California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



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The Country Boy. 



PITY tho poor little country boy, 



Away on his lonely farm! 

 The holidays bring him no elegant toy; 

 He has no money; there is no shop: 

 Even Christmas morning hia work 



doesn't stop; 

 He has cows to milk, — he has wood to 

 chop. 

 And carry in on his arm." 



Did you hear that, Fred, as you came through 

 the gate. 



With your millt-pail full tc the brim? 

 No envy hid under yuur curly brown pate — 

 You were watching a star in the morning sky. 

 And a star seemed shining out of your eye; 

 Y'our thoughts were glad, you couldn't tell why; 



But they were not of toys, or of him. 



Tet the city boy said what he kindly meant. 



Walking on by his mother's side, 

 With his eyes on the toy-shop windows bent. 

 Wishing for all that his eyes could see; 

 Longing and looking and teasing went he. 

 Nor dreamed that a single pleasure could be 



Afar in your woodlands wild. 



You ate your breakfast that morning, Fred, 



As a country buy should eat; 

 Then you jumped with your father upon the sled 

 And were olf to the hill for a load of wood; 

 Quiet and patient tJie oxen stood. 

 And the snowy world looked cheerful and good. 



While you stamped to warm your feet. 



Tlien your father told you to take a run, 



And you started up the hill; 

 You were alone, but it was such fun I 

 The larch and the pine tree seemed racing past 

 Instead of yourself, you went so fast; 

 But, rosy and out of breath, at last 



You stood in the sunshine still. 



And all of a sudden there came the thought — 



While a brown leaf toward you whirled. 

 And a chickadee sang, as If they brought 

 Something they meant on purpose for you. 

 As if the trees to delight you grew, 

 As if the sky for your sake was blue— 

 "It is such a beautiful world!" 



The graceful way that the spruce trees had 



Of holding their soft, white load. 

 You saw and admired; and your heart was glad. 

 As you laid on the trunk of a beech your hand. 

 And beheld the wonderful mountains stand 

 In a chain of crystal, clear and grand. 



At the end of the widening road . 



Oh, Fred! without knowing, you held a gift 



That a mine of gold could not buy: 

 Something the soul of a man to lift 

 From the tiresome earth, and to make him see 

 How beautifid common things can be— 

 A glimse of heaven in a wayside tree — 

 'I'he gift of an artist's eye! 



What need had you of money, my boy. 



Or the presents money can bring. 

 When every breath was a breath of joy? 

 You owned the whole woUd, with its hills and 



trees, 

 The sun, and the clouds, and the bracing breeze, 

 And yuur hands to work with: having these, 



You were richer than any king. 



When the dusk drew on, by the warm hearth 

 fire, 

 You needed nobody' r pity; 

 But you said, as the soft flames moiinted higher. 

 And the eye and cheek of your mother grew 



bright. 

 While she smiled and talked in tho lovely light 

 (A picture of pictures, to your sight) , 

 " I am sorry for boys in the city!" 



—[St, Nicholas, 



"OUR CORNER." 



M'ell, little folks, hero we are, 

 with so many letters I'm afraid the Edi- 

 tor will hardly give us room for them all, 

 but Aunt Polly won't have to talk so 

 much if yon young folks keep the corner 

 filled. Don't make your letters too long, 

 and there'll be plenty of room for all. 

 We'll led Jenny speak first, as she brings 

 a rebus with her letter: 



LivERMoHE, January, 1870. 



Daui- Aunt Polly: — I was reiiding tho 

 .Xt'.RictTLTUiiisT and saw your Greeting to 

 tho Young Folks and the puzzle you 

 gave out, and thought, as you asked the 

 " cousins " to send in the answer if they 

 could find it out, I would send it, as I 

 had mnde it out. I think it a very hard 

 one indeed. I did not understand it at 

 first, and niy brother showed me how to 



make out the first one or two and I 

 found the rest out myself. The three- 

 fourths of a cross is 1'; the circle com- 

 plete is O; the upright where two semi- 

 circles meet is B; the acute-angled trian- 

 gle standing on feet is A; the two semi- 

 circles are C-C, and the circle complete 

 is — all together forming "Tobacco." 

 I remain yonr friend, Jennie D. 



Well done, Jenny! Your rebus will 

 be found below. I hope others will fol- 

 low your example and send in original 

 rebuses, charades, enigmas, riddles, co- 

 nundrums — anything for us to puzzle our 

 brains over. 



SoQUEL, January, 187G, 

 Bear Aunt Polh/: — My papa takes the 

 AGRictiLTUEisT, and I have read the let- 

 ters of the little boys and girls, so I 

 thought I would try and write one. I 

 have a nice little colt named ' ' Stocking- 

 feet." It is not old enough to ride yet. 

