California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



^uix^* 



The Flood of Vears. 



DY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



Mij^hty Hand, from an, exhaustless urn, 



Pours forth the never ending flood of 

 years 



Among the nations. How the rushing 

 waves 



Bear all before them! On their foremost 

 fdge, 



And thure alone, is Life; the Present thero 

 Tosses and foams and fills the air with roar 

 Of mingled noises. There are thoy who toil, 

 And they who strive, and they who feast, and 



they 

 Who hurry to and fro. The sturdy hind- 

 Woodman and delver with the spade — are there. 

 And busy artizan beside his beiuh. 

 And pallid student with his written roll, 

 A moment on the moimtiug biliinv seen — 

 The flood sweeps over them and they are gone. 

 There groups of revelers, whose brows are 



twined 

 With roses, ride the topmost swell awhile, 

 And as they raise their flowing cups to touch 

 The clinking brim to brim, are whirled beneath 

 The waves and disapi:)car. I hear the jar 

 Of beaten drums, and thuuders that break forth 

 From cannon, where the advancing billow sends 

 Up to the sight long files of armed men, 

 That hurry to the charge through flame and 



smoke. 

 The torrent bears them under, whelmed and hid. 

 Slayer and slain in heaps of bloody foam . 

 Down go the steed and rider: the plumed chief 

 Sinks with is followers; the head that wears 

 The imperial diadem goes down beside 

 The felon's with cropped ear and branded chcok. 

 A funeral train— the torrent sweeps away 

 Bearers and bier and mourners. By the bed 

 Of one who dies men gather sorrowing. 

 And women weep aloud: the flood rolls on; 

 The wail is stifled and the eobi) ug group 

 Borne under. Hark to that shrill sudden shout. 

 The cry of an applauding multitude 

 Swayed by some loud tougued orator who wields 

 The living mass as if he were its soul. 

 The waters choke the shout and all is still. 

 Lo, next a kneeling crowd and one who spreads 

 The hands in prayer; the engulfing wave o'er- 



takes 

 And swallows him and them. A sculptor wields 

 The chisel and the stricken marble grows 

 To beauty; at his easel, eager eyed, 

 A painter stands, the sunshine at his touch. 

 Gathers upon the canvas, and life glows; 

 A poet, as he paces to and fro. 

 Murmurs his sounding lines. Awhile they ride 

 The advancing billow, till its tossing crest 

 Strikes them and flings them under while their 



tasks 

 Are yet imfinished. See a mother smile 

 On her young babe that smiles to her again— 

 The torrent wrests it from her arms; she shrieks, 

 And weeps and midst her tears is carried down. 

 A beam like that of moonlif/ht turns the spray 

 To glistening pearls; two lovers, hand in hand, 

 itise on the billowy swell and fondly look 

 Into each other's eyes. The rushing flood 

 Flings them apart; the youth goes down; the 



maid, 

 With hands outstretched in vain and streaming 



eyes, 

 Waits for the next high wave to follow him. 

 An aged man succeeds; his bending form 

 Sinks slowly; mingling with the sullen stream 

 Gleam the white locks and then are seen no 

 more. 



Lo, wder grows the stream; a sea- like flood 

 Saps earth's walled cities; massive palaces 

 Crumble before it; fortresses and towers 

 Dissolve in the swift waters; populous realms 

 Swept by the torrent, see their ancient tribes 

 Engulfed and lost, their very languages 

 Stifled and never to be uttered more. 



A moment and then Bink away from Bight. 



I look, and the quick tears are in my eyes, 

 l'"iir I Ijehold, in every one of these, 

 A l)lighted hope, a separate history 

 Of human sorrow, telling of dear ties 

 Suddenly broken, dreams of happiness 

 Dissolved in air. and happy days, too brief, 

 Tliat sorrowfully ended, and I think 

 How painfully must the poor heart have beat 

 In bosoms without number, as the blow 

 Was struck that slew their hope or broke their 

 peace. 



