1856. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



507 



For the New England Farmer. 



DEPAETUES OF THE SWALLOWS. 



There is an old-fashioned barn ujjon the farm 

 where I reside, which is the favorite resort of nu- 

 merous swallows. As special provision has been 

 made for their entrance into the barn, and as they 

 are never disturbed in their domestic felicities, from 

 seventy-five to a hundred young swallows are 

 hatched and reared every year, beneath its friendly 

 roof. 



Towards the middle of August these swallows, 

 old and young, began to hold conventions, (musi- 

 cal, not political,) in various localities about the 

 I^remises. Sometimes they would gather upon the 

 top of the barn, or house, or some of the out-build- 

 ings ; sometimes upon the dead limb of a tree, or 

 upon a fence, or the tops of the beautiful Indian 

 corn. But wherever their place of meeting chanced 

 to be, the air around was filled with their lively 

 music. 



On Sunday evening, August 24, just before dark, 

 they held a grand "mass meeting," upon the top 

 of the old barn, and since then, they have not been 

 seen. They probably commenced their journey 

 southward, early on Monday morning, August 25. 

 Two pairs, with seven or eight young ones, — which, 

 doubtless, had not, at the time, sufficient strength 

 of wing for a "trip to the tropics," — remained un- 

 til September 3d, when they also departed for 

 "the sunny South." So the swallows have again 

 left us ; and with them nearly all the feathered 

 songsters which have cheered our hearts with their 

 sweet music, during the long, bright, summer days. 



Another summer, with its lovely flowers, its fresh 

 green leaves, its myriads of gay insects, its dewy 

 mornings and balmy evenings, has also departed. 

 The voices of autumn can already be heard, and 

 its scenes meet our gaze ; the chirping of the crick- 

 et, the sound of the near or distant flail, the sigh- 

 ing of the wind through the fading, withering 

 leaves, the ripening corn and fruit, the red, yellow, 

 and purple tints upon the maples in the lonely 

 swamp. Sad Autumn will soon glide away into the 

 "unrelenting past," leaving stern winter, with its 

 howling winds and drifting snows, in the undisput- 

 ed possession of the once beautiful fields and 

 groves. 



Although we know that with another summer 

 they will all return, yet we cannot suppress a feel- 

 ing of sadness as we witness these successive de- 

 partures of the fair and beautiful things of earth. 

 But we need not feel sad, for if our hearts are true 

 and brave, we shall find that every season has its 

 charms ; and we know that when the time comes 

 for our departure, if obedient children of the Most 

 High, we too, like the birds, shall pass to a more 

 genial clime, but not like them, to return. 



SWALLOWS BUILDING THEIR NESTS IN TREES. 



During the present summer, a pair of swallows, 

 with white breasts and black, shiny backs, built 

 their nest in the dead linab of a tree which stands 

 near my house. They took possession of a hole 

 which was once occupied by the "chick- a-dees." 

 They came somewhat later than the barn swallows, 

 and departed much sooner. Their wing and tail 

 feathers were I'ather shorter than those of the barn 

 swallow, which made them appear smaller when 

 flying. So iar as I had an opportunity of observ- 

 ing, I could see no difference between the male and 



female, either in size or color. Their notes were 

 few and plaintive. 



As I have no work on ornithology at hand just 

 now, I should be obliged to Mr. Fowler, or Mr. 

 Wetherell, or any one who knows, if they would say 

 (if, from my description they are able thus to do) 

 what class of swallows these birds belong to, and 

 whether they usually build their nests in trees. 



Groton, Sept. 6, 1856. S. L. White. 



For the New England Farmer. 



TOO MANY SHADE TEEES. 



BY HEXRY F. FRENCH. 



In some old school-book there is a story of one 

 of the early settlers, whose wife and several small 

 children were attacked by Indians, in their field a 

 short distance from his log house. Hearing their 

 cry, he mounted his horse, and rode to protect 

 them, but, seeing the overwhelming number of the 

 savages, he at first gave up the idea of a contest, in 

 despair, and determined to snatch up the one of his 

 family most dear to him, and escape to his well-for- 

 tified cabin. 



He rode up to his little flock, who crowded 

 around him for protection. And now, which should 

 he select, and leave the rest to the merciless sav- 

 ages ? He glanced at their pleading, upturned 

 faces, and he could not choose. He resolved to 

 die with them all together, and turning upon the 

 cowardly foe, he attacked them with such fury, 

 riding back and forth across their path, and threat- 

 ening first one and then another, with his deadly 

 rifle, that they were kept at bay, till his family all 

 reached their home in safety. 



We have looked forward from youth to a home 

 of our own. We have planned and re-planned our 

 house, and in our minds, again and again laid out 

 our walks, and groves, and gardens. Presently, 

 our wishes are realized, and we have, through much 

 tribulation, it may be, much embarrassment of 

 means, and the vexations and disappointments in- 

 cident to all that is human, actually builded our 

 house, and laid out our grounds, and to end at once 

 and forever, the reign of barrenness which was 

 over our land, when we bought it, we have planted 

 small trees, and shrubs and hedges, and with the 

 help of imagination to aid their growth, we see at 

 length, our ideal become the actual. We knew at 

 the outset, that sunlight is essential to health, that 

 the distant, beautiful view of mountain, or river, or 

 meadow, or waterfall, is worth more than gilded 

 pictures of them that hang upon the parlor wall. — 

 We knew that the grace and true grandeur of the 

 noble forest tree, result from its breadth and ful- 

 ness of outline, which it can attain only as man at- 

 tains his true nobility, with freedom and space to 

 develop the natural capacity for greatness. We ad- 

 mired the beautiful smooth lawn about our dwell- 

 ing, and every spring, the grass seemed greener 



