68 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Feb. 



flood, we prize. The wealth we gather out of 

 rough hills and barren swamps, we are not likely 

 to squander ; the knowledge we acquire in our 

 intervals of physical labor, we value. 



With regard to reading and writing we would 

 remark, for the benefit of our younger readers, 

 that, a great deal is lost by loant of system. The 

 one, two or three leisure hours of each day, ■ 

 which are, perhaps, spent in reading miscellane- 

 ous, if not trifling matter, would suffice in one 

 year to lay a good foundation for the knowledge 

 of almost any language. Think of that, or if 

 inclination or expediency do not point in that di- 

 rection, a course of history or biography select- 

 ed with some regard to the nation, era, or char- 

 acter of the hero, will be of much greater use 

 than amass of indiscriminate, unconnected read-! 

 ing. Not that we would condemn light reading 

 entirely — it is useful in its way — but let it be, 

 the dessert, and not the main dish. If summer 

 is the seed-time of the physical world, winter is 

 our intellectual seed-time. Let us use it to gar- 

 ner up treasures for our future. 



Whatever may be said of other lands and oth- 

 er climates, we cannot aff"ord to lose our winters 

 and especially our winter evenings. Of these we 

 have spoken before, but they form too character- 

 istic and important a feature of New England 

 life to be forgotten or passed over. 



The gathered household — the fireside circle — 

 of how many plans, and hopes, and wishes, is it 

 the centre ! AVho can compute its influence upon 

 the national character ? 



"From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 

 That makes her lov'd at home, revered abroad ; 



Princes and lords are but the breath of kin-is — 

 Au honest man's the noblest work of God." 



But winter has other pleasures peculiar to it- 

 self, beside those of the Home circle. There are 

 social gatherings, lyceums, concerts, and last, 

 but not least, in the opinion of the young people, 

 sleigh-7 ides, — though some confess to an invol- 

 untary shiver, a sort of "Arctic Expedition" sen- 

 sation, at the bare mention of such a thing ! But 

 such persons must have been among those who 

 went a sleigh-riding, and found "Love's Labor 

 Lost." It ought to kindle one's blood into a 

 delightful glow, even to think of an old-fashioned 

 sleigh-ride. With the roads glassy, the ther- 

 mometer a little above zero, a pair of spanking 

 steeds, plenty of buff"alo robes, and three humans 

 on a seat, the hero in the middle, who would care 

 for Old Boreas, even if he came with all the 

 Arctic Regions on his back ! 



We suppose it was in a milder climate than 

 ours, that the old song was written, — 



" 'Twas on the Eve of Valentine, 

 When birds bepin to mate," 



for, as those who have not outlived their romance 

 will remember, Saint Valentine's day comes on 

 the 14th of February, when few birds besides the 

 adventurous snow-birds are to be seen in our 

 region, and they, like many of their betters, must 

 be too much engaged "in getting a living," to 

 think of matters of love. 



For the farmer, February is not, comparative- 

 ly, a busy month. He stops to take breath, as 

 it were, before the time for breaking up the earth, 

 and preparing for Spring's work, comes on 

 again. If a systematic farmer, he lays his plans 

 for that work, and has it, as it were a map, con- 

 stantly before him, so that he knows just at what 

 point to strike to press forward his business to 

 the best advantage. He, also, grows lusty and 

 strong on the leisure he has enjoyed, and on the 

 mental aliment which he has stored up. For 

 such an one the earth unlocks the treasures of 

 her bosom, and welcomes him to the banquet. 



Winter affords grand themes for the poet, and 

 and if they are not so gentle and soothing as 

 those of spring or summer, they have a grandeur 

 and sublimity, equally as indispensable in the 

 passage of the seasons. And as the poet opened 

 our pleasant discourse with the reader on this 

 February topic, so roay he grace its close. 



The Ice-King loves no music save his own, 

 Thf.t, like an organ's deep and solemn tone. 

 Swells where the midnight tempest wildly sweeps 

 Through leafless forests and o'er craggy steeps. 

 And voiceless is my harp ; or if its tone 

 Should mingle with the winds a plaintive moan, 

 'lis not my hand the tuneful change that rings. 

 Nor mine the voice that to its musij sings — 

 'lis but the wind that sweeps its sounding strings. 



George BLANcn.\Ri>. 



■WALKING AS AST EXERCISE. 



It is well understood that the general health 

 of cities is due to the custom of constant walk- 

 ing, which prevails among the residents of crowd- 

 ed towns. This compensates for the want of fresh 

 and free air. It is certain that city ladies walk 

 much more than their country friends. The lat- 

 ter, when they can command a horse, think a 

 mile's walk a great undertaking. Ladies in the 

 country hesitate about venturing abroad on foot ; 

 and they remain within doors, or in quiet inac- 

 tion, while the city dames, who are presumed to 

 be "delicate," and unable to endure fatigue, walk 

 miles over the pavements, without thinking of 

 the exertion. Visitors to the city from the coun- 

 try are worn out by a day's "shopping," while 

 their city guides are apparently as fresh at the 

 close as in the beginning of the day's work. 



Walking is the most natural, useful and thor- 

 ough exercise that can be taken. Infantry, in 

 an army, can outmarch the mounted men. A 

 proof of the superioi-ity of the biped over the 

 quadruped, is given in the result of a recent wa- 

 ger. A man undertook to walk from New York 

 to Cincinnati in eighteen days, and accomplished 

 the task, with nine hours to spare. The person 