Sadly I turn, and look before, where yet 

 The flood must pass, and I behold a mist 

 Where swam dissolving forms, the brood of 



Hope, 

 Divinely lair, that rest on banks of flowers 

 Or wander among rainbows, fading soon 

 And reappearing, haply giving place 

 To shapes of grisly aspect, such as Fear 

 Molds from the idle air; where serpents lift 

 The head to strike, and skeletons stretch forth 

 The bony arm in silence, l-'ur her on 

 A belt of darkncFB stems to bar the \va\v. 

 Long, low and distant, where the Life that Is 

 Touches the Life to Come. The Flood of Voars 

 Rolls toward it, nearer and near. It must pass 

 That dismal barrier. What is tluTM beyond? 

 Hear what the wise and good have siiid: Beyond 

 That belt of darkness still the years roll on 

 More gently, but with not less mighty sweep. 

 They gather u]) again and softly bear 

 All the sweet lives that late were o'crwhelmed 

 And lost to sight— all that in them was good. 

 Noble, and truly great and worthy of love— 

 The lives of infants and ingenuous youths. 

 Sages and saintly women who have made 

 Their households happy— all are raised and 



borne 

 By that great current in its onward sweep. 

 Wandering and rippling with nireesing waves 

 Around green isles, fragrant with the breath 

 Of flowers that never wither. So they pass. 

 From stage to stage along the shining course 

 Of that fair river broadening life a sea. 

 As its smooth eddies curl along their way, 

 'i hey bring old friends together; hands arc 



clasped 

 In joy unspeakable; the mother's arms 

 Again are folded round the child she loved 

 And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now. 

 Or but remembered to make sweet the hour 

 That overpays them; wounded hearts that bled 

 Or broke arc healed forever. In the room 

 of this grief-shadowed Present thero shall be 

 A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw 

 The heart, and never shall a tender tie 

 Be broken— in whose reign the t^ternal Change 

 Thiit waits on growth and action shall proceed 

 With everlasting Concord hand in hand. 



I pause and tixrn my eyes and. looking back, 

 Where that tumultuous flood has jjassed, I see 

 The silent Ocean of the Past, a waste 

 Of waters weltering over graves, its shores 

 Strewn with the wreck of fleets, where mast and 



hull 

 Drop away piecemeal! battlemented walls 

 Frown idly, green with moss, and temples stand 

 Unroofed, forsaken by the worshipers. 

 There lie memorial stones, whence time has 



gnawed 

 The graven legends, thrones of kings o'erturned. 

 The broken altars of forgotten gods, 

 Foundations of old cities and long streets 

 Where never fall of human foot is heajd 

 Upon the desolate pavement. I behold 

 Dim glimmerings of lost jewels far within 

 The sleeping waters, diamond, sardonyx, 

 Knby ;ind topaz, pearl and chrysolite, 

 Onci" glitt( ring at the banquet on fair brows 

 That hnv^ :it^i> were dust; and all aroxiud, 

 Strewn nn the waters of that silent sea. 

 Are wilht-Ting bridal wreaths, and glossy locks 

 Shorn from fair brows by loving hands, and 



scrolls 

 Overwritten — haply with fond words of love 

 And vows of friendship— and fair pages flung 

 Fresh from the printer's engine. Where they lie 



Kalf-UTay Doin's. 



UY UtWIN ItUSSELL. 



Ik'lubbL'rl fellow trabellers: lu liokleu' forth to- 



flav, 

 I docBn't quote no special verso for what I has to 



Bay. 

 Do Bcrinou will lie berry short, an' (lis here am 



de tex': 

 T3at half-way doin's ain't no 'count for dis worl 



or de uex'. 



Dib worl' dat wc's a libbiu' iu is like a cotton 



row. 

 Whar ebery culled gentleman has got his line to 



hoe; 

 And ebery time a lazy nigger stops to take his 



nap, 

 Do grass keeps on a growin' for to sm udder up 



his crap. 



When Moses led de Jews acrost de waters ob de 



sea, , 



Dcy had to keep a goin', jes as las as fas could 



be* 

 Do you s'pose dat dcy could obber hab succeeded 



in deir wish, . ., . 



And reached do Promised Laud at last, if dey 



had stopped to fish '.' 



My frien's, dar was a garden once whar Adam 



libbed wid Ebe, . 



