14 



California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



f ogj? mul ©ivb. 



The Seed. 



The farmer planted a seed, 

 A little, dry, black seed; 



And ofl' he went to other work. 



For the farmer was never known to shirk, 

 And cared for what he had need. 



The Di*,'Ut came with its dew, 

 The eoul and silent dew; 



The dawn came and the day. 



And the farmer worked away 

 At labors not a few. 



Home from his work one day. 



One glowing summer day; 

 His children showed him a perfect flower. 

 It had burst its bloom that very hour. 



How, I cannot say. 



But I know if the smallest seed 



In tho soil of love be cast. 

 Both day and night will do their part. 

 And the sower who works with a trusting 

 heart 



Will find the flower at last. 



Xhe Farm and the City. 



An old farmhouse, with meadows wide, 

 And sweet with clover on each tide; 

 A bright-eyed boy, who looks from out 

 The door with woodbine wreathed about. 

 And wishes his one thought all day: 

 "Oh! if I could but fly away 



From this dull spot the world to see. 

 How happy, happy, happy. 

 How happj' 1 should be!" 



Amid the city's constant din, 

 A man who round the world has been, 

 Who 'mid the tumult and the throng, 

 Is thinking, thinking all day long; 

 "Oh! could I only trace once more 



The field path to the farmhouse door. 

 The old green meadow could I see. 

 How happy, happy, happy. 

 How happy should I be I" 



Our Baby. 



Do you see our baby, 

 Sitting in his chair? 



Many funny tricks 

 He plays when there. 



Darling little baby. 



Oh, so full of fun. 

 Very soon we hope 



That he'll begin to run. 



Now sister Eose and I 

 Must hold each tiny hand. 



For otir darling baby 

 Cannot safely stand. 



OUR CORNER. 



AUNT POLLY S NEW YEAK OEEETINO. 



..ANIIABY, the first 

 month, the usher in of 

 another New Year, is 

 here! It always brings 

 a Happy New Year's 

 greeting. How fortu 

 nate it is that the holi- 

 days come in luiJ-win- 

 ter, to dispel some of 

 the gloom that the 

 storms, winds and frost 

 of Winter always shad- 

 ow over the earth. How eheerful the 

 smiles are that accompany the gifts, and 

 merry words so freely given by friends 

 during the holidays. Annt Polly wishes 

 that every day iu the year was a holiday, 



so that only smiles, and good will, and 

 joyful words and looks, and happy faces, 

 could be seen at any time, and every- 

 where! How happy we should all be 

 then. Well, let us who belong to " Our 

 Corner" have a holiday all this new 

 year. We can make "Our Corner" a 

 happy place of meeting every month, 

 and e.xchange the gifts of letters and 

 puzzles and joyful words, and let only 

 the sunshine in to show how eheerful we 

 can be. Instead of letting the holidays 

 end with "A Happy New Year," let's 

 commence a year of holidays! 



Aunt Polly has lots of presents for all 

 of you, and means to give them to all 

 who write good letters, make good puz- 

 zles, and find out the good puzzles. 

 Won't we be jolly! So come on now, 

 every child that wants to be a cousin, 

 and see if your Aunt Polly is not as 

 goood as her word. Try your very best 

 to write nice letters for OuK Corneb, and 

 we will show the older folks that we can 

 make our part of the Agkicultueist bet- 

 ter than all the rest of it put together. 



"Our Corner" goes to press this month 

 before many letters come in. The Ed- 

 itor thinks it rather silly, any way, to 

 take up too much room with our letters, 

 but then, as "old fogy" as he is, he has 

 promised Auut Polly a liberal amount of 

 space for the present year, and we will 

 fill it, too, wont we? Now send a bushel 

 of letters for next month. Here are the 

 few we have on hand now : 



THAT BOY. 



I saw him on the street with a cigar 

 in his mouth, and reeling as if under 

 the influence of intoxicating drinks. 

 About ten years of age, with a bright 

 eye and good features, he is a bright lad 

 with very good capacities. "What an or- 

 nament to society, and what a comfort 

 to his parents when they shall begin to 

 travel the down-hill grade of life — what 

 possibilities are within his grasj)! 



His father and mother are church-go- 

 ing people in their habits, a blessing is 

 asked at the table, and they partake of 

 communion in the church once a month. 

