436 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Sept. 



good will. Having satisfied their wants, they rest 

 a few moments, and then, Come, boys, we've no 

 time to lose. So the boys yoke up the oxen, and 

 take the cart with the rakes, and return to the field. 

 The fother is there before them, raking the cocks 

 of hay, which have been sjiread into tumbles, that 

 they may be ready to load upon the cart. Soon 

 they are all ready ; and now the oldest boy gets 

 into the cart, and the youngest takes the rake, and 

 the father pitches the hay on to the load. It is 

 busy work. You must rake clean, my boy. Fly 

 around, fly around, make clean work after the cart 

 if you would not be called a sloven. We have 

 now got on twenty tumbles ; that is enough, we 

 ■will take the rest next time. Now let me take the 

 rake, and brush down the load. There, that will 

 do. Now j)ut up the bars, after I drive the load 

 out of the field. 



And now we've got to the barn, and driven the 

 load on to the floor; and, boys, we will have a 

 drink of that nice hop beer which mother brewed 

 yesterday, before ws unload. This unloading hay 

 is warm work, in a hot day. It will make the juice 

 run out of a man or boy, if he has got any in him; 

 but it must be done. So, boys, both go on to the 

 mow. Well, the hay is off in less time than it 

 took to put it on ; and now for another drink of 

 beer. Now for the other load. This is soon tum- 

 bled up, and pitched on to the cart. The oldest 

 boy is now sent up to the barn with the load, with 

 directions to leave it on the floor, and unyoke the 

 oxen and leave them in the yard, and return to the 

 field. They now set to work to rake up the hay 

 that was cut in the morning, and put it into cocks 

 to keep it from the dew. This work they diligent- 

 !}• pursue, till the cocks are all standing in rows, 

 of uniform size, and neatly trimmed. And now 

 the fiither takes down the scythe, and, as the sun 

 is declining, and the dew begins to fall, and a 

 refreshing coolness pervades the air, he gives full 

 play to his muscles, and swings his scythe with a 

 vigorous arm. It is newly-ground, and the edge is 

 keen. He reaches well forward, and rapidly falls 

 the grass before him. 



One of the boys drives the oxen to the pasture, 

 and drives home the cows, with full udders, the 

 mi.k streaming from their teats. The other boy 

 goes into the garden with his basket, and digs 

 a peck of potatoes, and gathers a parcel of cucum- 

 bers from the vines. When the cows reach their 

 yard, the boys take the bright pails from the bench 

 by the door, and engage in their evening task of 

 milking them. The milli runs in copious streams, 

 and the rich froth foams up in the pails, while the 

 cows, happy to be relieved, quietly chew the cud. 

 And now the sun is going down behind the hill, 

 and the dewy air is filled with fragrance. The 

 swallows are twittering in their nests under the 

 eaves of the barn, and the chickens are gathering 

 to their roosts. The pigs are grunting their satis- 

 faction over the full pail of skimmed milk in the 

 trough, and the turkeys are lazily mounting to 

 their resting-place on the roof of the shed. 



The day's work is done. Father has come from 

 the meadow, and goes to the pump, and laying 

 aside his hat, and rolling up his shirt sleeves, ap- 

 plies freely the clear, cold water to his arms, and 

 head, and neck, and feet. The boys had washed 

 up bright and clean before him. Supper is ready, 

 and mother is waiting for them, with a cheerful 

 smile. The hot biscuit, the sweet butter, the rich 



cheese, the apple-pie, the cup of tea or the mug of 

 warm milk, compose the meah They deliberately 

 satisfy their a])petites, and talk over the labor of 

 the day, and the plans for to-morrow. And now, 

 boys, I think you are tired enough to go to bed. 

 Remember, you must be u]) early m the morning, 

 and milk the cows, and pitch off that load of hay 

 before breakfast. There is no time to be lost. 



There, Mr, Editor, there is a day's work in hay- 

 time, when you and I were boys on the old flirm at 

 home. Does it not remind you of the good old 

 times, before mowing-machines and horse-rakes 

 were invented ? Those were busy days. We ex- 

 pected to work hard while they lasted. We had not 

 heard of the ten hour system then. Bo*^^^ rraster 

 and hired man expected to work as long as daylight 

 lasted. Work was done in those days by strong 

 arms and brave hearts ; and nobody thought of 

 giving out till the hay from the upland was all in 

 the barn, and the hay from the meadow was neatly 

 stacked. We worked hard, to be sure, but it was 

 cheerful, pleasant work. Does not your heart leap 

 with pleasure when you think of those times ? We 

 were full of life, and ambitious to show ourselves 

 men. If we did not take so wide a raking as the 

 men, we took care to keep out of their way. We 

 did not carry so wide a swath, but we pointed out 

 well, and cut clean, and took good care of our 

 heels, I remember the first scythe I ever had, I 

 was about 16, and as puny a lad as you would wish 

 to see. But I wanted a scythe. So I walked four 

 miles to a store where they had a good assortment 

 of them, and picked out one that I liked. It was 

 but about three feet long, and I got a light snath 

 to go with it, and then went to a grindstone that 

 was turned by water, and got it ground. I then 

 had it nicely hung, so that it balanced just right, 

 and got me a new rifle that exactly fitted my hand, 

 and then I was a man, every inch of me. I had 

 learned liow to whet a scythe, and I took especial 

 care to keep it sharp. I soon got a knack of 

 swinging it easih', without a great outlay of strength, 

 for this I had not, so I made up for want of strength 

 by sleight of hand. 



Many a bright morning have I gone into 'he field, 

 and led off three or four men, with long scythes 

 and brawny arms, and if my swath was but half as 

 wide as theirs, I always came out ahead. And 

 here let me say, if you would make a lioy love his 

 work, always furnish him with a good tool, which 

 he can call his own, and teach him how to use it. 



I love to think of those old times. It makes me 

 feel young again, I love to think of the men and 

 boys with whom I worked, and of the fields, where 

 we worked, and the maples by the border of the 

 meadow, and the old oak under whose shadow we 

 used to take our luncheon. They were busy times, 

 but happy times, those old hay times. R. 



Hydropathy Applied to Swarming Bees. — 

 Dr. Robinson, of Farmington, N. Y., informs us 

 that he succeeded perfectly with a hive of bees that 

 persisted in collecting in thick masses outside the 

 hive and doing nothing. He bored a hole through 

 the top, which happened, as he wished, to strike the 

 space between the combs. He then fitted a small 

 hive above the old one, and standing at a respect- 

 ful distance, with a syringe in his hands, continued 

 to shoot the bees with a delicate broadside of cold 

 water. They soon retreated to the interior, and as- 



