California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



[For the Calipoknia AGRlonT-TtTBisT.] 



Cive Me the Hand that is Friendry 

 Forever. 



BY AGNES. 



^ 



§S mortals advance iuto life's iloeponing shadows. 

 The Deed of true frieudship wu all mudt con- 

 fess ; 

 It may come from the hand that is destined to 

 labor, 

 It may come from sweet childhood which 

 lives but to bless; 

 Yet soft p»lm. or hard hand, it matters not 

 never, 

 Give me the hand that is friendly forever. 



In the whirl of life's duties, we fail to remember 

 Th(5 mauy demaudH human kinduets requires. 



And greedily gather life's blosBom and sunshine. 

 Whilst broken hearts i)erish and friendship expires ; 



Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, 

 Give me the band that is friendly forever. 



When fortune her jewels profusely bestows. 

 We cling to our idols and hold them in fear ; 



Lest friends may prove traitors, and cunningly rob ue 

 Of much that makes living desirable her© ; 



Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, 

 Give me the hand that is friendly forever. 



We cast our thoughts round us and proudly exclaim, 

 Our friends are as legion, they'll surely remain. 



But fortune escapes us ; disease comes in train, 

 When nothing is left us but suffering and pain ; 



Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, 

 We'll cling to the hand that js friendly forever. 



Sowing and Reaping. 



A sower went out to sow one day. 



When a city maiden chanced that way ; 



A sweet, wee maiden with just a ti-ace 



Of lingering babyhood in her face, 



And she paused where the farmer sowed bis grain. 



And uttered a cry half joy, half pain : 



** What beautiful things, so golden red 



And shining 1 Pray ! are they gems ?" she said, 



*' And why do you bury them imderground 



Where never a sound of them may be found ? 



They'd be so pretty for dolly and me 



To play with under the beecheu-tree I" 



"Now, Heaven forgive me !" the farmer said : 

 " But, child, my little ones must be fed I 

 Why, this is corn, and I plant it here, 

 That I may liave food for them all next year. 

 Should I see them starve and die instead ? 

 Nay, but my little ones must have bread." 



But still the child, with a wistful glance. 

 Kept watching the treasure hall atikauce. 

 As it dropt from his hand like drops of gold. 

 And buried itstlf in the silent lunld ; 

 So he paused and gave to her hiindfuls twain 

 Of his scarlet beans and his golden grain. 



"True, it is little the likes of me 



Can spare from the children's bread," said ho : 



" But God provides for the sparrow even, 



And 1 am on earth and He is iu heaven ; 



He will send his sunshine, and dew, and ralQ, 



And give me back my own again." 



A rustle, as if of a silken gown I 



Or was it a bird s wing sweeping down 



From yonder thicket of beechen-trees. 



Or a mad-cap freak of the soft spring breeze? 



What mattered it? tio, with a glad content. 



Again to his toil the sower bent. 



— Months passed ; Grod's beautiful sun and rain 

 Their yearly mirsclo wrought ; again 

 The farmer stoixl in his field, but now 

 With a grateful heart and leverent brow. 

 For a plentiful harvest around him smiled. 

 And his thoughts went back to the little child. 



" Sure, never was field so blessed before 

 As this," he said ; *' 'twas a scanty store 

 I gave the maiden ; but who divides 

 With others, a blessing with him abides "— 

 And his lips grew glad with a grateful tune 

 In the hush of that auturoai afternoon. 



But, see ! as he gathers his fruitful sheaves. 

 What treasure is this among the leaves? 

 A silttu purse ! in its lustrous hold 

 Ten shining pieces of solid gold I 

 How came it here, like a gift of God, 

 Wuere never a foot but his own had trod ? 



Again a stir near the beechen trees I 



But this time neither of bird nor breeze i^ 



A lady ! clad in a wondrous sheen. 



Of silk and gome, like an Eastern Queen ; 



And, cinsr tu h._^r Hide, th.- litO- ehiid. 



Sweet thoughts of whom had his toil beguiled, 



" It is yonrs, my lady "—ho raised the gold— 



" Niiy, keep the treasure," she said, "behold, 



God sends it you ! It was surely He 



Wlio led my steps by the beecUcii tree 



That sweet spring morn when you shared your seed 



With oue of His little ones at her need. 



" And 80, if He designs to use ray baud 

 In Sowing His seed— (you understand) :— 

 Giving me all that I want and more. 

 From out uf the overflowing store. 

 Should I not scatter of here or there? 

 Shall you bless others and I forbear ?" 



O beautiful Gospel of human need 

 And human sympathy I Here, indeed. 

 Together the rich and poor may meet, 

 Each with his oflenng, helpful, sweet ; 

 Nor this too costly, nor that too sm&U 

 With Him who is Maker of us all. 



Good Farmer James. 



If you had known good farmer James, 

 Whose life in ways of labor ran. 



You would have known of sterling worth- 

 The virtues of an honest man. 



He never traveled far away ; 



A luieign shore he ne'er had seen. 

 And all his life was humbly passed 



Where his forefathers' lives had been. 



His fields were ample for his wish. 

 And yielded croi>s, with some to spare 



For those whose lives were sorrowful 

 With BickuesB, poverty and care ; 



For 'twas his pleasure to astst 

 In every way the worthy poor. 



And when the suffering came his way 

 No bolts were found upon the door. 



Yet idleness ne'er found a friend 

 In Farmer James. Sloth was a vice ; 



And carelessness and levity 

 Were wrong and sinful in his eyes. 



His was the ever constant aim 

 To help his fellows all he could ; 



And ue're was he so happy as 

 When to his neighbors doing good. 



His life was simple from the first. 

 And when it ripued to its close. 



And he was laid away, for him 

 No word but that of praise arose ; 



For he had left a legacy 



Richer than gold and jewels prove — 

 A legacy of honest worta. 