Wid no one 'round to bodder dem. no neighbors 



for to thieve. 

 And ebery day was Christmas, and dey got deir 



rations free. 

 And eberyting belonged to dem except an apple 



'tree. 



No balf-way doiu'B. bredren! It'll nebberdo, I 



Go at your task an' finish it, an' den's do time to 



For ebon if de crap is good, de rain'll spile de 



bools. 

 Unless you keeps a pickin' in do garden of your 



souls. 



Keep a plowin', an' a hoein', an' a scrapln' ob de 



And when do ginnin's ober you can pay up what 



you owes; 

 Hut if you quits a workin' ebery time do sun is 



hot. ^ ., 



Ue BherifTs gwyne to lebby on eberyting you s 



got. 



Whatebor 'tis you's dribiu' at, be sure an' dribe 



it troo, . , i 



An' don't let nutlin' stop you, but do what you s 



gwyne to do; 

 For when you see a nigger foolin den, shore as 



you's born, ... ,, 



You'B gwyne to see him come out ob de small 



eend ob de horn. 



X thanks for de 'tontion you has gib dis after- 

 noon — . 



Sister Williams will oblige us by a raislu ob a 

 tune — 



I see dat Brudder Johnson's 'bout to pass aroun 

 de hat. 



And don't let's hab no half-way doin s when it 

 comes to dat. 



The Togy Parmer. 



A farmer lived in the Keystone State 



On a hundred acres of soil. 

 He labored early and labored lato. 



And his bauds were hard with toil, 

 lie didn't believe in progress much. 



And he thought t was very strange. 

 And said in his mind "it beats the Dutch" 



That farmers join the Grange. 



"For what's the use," said the fogy man, 



"As I often tell my wife. 

 Hard work is better than any plan 



To carry you through this life. 

 And a hundreil tons of phosphate, 



If you put it on the land. 

 Won't do the gnodiu this Keystone State 



You can do with a single hand." 



So he hardly took the time to dream. 



And he filled his eyes with dust. 

 And ho wouldn't thresh his grain by steam 



"For fear the thing would bust." 

 So his neighbor Jones his wheat had sold. 



In the nearest market town. 

 And turned his crop into solid gold. 



Before he bad his done. 



And this fogy man, when he came to sell 



In the quiet part of the fall, 

 Found the price of grain 'had fell," 



And got no price at all . 

 While Jones, the llranger, worked with brain 



And not alone with hand. 

 At the sheriffs sale, came down the lauc 



And bought the whole ot his land. 



But ho still thinks ignorance is bliss, 



And says it's just his fate. 

 .\nd never lays it all to this. 



That he would not educate. 

 "He wasn't born with a silver spoon." 



And he says 'tis thundering strange. 

 And he hangs around a beer saloon. 



But he hasn't joined the Grange. 



crawlin' on de 



You all know bout de story-how de snake come 



snoopin" 'roun' — 

 A stump-tail, rusty moccasin, a 



groun' — , , , , , , 



Uow Eve an' Adam eat de fruit, an went an hid 



■ deir face, , 



Till de angel oberseer he came an drove em ofl 



de place. 



Now, s'pose dat man an' 'ooman hadn't 'tempted 



for to shirk. 

 But had gone about der gardenin', and tended to 



deir work, 

 Dey wouldn't hab been loafln' whar dey had no 



business to. 

 And de debbil nebber'd got a chance to tell em 



what to do. 



louUvn hhxL 



Fraternity. 



MRS. R. w. UBAIS.UU>. 



The farmer plows and the farmer sows— 

 The heat on the blacksmith's anvil glows. 

 While under the weight of his brawny hand 

 The plow is forged tor t\\<: farmer's land. 

 Clasp hands! ye brothers in honest toil, 

 Yo sturdy sons of the mother soil! 



The farmer rcapeth the golden grain— 

 Theniiller wailoth thecre.sking wain 

 That brings his shnri- of the cou;mou toil, 

 Aud marks his rank with sous of the soii. 

 Clasp hands, yo brothers! a triple power 

 That gives the nalion a farmer's dower. 



The farmer clippcth the fleecy wool. 

 And plucks the bolls of cotton full. 

