498 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



When we think of the place which he occupied 

 in the h< arts of his countrymen and contempora- 

 ries — of the expanding interest which he has awa- 

 kened in the rural arts, the refinements and com- 

 forts of society — of his unfinished plans, which 

 others, inspired hy his genius, will unfold and 

 consummate — and of his works, which will he ad- 

 mired when the tongues that now praise him shall 

 be silent in death, our sense of justice accords to 

 him an early immortality — a fame which history 

 will cherish, art adorn, and grateful posterity re- 

 vere. 



He is dead, yet how little of such men can per- 

 ish! The clayey tenement may indeed fall and 

 crumhle, but to him who dwelt in it, a place is 

 assigned in the firmament of American genius, far 

 above the storms and convulsions of earth — "in 

 that clear upper sky," where he shall shine for- 

 ever to illumine the path of intelligence, enter- 

 prise and virtue, and henceforth to enkindle in the 

 human mind a love of order, taste and beauty 

 We rank him with those who start improvements 

 which advance ages after they are dead, and who 

 are justly entitled to the consideration and grati- 

 tude of mankind. Washington and his illustrious 

 associates are dead ; but the liberty which they 

 achieved still lives, and marches in triumph and 

 glory through the earth. Franklin is dead ; but 

 the !-park which his miraculous wand drew from 

 heaven, speaks with tongues of fire and electrifies 

 the globe. Fulton is dead; but he awoke the 

 spirit of invention which turns the machinery of 

 man — aye, and he awoke also the genius of navi- 

 gation. 



"And heaven inspired, 

 To love of useful glory roused mankind, 

 And in unbounded commerce mixed the world." 



Downing also is dead ; but the principles of 

 artistic propriety and ornament, of rural economy 

 and domestic comfort, which he revealed, await a 

 more full and perfect development ; and as they 

 advance towards their glorious consummation, 

 grateful millions shall honor and cherish his name. 

 His memory shall live forever. 



For the New England Farmer. 



AUTUMN, MORAL REFLECTIONS. 



Mr. Brown : — The decaying leaves of autumn, 

 fading memorials of the instability of human friend- 

 ships and the perishable nature of all terrestrial 

 things, lie scattered at our feet in all their dying 

 splendor. They speak to us in a voice and Ian 

 guage which we cannot misunderstand or misin 

 terpret, of our own dissolution and of the time 

 when we shall be garnered up in the house ap- 

 pointed for all living. Though there is a melan- 

 choly sadness in the waning year, still it is min- 

 gled with gladness. This is the season of all oth- 

 ers which has animated the muse of the poet, and 

 attuned his soul to the symphonies and beauties 

 of creation. While to the lover of nature, she is 

 at all times a living embodiment of the soul of 

 Poetry, at this delightful season of the year, she 

 unfolds her ample volume to his admiring gaze, 

 and c< impels him to read her instructions. Wil 

 liner, or unwilling, we are forced to moralize. The 

 mild and chastened beams of an October sun 

 spread a golden radiance over hill-top and valley. 

 The forests are decking themselves in all the gor- 

 geous colors of the rainbow, as if preparing for a 



general holiday. This is the season for the hun- 

 ter. He takes his gun and hies him away to the 

 old woods where the tall chestnut grows, to seek 

 the squirrel among the boughs. This is the sea- 

 son, too, for pumpkin pies and mirthful festivity. 

 Aye, commend me to the thorough bred Yankee 

 girl who has been initiated into the mysteries of 

 this branch of domestic economy, for a wife. Her 

 with the ruddy cheek and sparkling eye, the cheer- 

 ful farmer's daughter. 



She docs not consider herself disgraced, by tak- 

 ing sufficient physical exercise, to preserve her 

 health and vigor. By the way, what an error do 

 those parents commit, who educate their children 

 in such a manner, as to lead them to consider ev- 

 ery species of useful employment as below their 

 dignity. Not such, indeed, were our grandams of 

 yore, when men were heroes and women were pa- 

 triots. They did not faint at the sight of a wash- 

 tub, nor go into hysterics because they had their 

 husbands' feeting to'mend. Even Lady Washing- 

 ton herself, the noble and intellectual companion 

 of the Father of his Country, did not hesitate 

 about knitting her own stockings. 



The harvest will soon be gathered in, and the 

 husbandman will have leisure to review the labors 

 of the season and prepare for the rigors of the 

 approaching winter. Soon the wintry winds of 

 November will chant their melancholy dirge around 

 our dwellings as an interlude to the coronation of 

 the winter king. The lovely queen of autumn 

 must soon resign her sceptre to the stern mon- 

 arch of winter. Though at his approach, the hand 

 of death seems to strike all animated existence, 

 it kindles the fires of the domestic hearth, and 

 draws into closer communion the members of the 

 family circle. 



With what delightful anticipations did we, when 

 a boy, look forward to the close of the season's la- 

 bors, and contemplate the time when we should 

 again gather around the old school-house, and re- 

 new our acquaintance Avith books and friends. The 

 old red school-house (the scene of so many pleas- 

 ing recollections of our boyhood,) one of those in- 

 teresting relics of times gone by, made doubly in- 

 teresting from the fact that like the recently dis- 

 covered monuments of the Assyrians, they are 

 overlaid with certain elaborate carvings, (the pro- 

 ducts of genius no doubt,) but which might puz- 

 zle the genius of Capt. Rawlinson, even, to deci- 

 pher, and also from the circumstance that within 

 this unpretending edifice, in spite of pedagogic 

 frowns, the incipient stage of many interesting 

 courtships which resulted in happy marriages, was 

 begun. But the season of youth has flown, and 

 the stern realities of life are before us. t. d. w. 



Acton Centre, Oct. 1. 



Medicine. — The best medicine in the world for 

 most complaints is abstinence. Upon the first 

 symptoms of disease stop eating and drinking, kiss 

 your wife and children, take a pleasant book and 

 remain quiet. If you have no wife and children, 

 put your feet into a pair of soft slippers, make a 

 good fire and take an easy chair by it, and dream 

 of them in prospective. You have no idea how like 

 a charm this prescription will work, until you try 

 it — and it isn't all in the "doctor books," either, 

 good as it is 