 We — my brother Frank and I — have got 

 a nice big black dog named " Nig," that 

 we are training to work in harness. 

 When we get him trained so he will 

 work good, Pajja has promised to make 

 us a nice wagon. We have lost the pa- 

 per that had your address in and don't 

 know how to direct this letter. Mamma 

 says direct it to the Agricultueist Of- 

 fice, San Jose. From your nephew, 

 G. M. Oed. 

 Aunt Polly is very glad you tried, and 

 wishes every one would do as much. 

 Next time direct to Aunt Polly, Agricul- 

 turist Office, San Jose. 



Dear Aunt Folly: — Mamma says that 

 you want all the little children to write 

 to you every mouth. I don't know what 

 to tell you about because I don't know 

 what you would like to know, but I hojje 

 some more boys and girls will write to 

 you and tell what they got for Christmas. 

 I think Tom's sister Mary was real good 

 to write for him, don't you? I laughed 

 at Tom losing his apples, but I think it 

 was real mean to play such a trick, don't 

 yon? I believe I know that boy, Tim, 

 that shot that rat, but his name ain't 

 Tim. To-day it is snowing a little, right 

 here in San Jose. Geoegie. 



AVhat Aunt Polly wants to hear about 

 is just what most interests you, and 

 whatever you think would be interesting 

 to the other little readers of Our Cor- 

 ner. 



Aunt Polly: — I am twelve years old, 

 but not too big to want to write to you, 

 because I've guessed the puzzle you put 

 in tho i^aper, and hope you will give us 

 a new one every month. I like puzzles. 

 The answer to this one is "Tobacco," 

 and I don't mean to ever use it. My 

 father don't, nor Uncle Ed, and it don't 

 seem as if a gentleman would, either. 

 Eddie T. 



Certainly you're not too big, Eddie. 

 Aunt Polly allows a great deal older boys 

 than you to write to her, provided they 

 don't use tobacco. 



SrEiNG Lake, Cal. 

 Dear Aunt Folly : — I am afraid to try 

 to write you a letter, because so many 

 little boys and girls will write so 

 much better letters than I can. I think 

 of lots I want to say, but somehow I 

 don't know how to tell it in a letter. 

 Mamma says we should always try. I 

 think it is a real nice plan to have a cor- 

 ner all to ourselves in the paper, and 

 hope lots of little boys and girls will 

 write letters for it, because it is such fun 

 to read them. I did not guess your puz- 

 zle, but was told the answer to it, and 

 I'm sure I hope that no one I like, or 

 ever care to like, will ever use such nasty 

 stuir. If all the girls in the world were 

 like me they would just say to the boys, 

 " If you use tobacco at all when you are 



men we will never, never speak to you, 

 or go anywhere with you, or do any- 

 thing you want us to — no never!" Would 

 not that be just right. Aunt Polly? And 

 they mustn't drink, whiaty either. Oh, 

 Aunt Polly, I guess my letter is too long 

 already, so I will close it. From your 

 little friend Willa Eose. 



It would no doubt be a good thing if 

 every little girl, and big girl too, were as 

 determined as Willa on the tobacco and 

 whisky subject; but she must remem- 

 ber that there are habits almost as bad 

 that little girls are apt to fall into. There 

 isn't room in the corner this month for 

 Willa's little brother, so he'll have to 

 wait. 



Aunt Polly thanks you all for your 

 letters, and hopes to hear from a great 

 many more cousins before next month. 

 She is sorry she has no hard puzzles for 

 you to crack this time, but she would 

 like to see who can form the greatest 

 number of separate words from the word 

 "carpets." Of course you can use each 

 letter as many times as you please. 



Here is an enigma some one has sent 

 us: 



I was not in the beginning, yet was 

 present at the creation, and with the 

 morning stars when they sang together; 

 with Moses when he talked with God 

 and with the old prophets, but not with 

 the disciples. I dwell neither on laud 

 nor water, yet itm found in the ocean 

 and on the continent. I am with the 

 old in their sorrow, and share the joys 

 of youth. I am a stranger to the rich, 

 but the miser cherishes me in his gold. 

 Am with the widow and orphan, yet 

 dwell with the opulent ;xnd am embraced 

 by all with love. I am with the school- 

 boy when he learns his lesson or spins 

 his top, and the schoolgirl speaks loudly 

 of me when she exclaims, " 0, do help 

 me write a composition!" 



Here is Jennie's rebus: 

 My first is in heat but not in cold; 

 My second is in silcer but not in gold ; 

 My third is in fear but not in doubt; 

 My whole is what no man can live with- 

 out. 



N. B. — The answers should ;ihvays 

 accompany puzzles that are sent. 