 The weaver bends to his noisy loom. 

 And piles the webs in the crowded room. 

 Clasp hands! ye brothers, in friendly zeal, 

 Yo hold, united, a nation's weal. 



Ho! farmer, gathering fruit and grain— 

 Ho! merchant, counting your loss and gain— 

 Ho! builder, modeling wood and stone — 

 Ho! sailor, reaching from zone to zone- 

 Clasp friendlv hands! for a common toil 

 Binds all mankind to the mother soil. 



—[Son of the Soil. 



An abundant harvest, and imploring 

 printer. 



A FEW HINTS ON POULTRY. 



C-}\0ULT11V keeping iu California is 

 '-{yl often attended with much vexatious 

 Jl•^■^ loss and trouble. During the suin- 

 (^Xl 'uer the henn get terribly lousy aud 

 2^-^ covered with fleas, if not carefully 

 attended to. Frequently they get dis- 

 eased aud die off strangely. 



On moat farms, where a few dozen 

 poultry are kept, the fowls have no spe- 

 cial houses or roosting places, but scat- 

 ter around upou scaffolds in the barn, 

 upon the partitions of horse stalls, upou 

 piles of rubbish, fences, branches of 

 trees, or wherever they can find a place 

 to perch. If they get diseiiscd or lousy 

 it is almost impossible to get at them, or 

 their roosting places to correct the evil. 

 In fact, they are kept as a sort of toler- 

 ated nuisance, aud are allowed to f hif t 

 mostly for themselves; are plentifully 

 fed when they can get it from the stack, 

 aud go hungry wheu they cannot find 

 enough to eat. If all circumstances hap- 

 pen to bo favorable, aud the fowls do 

 well— that is, lay well aud raise a lot of 

 nice chickens from uest stolen away — 

 why, well and good, chickens arc profit- 

 able to keep. But if, on the contrary, 

 as most frequently happens, they do not 

 lay well, only hatch out a few scattering 

 chickens, and get sick and die oft', why, 

 somebody has no luck with chickeus.aud 

 it don't pay to bother with them. 



Now, there is no eft'ect without a causi , 

 aud this simple admitted assertion will 

 as well apply to the chicken business as 

 as to auy other. There is a reason why 

 chickens get lousy, diseased, poor and 

 worthless on one place aud do finely on 

 auother. It is not alwoys iu the soil, 

 atmosphere, nor locality. It is certainly 

 owiug to favorable or adverse conditions. 

 Care aud proper treatment will obviate 

 any difficulty of location, but the most 

 favorable location will uot make all right 

 under iudiflerent circumstiinces. 



The experience of poultry raisers for 

 many years have proved some things, 

 and suflicient reliable data can be found 

 on which to predicate some sound ad- 

 vice. 



Chickens and other fowls should have 

 pure air to breathe. At night this can- 

 not be obtained iu a privy, pig-sty nor 

 closely over the filthy accumulated drop- 

 pings of months, under a shed. They 

 should not be exposed to the full ilrafl 

 of wiud aud to storms, but better this 

 than bad air. Their roosts should be 

 kept clear of vermin by frequent wash- 

 ing with kerosene, soap suds, tobacco, 

 aud lime wash, or something that will 

 destroy lice aud prevent a deposit of ver- 

 min eggs, on the roosts. A clean, open 

 house that can be kept clean is the best, 

 although evergreen trees make good 

 roosting places. The nest boxes should 

 be kept clean, aud be supplied with clean 

 straw, aud sprinkled with sulphur. 



.-\n open range is desirable when cou- 

 venient, but fowls may be kept in close 

 quarters if kept clean and allowed good 

 wallowiug dust beds. Clean, pure water 

 should be supplied in quantity for drink- 

 ing. 5Iuch depends upon this. Many 

 chickens get diseased upon impure 

 water. One cannot be too particular 

 about clean water for fowls. 



When it comes to feeding, a good deal 

 can be said. Above all, clean food 

 should be supplied, and foul, decaying 

 substances, of animal matter particularly, 

 should not be put within their reach. 

 Fowls are fond of meat, insects, etc., and 

 should have such food. ^Vheat is pro- 



