 

 Venice, 1874, 



[—Overland Monthly, 



Labor. 



Toil swings the axe and forests bow, 



'Ibe seeds break out in radiant bloom. 

 Rich harvests smile behind the plow. 



And cities clusti-r round the loom. 

 Wher*) towering domes end tapering spires 



Adorn the vale and crown the hill. 

 Stout Labor lights its beacon lires 



And plumes with smoke the forge and mill. 



The monan-h oak, tho wcKxlland's pride. 



Whose trunk is seamed with lightning scars. 

 Toil launches on the ^estle^s tide 



And there unrolls the flag of stars. 

 The engine, with his lungs of flame. 



And ribs of brass, and joints of steel. 

 From Labor's plastic Angers came, 



With sobbing valve and whirling wheel. 



'Tis Labor works the magic press, 



And turns tbe crank in hives f>f toil, 

 And beckons angels down to bless 



Industrious hands on sea and soil. 

 Here sun-browned toil, with shining spade. 



Links lake to lake with silver ties. 

 Strung thick with palaces of trade 



And temples towering to the skies, 



The Plough. 



Far back in ages 



The plough with wreaths was crownod ; 

 The hands of kings aud sages 



Entwined tlie chaplets round. 

 Till men of spoil disdained the toil 



By which the world was nourished. 

 And* bhxid and pillage were the soil 



In which their laurels flourished 

 Knw the world her fault despairs. 



The guilt that stains her story. 

 And wfceps her crimes amid the carts 



That form her earliest glory. 



The throne shall crumble. 



The diadem shall wane. 

 The tribes of earth shall humble 



Tbe pride of those who reign; 

 And war shall lay his pomp away ; 



The fame that heroes cherish. 

 The glory earned in deadly fniy. 



Shall fade, decay and i)erish. 

 Houor waits o'er all the earth. 



Through endless generations. 

 Tbe art that calls the harvest forth 



And feeds the expectant nations. 



— (Wm. C. Brj-ant. 



Mist. 



How do the rivulets find their way ? 

 How do the flowers know the day. 

 And open their cups to catch the ray? 



I see the germ to tho sunlight reach. 



And the nestlings know tbe old birds' speech ; 



I do not see who is there to teach. 



I see the hare from the danger hide, 



Aud the sLirs through the pathless spaces ride ; 



I do not see that they have a guide. 



He is eyes for all who 13 eyes for the mole ; 

 All motion goes to the rightful goal ; 

 O, God i I can trust for the human soul. 



— [Chas. G. Ames 



Between two evils choose neither, 