 Of additional evidence of their piety I 

 am not informed. 



The conduct of their son would pain 

 them very deeply if they knew anything 

 of it; but they are in blissful ignorance 

 of his movements of evenings. They 

 know that he is out, but they never 

 dream of haunts of dissipation, of dens 

 of infamy, in which he may frequently 

 be found. Though he is yet in child- 

 hood's tender years, he is old in ini- 

 quity. Aye, he is able to give expres- 

 sion to language that should burn the 

 cheek of innocence to a blister. At 

 present I withhold his name from the 

 public. 



Mrs. L. Wbight. 



A GREEDY FROG. 



Dear Aunt Polly; — Your "Corner" 

 in the December number is indeed splen- 

 did — interesting as well as instructive to 

 us older ones. My neighbor, Mrs. Z, 

 told me such a funny frog story the oth- 

 er day that I am sure your neices and 

 nephews would all like to have a laugh 

 over it too. So I will tell it you, though 

 I wish they might have heard it in her 

 own language, as I did. Did you ever 

 hear that holding a frog in the hands 

 when one has the chills and fever, until 

 the chill stops, will insure a cure? Well, 

 several years ago, she sent one of her 

 two children some two miles in the 

 country for a frog, as her boy was sick 

 with chills. The child brought home 

 five little frogs, one medium-sized and 

 one big bull-frog, in the jiail. She set 

 the pail on the shelf in the kitchen un- 

 til the chill should come on next di\v. 

 About ton at night there was heard such 



a jumping and thumping among the 

 frogs iu the pail! She went to see what 

 was the matter; there sat Mr. Bullfrog 

 in the pail alone struggling with the 

 medium-sized frog half down his throat, 

 trying to make a meal olf him. She 

 called for help, and while one held Mr. 

 Bullfrog she pulled young Mr. Bullfrog 

 out; but the five littlo ones were gone 

 too far down to recover them! Mr. 

 Bullfrog had turned cannibal, and eaten 

 up a whole family at one meal. This is 

 a true story. What effect this glutton 

 had upon the chills next day we did not 

 learn. "Jewell." 



letter from natividad. 



Dear Aunt Polly; — Not having any- 

 thing to do, I thought I would drop you 

 a few lines. I will tell you how two of 

 our smart young men went out hunting 

 rabbits and little birds back of Nativi- 

 dad one day lately and got lost, They 

 hunted all day, and night was coming 

 on, and it was getting dark and foggy. 

 It got so dark that they got down on 

 their knees and prayed and bawled for- 

 evermore, and shot off their shotguns, 

 and hollered, and got the people of Na- 

 tividad "skeart," and Gen. H.'s cavalry 

 started after them, (it must have been 

 about 9 o'clock at night), and after the 

 cavalry came Capt. J. S., armed with 

 lanterns and cannons. Gen. H. got np 

 in the hills first with his cavalry, (as 

 the hills are only half a mile from town.) 

 Capt. S.'s First Regiment came up in 

 the rear, and the whole command made 

 a halt near by where they supposed the 

 hollowing and shouting came from, (as 

 the sounds were in a deep canyon.) The 

 smart young men saw the lanterns and 

 hollowed for mercy — and kept on shoot- 

 ing. Gen. H. turned his cannon loose 

 and shot in the air, and then they stop- 

 ped their hollering and shooting. Then 

 Gen. H., and Commander J. P. of the 

 same cavalry, went up to them and 

 made the smart young men surrender — 

 took them prisoners —brought them to 

 Natividad, and sent them home to their 

 respective parients. Gen. II. said that 

 he found C. B. with his hair tangled in 

 the brush, and his companion could not 

 loosen him. 



I send my love to all the cousins, and 

 also to Aunt Polly. I wish you all a 

 Happy New Y'ear. Aunt Polly, I have 

 got a pair of doves, the prettiest little 

 things you ever saw. 



I am only ten years old. How do 

 you like my writing? One of my friends 

 says she is going to write to you. 



Bettie. 



P. S. — Here is one verse of poetry 

 that a little boy taught me to say to my 

 little dog: 



I had a little dog. 



His name is Nebudcauneezer; 

 Vou'd stick a feather in his nose. 



And he'd be sure to sneezer. 



Good bye. 



B. 