Of uoble actions, and of love. 



A Rainy Day. 



DT Al^KED B. 8TBEET, 



The bright rain-tassels of the skies 

 Drip trom their cloudy, leaden crown ; — 



And like a sponge the landscape lies 

 Itetkiug and sullen, dumb and brown. 



Bushes and trees their leafy hands 



Clap, as each lirop their surface pats ; — 



The Burly hemlock, twitching, stands 

 Like Poutu in a haze of gnats. 



Under the rumbling cart that stoops 

 To drink the pool that mantk-s round, 



Brawn to one crescent feather, droops 

 The curlesfi cock, a king discrowned. 



Pame Partlet in her brindled hues 



Sits tamely by and preens her breast ; — 



W"hile poor, drenched Tabby peevish im.-ws 

 Beneath the woodshed's dripping crest 



Within the dusky half-light there. 

 See-sawing pigeons pick the oats ; 



There leans the spado, and glints the share. 

 Dull grms the rake, the buck-saw gloats. 



Moist wood-scents wander in the breeze. 

 Mixed with the garden's dampened sweets ; 



And the wet fragrance of the trees. 

 The rainy flail forth ceaseless beats. 



The dncks roll up belighted eyes; 



All talk at once, ttieir feather's shake. 

 Even seek to fly, then each one plies 



Way on the flowing cistern's lake. 



The cow stands swinging meek her cud, 

 And wistful eyes the meadow near ; — 



While Whitey shows in many a thud 

 Impatience of his stable drear. 



And still gray tassels streak the air. 



And rumble still cart, barn, and shed ; — 



Rain, weary rain, fallt; t.-verywh^re. 

 And nature drenched looks dull and dead, 



How desolate the sodden field ! 



The rubbing tree stands dank and dark ;— 

 The lir's firm boughs no covert yield. 



Though curving teuC-liko round the bark. 



From the wet stack the vapors shrug ; — 

 VVilliin yawn coverts warm and dry. 



Where Brindle bhelters sleek and snug, 

 Protected from the Irowniug sky. 



The cottage door, swung open, shows 



The streaked duwk scene within ; there sits 



The grandsire where the chiminey glows. 

 Puss purs, and there the grandam knits. 



The tottling grandchild ridps the dog. 



Or strikes him whimpering wllh his whip ; 



Sport yells when fired on by the hig*. 

 Then ujiward starts and bites his hip, 



Thero ticks the clock with endless swing; 



The wood-ch.-iirs gleem in crimson gloss ; 

 The kitten gambols with the string. 



While the domed drops the panes emboss. 



The rainy day, though desolate. 



Prophetic tells to-morrow's light;— 



Like tears of sorrow that create 

 The bow which makes all nature bright. 



Going After the Cows. 



They waited then-, by the pasture bars- 



Dapnle and Dolly, "and Dmi, 

 So I slip the bars in the well-worn posts 



And drop them one by one ; 

 But I do not go. as I always go, 



'Jo see the milking done. 



I lean my cheek on the pasture bars. 

 And watch the stars come out ; 



Perhaps they will miss me, up at the house. 

 And wonder what I am about ; 



But I've something to think of here to-night 

 While I wati^'h the stars come out. 



Last night when I came for the beauties^ 



Willie was walking with me, 

 And he asked me if I thought ever 



A farmer's wife I could be ; 

 For 1 am a city girl, you know. 



And a farmer's son is he. 



Willie wears home-spun trowsers, 



And such a course straw hat I 

 But he face that looks from under the rim. 



Is handsome and brave, for all that ; 

 And his eyes, they look at me so queer 



That my heart goes pit-a-pat. 



Every night, when the work is dAie, 



We sit in the twilight gray — 

 Willie and I, in t!ie ivied porch. 



And sing the hours away ; 

 I think it's better than opera. 



Or theatre, any day. 



He said last night, that the summer 



Is brighter because I am here. 

 That his work was never so easy 



As it is when I am near — 

 And he taid— but there, I won't tell. 



Such words are too sacred and dear. 



How pure is the breath of the clover. 

 That comes from the meadows mown 1 



How holv the sky above me. 



With the twinkling lights full sown t 



No wonder that Willie is better 

 Than men who live in town. 



So I think I will stay in the country. 

 With Dolly, anil Dapple, and Dun ; 



Perhaps iu the far. sweet summers. 

 They would know should I fail to como. 



In the dewy-eve, to the pasturi: bars. 

 To lirop them, oue by one. 



The Grasshoppers* Raid. 



BY EUDOBA MAY STONE, 



The 'hoppers came down like a wolf on the fold. 

 Where the com and the wheat fields were emerald and 

 g..ld ; _ 



And the sheen of their wings was as snow in the sty. 

 When winty clouds gather, and north winds are high. 



Like the blades of the grass, when the Sunmier la 



green. 

 The corn and potatoes, at sunrise, were seen ; 

 Like the prairie in Autumn, where tire has swept 



through. 

 The fields were laid bare ere the falling of dew. 



And the grasshoppers spread their broad wings to the 



blast. 

 And ate every tm'uip and beet as they passed ; 

 And the onions and peas that were thrifty at dawn 

 Waved but once in the wind, and forever were gone. 



And there lay the radish, all scarlet and white. 

 But its " grasshoppered " leaves were a pitiful sight, 

 And there stood the rhubarb, so sadly bereft 

 That, alas ! there was only its skeleton left. 



The farmers of Otoe are loud in their wail. 



The ehildren are sad aud the boo ewife is pale; 



And the corn and the wheat fields, unsmote by the 



knife. 

 To the Eavenons 'hopper have yielded their life. 



Fanners will always remain poor so long as 

 they allow others to do their thinking. 



