498 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Nov. 



For the New England Farmer. 

 "BUR All LIFE." 



Matter of astonishment as it may seem, the 

 ^'Atlantic MonMij" that compendium of elegant 

 literature, has reached the "farmer's home," and 

 there its occupants, who, in the language of one 

 of its contributors, "contemn beauty and those 

 who love it, and glory, above all things, in brute 

 strength and brute endurance," have read its 

 dainty pages. And what then ? Why, nothing, 

 — farther than that one of the "drudges," so called 

 by the writer of the article entitled, "Rural Life 

 in New England," dares to consider for a mo- 

 ment, whether the article is a correct and just 

 picture of farmers' homes, generally, as they are 

 found in New England, or a gross misrepresen- 

 tation. 



We cannot rid ourselves of the impression that 

 as our youthful associations are more deep and 

 permanent than those of mature years, the writer 

 of that article must have passed his early "years 

 in one of those disgusting heathenish homes" he 

 describes, and then and there, the impressions he 

 received must have, "like the red letters on our 

 bank bills, struck through." Else, which we can 

 hardly believe to be the case, the writer may be 

 a worn and weary pilgrim of generations long 

 past, who, enfeebled by age, sits in one of the 

 "square-brown-one-chimneyed houses," ignorant 

 of the passing time ; no great-grandchild near, 

 for disposition never could bo soured, as we im- 

 agine his to be, if the soft fingers of childhood 

 were resting in his hard palm, or the velvet kiss 

 felt on his wrinkled cheek. 



But we will let the writer pass, and just look 

 at one or two parts of his picture, as it hangs be- 

 fore us. In describing the "fai-mer's home," the 

 writer evidently intends the description to be ta- 

 ken as a general truth, for he speaks of "happy 

 exceptions." That his "outline of the farmer's 

 home generally" is a false representation, and 

 that the "happy exceptions" he refers to are the 

 only just pictures of farmers' homes in New Eng- 

 land, generally, we believe. 



Leaving the external description of the farm- 

 ers' home for the "other side" to defend, we will 

 proceed to the inside. Li passing, we will only 

 say to those who were so unfortunate as to have 

 "first seen the light," in one of the "square,brown, 

 one-chimneyed houses," and many such there 

 are, in our own and foreign lands — men whom 

 the nations have delighted to honor — we say to 

 them, blot out all pleasant memories of child- 

 hood, come back, come and purify the unsightly 

 things which your ignorant grandsires of a cen- 

 tury ago erected ; purify them, with fire, if need 

 be, lest your fair fame be tarnished when it is 

 said of you, "Born in a square, brown, one-chim- 

 neyed house !" Here is the description ; have 

 ready, dear reader, your supply of Frangipanni, 

 or any favorite i)erfume. 



"We enter the house at the back door ;" 

 (you've no business going in at the back door, it 

 shows your ill-breeding,) "and find the family at 

 dinner in the kitchen. A kettle of soap-grease is 

 stewing upon the stove, and the fumes of this, 

 mingled with those that are generated by boil- 

 ing the cabbage Avhich ^ve see upon the table, and 

 by perspiring men in their shirt-sleeves, and by 

 boots that have forgotten, or do not care where 



they have been, make the air anything but agree- 

 able to those who are not accustomed to it. This 

 is the place where the family live. They cook 

 everything here, for themselves and their hogs. 

 They eat every m.eal here. They sit here every 

 evening, and here they receive their friends. 

 The women in this kitchen toil incessantly, from 

 the time they rise in the morning until they go 

 to bed at night. Here man and woman, sons and 

 daughters, live in the belief that work is the 

 great thing, that efficiency is the crowning ex- 

 cellence of manhood and womanhood, and wil- 

 lingly go so far into self-abasement, sometimes, as 

 to contemn beauty, and those who love it, and to 

 glory, above all things, in brute strength and 

 brute endurance." 



If that is not a gross caricature of farmers' 

 homes as found generally in New England, then 

 light is darkness and darkness light. It is a dis- 

 gusting and degrading picture, and more, it is a 

 dishonest representation. "W'e appeal to every 

 one conversant with farmers' life, to unite with us 

 in declaring the truth Avhich we xiow state. — that 

 in the rural districts, family life answering to this 

 description is held up as a fit subject of merri- 

 ment and scorn, and our city friends can testify 

 that they, with us, have enjoyed many a scene of 

 merriment at the expense of these rare exceptions 

 — these vulgar, behind-the-times realities, for we 

 do not deny that such there are, but few and far 

 between, relics of we know not whcit. 



By the way, we respectfully request our city 

 friends, believers in the truth of the article in the 

 Atlantic Monthhj, who contemplate rusticating 

 among us, to bring the substantial in such quan- 

 tity and quality as suits their taste, unless they 

 wish to enjoy cabbage alone. "Stewed soap- 

 grease," we have never been treated to the dish, 

 and rather conclude not to include that in our 

 "bill of fare." 



Let those who believe this a true description, 

 no longer dream of breathing fresh air, in the 

 country. If here is the place where the family 

 live, "the female part," from morning till night, 

 "dream not of going into the open air, lest you 

 astonish the natives ; when with the Romans, you 

 must do as the Romans do." 



The writer certainly must have the credit of 

 originality, in his description, for never in our 

 reading have we seen anything describing coun- 

 try life like this. If we take the writer's ideas 

 to be truth, why, we are bound to believe that 

 vulgarity and coai'seness are an essential part of 

 character, as it is usually developed in farming 

 communities, and of course, there can be no crav- 

 ing for the beautiful in nature, art or literature. 

 Gray, Goldsmith, and other writers who have 

 dared to teach us that 'mid the "homely joys" 

 of the rural homes, we were to look for love and 

 sympathy, peace, charity, friendship and truth, 

 these, their works, must bs laid aside as poetic 

 fancies without foundation, and we must receive 

 for truth, that from which our better feelings re- 

 volt. This we will not do. "People above us and 

 below us, we must find," and we have yet to 

 learn that in the country places there is less re- 

 spect "cherished for age, for friends, for poverty 

 or weakness," than in the cities. 



Were one of these specimens of "self-abase- 

 ment" to I'isit the city and give a description of 

 city life, would it be fair to select the vicious and 



