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NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Mat 



.*1 



Those blossoms, also, and those dropping gums, 

 That lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth, 

 Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease : 

 Meanwhile, as Nature wills, night bids us rest." 



lEve to Adam — 



"With thee conversing I forget all time ; 

 All seasons and their change, all please alike. 

 Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 

 AYith charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, ^ 

 When first en this delightful land he spreads 

 His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit and flower, 

 Glistering with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth 

 After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 

 Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night. 

 With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, 

 And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train : 

 But neither breath of morn, when she ascends 

 With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun 

 On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower. 

 Glistering with dew ; nor fragrance after showers ; 

 Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent night. 

 With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon. 

 Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet." 



Such are the scenes which yield a calm satis- 

 faction that is undying — that time, nor distance, 

 nor circumstances, can ever efface ; they make an 

 impression that outlives all the gratifications of 

 pomp, or power, or pecuniary gain, and nestle 

 and live in the heart when the applause of the 

 world falls cold and lifeless upon it. 



"What imagination is so fertile as to conjure up 

 a paradise, where there is neither tree, nor shrub, 

 nor flower, — where neither vegetable color nor 

 odor regale the senses, — where Flora and Pomo- 

 na are unknown goddesses, — where nought 

 meets the eye, but a boundless waste of sterilitj'. 



Sensibility to emotions of beauty and grandeur 

 and sublimity is innate in the human breast. 

 Amid the ever-shifting scenes which nature pre- 

 sents, objects are constantly occurring which 

 awaken these emotions and give a charm to life, 

 to which the shop, the counting-room, the studio, 

 the cloister and the forum are all strangers. 



The tiller of the soil is the true nobleman 

 He receives the bounties of Providence direct 

 from the hand of the Giver. He is daily conver- 

 sant with scenes of unsurpassed beauty and 

 grandeur, and unless more stupid than the ox 

 which he feeds and drives, must be constrained 

 to exclaim, in view of such displays of wisdom 

 and benevolence, "What a stupendous power and 

 boundless love does my Father possess who 

 made and gives them all !" 



Who, then, would not be a farmer ? "Why 

 should not he who is blessed in the possession of 

 a few prolific acres, cultivated with skill, and 

 yielding the staple articles of subsistence, be con- 

 tent therewith ? Why should farmers' sons be 

 so ready and anxious, even, to quit the home of 

 their youth and wander from all early associa- 

 tions, to become involved in the intricacies of 

 "trade," and lead a life of uncertain gain, and of 

 feverish disquietude ? Why should parents urre 



this course, as too many do, with the gloomy 

 fact before them, that less than five in one hun- 

 dred who engage in mercantile life succeed in 

 the business they have chosen? 



Man made the city, but God made the country. 

 Great cities are great sores upon the body poli- 

 tic ; and were it not for the sanitary influences 

 which flow in from the country, they would be- 

 come so greatly demoralized as to be extermina- 

 ted by their own corruption. Our country's hope, 

 like that of every other republic, is in her yeoman- 

 ry. To the rural districts, to the hard-handed, 

 clear-headed, high moral toned conservative cul- 

 tivators of the soil, patriotism must look for pro- 

 tection and the perpetuity of our free institu- 

 tions. 



Hail, then, lovely May, most inspiring of the 

 months. We have welcomed all the early har- 

 bingers of spring that dared to peep from their 

 sunny nooks in March ; they were few and shy 

 heralds, but were beautiful and breathing fra- 

 grance, and imparting joy while winter lingered 

 about them. April, too, has passed, watering 

 and refreshing the earth, so that May, with her 

 warm sun and fresh flowers, should be as strong 

 as it is lovely, in order to complete the work she 

 has to do. 



"Meadows fresh with Daisies trim. 



Shady banks with Harebell blue. 

 Groves where birds are carolhng, 



Towering Pines where Turtles coo." 



MASSON'S OIL FOB "WOUUDS, &C. 



I have long been in possession of a recipe for 

 the cure of corked hoofs and wounds on horses 



Take 2 ounces of rock salt ; 

 2 ounces of copperas ; 

 2 ounces of white vitriol ; 

 8 ounces of sale molasses ; 

 h. pint of linseed oil ; 

 1 pint of chamber lye. 



Pulverize and boil the above together fifteen min- 

 utes ; then add 4 ounces spirits of turpentine and 

 1 ounce of oil of vitriol, and bottle it up, and 

 when cold it is fit for use. Shake the bottle be- 

 fore using it. Bathe the wound once or twice a 

 day, and dry it in with a hot shovel. 



I have kept and used this liniment, which is 

 here known as "Masson's Oil," for the past ten 

 years, to a good account. — A. D. Brovm, in Coun- 

 try Qentleman. 



Soil Culture. — This is the title of a new 

 work by J. H. Walden, A. M., containing a 

 comprehensive view of Agriculture, Horticulture, 

 Pomology, Domestic Animals, Rural Economy 

 and Agricultural Literature. Illustrated by nu- 

 merous engravings. New York: B. F. Chap- 

 pell & Co. Persons cultivating the soil will find 

 this a useful book, full of useful suggestions, and 

 given in a brief and comprehensive manner. 