Ijouodioldf^ciuliug; 



FRIENDLY LETTERS--No I. 



BY MES. M. E. T. 



eae Editor: Please permit me to ex- 

 press my admiration for the new 

 volume of the Agricultueist. It 

 is delightful, and too much cannot 



be said in its praise. I would like, 



also, to thank those who have, by their 

 labors, aided you in placing before us a 

 miigazine so admirably adapted to our 

 real wants. Every page is fraught with 

 interest. The selections are well chosen, 

 the jjoetry excellent, and letters and 

 other correspondence instructive in the 

 highest degree; the 3vholo presenting a 

 delightful reality that cannot fail to bo 

 appreciated by readers everywhere. 

 What a pleasant treat are the letters 

 from the little folks to Aunt Polly? and 

 who does not love to rciul them ? 

 Please allow me to say to tho 



little BOiS AND GIRLS 



who read the Agriculturist, I hope you 

 are all trying to be good children. Little 

 boys, let me say to you, bo very careful 

 about tho habits you form. Do not use 

 bad words, do not swear, and above all 

 never learn to smoko or chew tobacco, 

 and some day you will feel thankful that 



these fetters do not bind you in slavery, i 

 I have a boy, taller now than his mother, J 

 and of whom I am proud. I will tell 

 you of the little contract we made, when 

 he was scarcely higher than my knee. 

 Willie promised that he would never use 

 bad words, never use tobacco, nor visit 

 saloons before his twenty-first birthday. 

 For these promises I gave him the jjretty 

 speckled hen and her brood of chicks, 

 the beautiful bay colt that trotted so 

 nicely, and then, if he kept his pledge 

 faithfully till the specified time, he was 

 to have other presents according as we 

 may make further agreement. This con- 

 tract is still standing firm. It has never 

 once, to my knowledge, been violated, 

 and I feel sure now that it will not be. 

 Perhaps some of the little boys who read 

 this would like to make such a contract. 

 I think it a very nice plan, for bad hab- 

 its are generally formed in youth. 



Sometime, if our kind Editor will 

 grant me space, and you wish me to, I 

 will tell you some funny little stories 

 that a mother's memory has treasured — 

 the wise saying of a sister and brother 

 that will make you laugh all over. I 

 think your little letters to Aunt Polly are 

 very nice, and I hope to see many of 

 them in the Agricultueist. 



the up-countet letters. 



And now, if my letter is not already 

 too long, I will say to my invalid friend 

 — Yes; there is one reader at least that 

 can "comprehend it all," that has "felt 

 and endured" the very same, that can 

 tell the same sad story. For twenty 

 years I have been a member of this "Or- 

 der of Wretchedness," submitting as 

 patiently as possible to its cruel laws. 

 Ah ! if we only knew before entering what 

 a gloomy place we should find, how care- 

 ful we would be to guard our footsteps! 

 But, alas! we venture on till we cross the 

 threshold, and tho door is shut; we find 

 no way of escape, and no rest for the 

 aching body. Separated from the happy 

 outside world, everything seems changed. 

 We cannot understand the unecjual laws 

 that govern our destiny. Not all the 

 guilty are doomed to enter — some escape 

 with impunity; others declare that in- 

 justice is done them — that the rod of 

 utUiction falls not in consequence of vio- 

 lated laws, nor through inherited sins. 



Are we, then, unfairly dealt with? 

 Does Mother Nature surround us with 

 mystery in order to hide her partiality? 

 Or does she grieve over our ignorance, 

 and lament over our short-sighted vision ? 

 To these perplexing questions comes 

 only the echo of a silent answer, too 

 faint to satisfy the anxious soul. How 

 much wiser to cease from worrying. 

 Why oppress ourselves about that which 

 wo can neither make ner mend? Why 

 be troubled about that which is beyond 

 our sphere, and which only tends to 

 lengthen the shadows that darken our 

 pathway? Bather let us trust in Provi- 

 dence, believing that an all-wise Creator 

 governs the universe. 



And now, kind Editor, I once more 

 crave your indulgence before concluding 

 my variety letter. "A Devoted Sub- 

 scriber" asks 



HOW TO WASH flannels 



without "shrinking, changing color, and 

 feeling sticky." Of course, some colors 

 are so poor that a simple wetting will 

 fade them; but aside from such excep- 

 tions, the first reiiuisite is ijood soap. 

 Never use any of tho cheap chemical 

 soap for flannels, but make a suds from 

 good soap, in quite hot water. Kub the 

 pieces to bo washed quickly and carefully 

 and wring them; then, in water equally 

 hot, rub them through a very light suds. 

 Two waters as usually sufficient to cleanse 

 them. Wring as dry as possible, and 



