DEVOTED TO AGRICULTURE AND ITS KINDRED ARTS AND SCIENCES. 



VOL. IV. 



BOSTON, NOVEMBER, 1852. 



NO. 11 



RAYNOLDS & NOURSE, Proprietors. t „ t „ FRED'K HOLBROOK, > Asso( ,. TE 



n„ , „ r. ir SIMON BROWN, Editor. t .i?mi>v p muMPH r 



Office Quincy Hall. ' HENRY F. FRENCH.) Editors. 



THE! FARM IN NOVEMBER. 



"And, when November came, there fell 

 Another limning in, to tell 

 The month's employment ; which we see 

 Providence was, for time to be." 



Silently, stage after stage, the seasons roll along. 

 The full flush of summer has yielded its tribute to 

 our cares and passed away. The first stages of 

 autumn have come and touched with gentle hand 

 the grass of the field, the leaves of the trees, and 

 all that lately was so vigorous and gay. This 

 month closes the harvest of the farm, and is pecu- 

 liarly the season of ripeness. The grass, the grain, 

 the fruits and the Indian corn have been gathered, 

 but some of the vegetable productions capable of 

 resisting the frosts for a season still remain to be 

 collected. Nature gives forth her bounties ac- 

 cording to our wants, and at that period when it 

 becomes necessary to lay them up for future supply. 

 The inquiring mind will not fail to perceive that 

 the ripening of corn and of various fruits immedi- 

 ately precede the sterility of winter, that man may 

 hoard in his store-houses whatever is necessary 

 during the unproductive season, for his own sub- 

 sistence and that of the animals he domesticates 

 for his use. 



As the season advances, its character changes. 

 At first there is an exhilarating softness in the air; 

 the sky is bright and blue ; the flocks graze on the 

 hills, and cattle ruminate on the shaded wood- 

 lands. Then, here and there, a tree sheds its 

 leaves, disclosing the summer homes of the birds, 

 and we are glad to see how near they have been 

 to us. But towards the close of autumn a deeper 

 sentiment occupies the mind. Warmth and bright- 

 ness gradually diminish ; night slowly steals on 

 the day ; the atmosphere becomes chilled, and 

 leaves assume an endless variety of hues, thus pre 

 senting beauties even in their decay ; the pastures 

 have a darker hue, and the woods, although their 

 varied and harmonizing tints are inexpressibly 

 beautiful, speak also of decay ; and the sober still- 

 ness of an autumnal sky sheds a gentle sadness 



over the scene. Then follows blustering winds, 

 snow flakes, pinching frosts and pelting storms. 



The more pressing and active duties of the farm 

 are over for the year. Other duties there are, and 

 important ones, as there will ever be ; but as there 

 is a time for all things, so the farmer's season of 

 repose, of quiet reading and contemplation ap- 

 proaches, when he will gather around him the re- 

 corded wisdom of others, or, perchance, record his 

 own, or mingle in grateful leisure, in the ameni- 

 ties and kindly charities of life. 



Now the busy flail will be in full employment 

 and fill the air about the homestead with a pleas- 

 ant sound, and invite all the passers by to look m 

 at the great open barn doors ; while outside the 

 poultry scratch for food among the straw, and the 

 cattle ruminate beside the hay-rack, or lean with 

 inquiring faces over the gate. 



Some November days are devoted to felling the 

 timber and piling the wood, ready for the sled in 

 winter months. Others, to an examination of the- 

 cellar, throwing out the rubbish, and rendering 

 that depository clean and sweet, so that no un- 

 wholesome gases shall penetrate the rooms above. 



Drains will be examined and put in order, that 

 they shall carry off waste water when the Winter 

 King has set his seal upon the earth, and no skill 

 of the farmer can wrcseal it. 



Aqueducts must be repaired, that the winter's 

 supply of water shall not fail. Where a full, free 

 stream is flowing, there is less danger of its freez- 

 ing. 



Pumps put in order now and protected by boxes 

 filled with hay, tan, or wrapped in old woollens, 

 will work well when those neglected will fail to 

 help you fill the tea-kettle in a frosty morning ! 



Point, with mortar, about the underpining of 

 the house and barn. It is difficult to keep warm 

 rooms where the wind sweeps under any por- 

 tion of the house. It works its way up between 

 the ceilings, and makes double the fuel necessary 

 to secure a comfortable degree of warmth. 