Aunt Polly thanks Betty for her funny 

 letter, but requests her to be sure and 

 not make personal allusions that will 

 hurt any one's feelings. It is easy to 

 cast ridicule upon anyone. But there is 

 nothing meaner than to injure others. 

 We trust our Betty is innocent of such 

 iuteutious. 



ANOTHER letter FROM NiTITIDAD. 



Dear Acnt Polly; — We could not let 

 this day pass without writing you a few 

 lines, as we see that you are publishing 

 letters from the little folks. We are not 

 very smart, as you may think, but I 

 guess we can write just as good a letter 

 as anybody. We ain't got much news 

 to tell you, only that we are not going 

 to have a Christmas tree here in Nativi- 

 dad. The folks here are getting too 

 high-toned, and some are going to Sali- 



nas, Gonzales and Santa Rita to enjoy 

 the Christmas trees and trip the light 

 fantastic toe (as school teachers say), 

 and, for our part, we are going hunting 

 goosos to eat New Years. We asked 

 Uncle George to come and eat with us, 



but he said that Miss asked him to 



go and dine at her dinner party. She 

 was too stingy to ask us to go ; but we 

 will get even — we won't ask her to come 

 to our dinner [ arty New Years. 



OcK & Chub. 



OCR POETRY. 



We had a little dog, his name was Clover, 

 Fell in the slop-pail, and died all over. 

 We had a little pig, his name was Jim Brown, 

 Turned a double somerset and broke his crown. 



Aunt Polly thanks O. and C. for their 

 spicy letter, but has had to cut out some 

 of it as a little too rough. Please try to 

 be funny without being rude. There is 

 plenty of room for jolity in this world 

 we live in without being a bit uncouth. 

 Aunt Polly enjoys fun and frolic, but no 

 real good person can admire or enjoy 

 that which is not refined in principle. 



yetta's poems. 

 Here are two more of Yetta's first po- 

 ems. Remember, Yetta is only 10 years 

 old, and is going to write better and bet- 

 ter till she can make a nice book of pfl- 

 ems, with blue cover and gold edges. 



Mi' NELLIE IS DEAD. 



My darling, my little Nellie, 

 Has just been laid beneath the earth; 



When again I visit the homestead. 

 No face will greet me by the hearth. 



When little playmates together. 

 We often played upon the green, 



She promised me when older. 

 To be my pretty little queen. 



But alas, my darling Nellie, 

 Will never, never be my bride. 



And when my time for death comes, 

 111 ask to be laid by her side. 



There was sorrow in the household. 

 When my jjoor darling Nellie died. 



Her father and mother were anxious 

 For her to live to be my bride. 



TO MY BaoTHEB WHO HAS COME BACK. 



Brother, since you came back. 



How happy we all feel. 

 To have our brother beside us 



When in prayer we kneel. 



Dear brother, how sad you made us. 

 When you fled from your parental wing, 



I know you sought for employment, 

 And to merit the honor of a king. 



But many years must elapse, dear, 

 Before you will find such honor, 



But while you are young be content 

 At your father's store on the corner. 



To grow up good and honest 

 Is better than all king's wealth; 



I hope you'll have a happy life. 

 And with it childhood's health. 



LETTER FROM SALINAS. 



Dear Aunt Polly: — This is the second 

 time I have written to you. The last 

 time I wrote a short letter; this time I 

 will try to do better. It is now drawing 

 near Christmas. My little sisters and 

 lirother and I expect to have a good 

 time. I hope you will enjoy Christmas 

 and have a good time, too. Dear Aunt 

 Polly, I hope you are getting stronger 

 now. The last time I wrote to you, you 

 were sick. I enjoy to sit and read the 

 "Cornfer, " when the Aqriculturist 

 comes. I am going to send fiO cents to 

 get the chromo called "The Refreshing 

 Surprise." Don't forget our address, 

 Salinas City, Monterey Co., California. 

 Aunt Polly, I cannot think of anything 

 more to say in this letter. I will try to 

 do better next time. I am still ten yt'ai'S 

 old. I hope I will see this letter printed 

 iu the .\oRictiLTnEisT. I have blotted 

 this letter very much, but I guess you 

 can read it. Please excuse the blots. 

 Mamma has lots of turkt>ys and I guess 

 wo will have one for Christmas. Mv 



