68 



NEW ENGLAND FAR]MER. 



Jan. 



erably the smallest has five hundred times 

 more encouragement than the other, which is 

 larger, and of proportionate importance to 

 both grower and consumer. Potato raisers 

 represent one of the most important agricul- 

 tural interests in New England. They are the 

 froducers of an article of diet, without which 

 reland starves, and America looks temaciated. 

 They pay the Society their share of money, 

 and cobt it nothing, comparatively. Although 

 the society has never paid us our share, we 

 will say nothing about the arrears and forgive 

 them cheerfully all their past transgressions, 

 if they will but play fair and show fair 

 play hereafter. We ask no part of the $500 

 paid on horses, nor the $157 paid on sheep. 

 No ; we will help pay both, but we very re- 

 spectfully ask a sum (divided, as the society 

 may determine, between the three or four 

 best fields, and several best varieties, «&c.) 

 equal to what the horses and sheep annually 

 eat out of the treasury of the society while on 

 exhibition. Who can say that this is an unfair 

 proposition or an unjust claim. We claim it. 



O. C. Wait. 

 West Georgia, Vt., Nov. 10, 18G8. 



WnoRTLEBEREiES. — A Writer in the Prai- 

 rie Farmer thinks the cultivation of whortle- 

 berries would be more remunerative than 

 strawberries. He says, bushes set one foot 

 by three, yielding half a pint to a bush, would 

 yield 95 bushels, worth $5 per bushel, or $475 

 per acre ; and once set, they would be a per- 

 manent institution. They might be grown on 

 land fit for little .else. A successful experi- 

 ment, though on a small scale, would be far 

 more valuable than a mere suggestion. 



Apples. — In many parts of New England 

 the apple crop is more abundant than it has 

 been in any year for some time, but as it is 

 quite short in many sections of the country, the 

 fruit will be wanted at good prices. In New 

 Jersey, Maryland and Pennsylvania, apples as 

 well as peaches, have been a complete failure. 



To Cure Corns. — The corn should first 

 be well softened by soaking the foot in warm 

 water, and as much of it removed by a sharp 

 instrument as can be done without pain. Then 

 apply over the surface a very small quantity of 

 pulverized nitrate of silver, and cover it with 

 a piece of linen or lint, in order to keep it in 

 its place. After twenty-four hours, the foot 

 may be soaked again, and that portion of the 

 corn which has become blackened and disinte- 

 grated by the caustic removed by scraping, or 

 with a knife. Repeat the operation till a cure 

 is effected. — Jour, of Chemistry. 



loul^s' Stpartmtnt. 



A LITTLE GOOSE. 



BY ELIZA S. TCRNEK. 



The chill November day was done, 



The working- world home-faring; 

 The wind came roaring through ihe streets, 



And set the gas-liglits flaring, 

 And hopelessly and aimletnly 



The scared old leaves were flying; 

 When, mingled ■with the soughless wind, 



I heard a small voice criing. 



And shivering on the corner stood 



A child of four or over ; 

 No cloak nor hat her small, soft arms 



And wind-blown curls to cover. 

 Her dimpled fase was stained with tears; 



Her round blue eyes ran over; 

 She cherished in her wee, cold hand 



A bunch of faded clover. 



And, one hand round her treasure, while 



She slipped in mine the other, 

 Half scared, half-confidential, said, 



"O please, I want ray mother." 

 "Tell me your street and number, pet; 



Don't cry; I'll take you to it. 

 Sobbing, she answered, "I forget; 

 ^ The organ made me do it. 



"He came and plaj^ed at Miller's step; 



The monkey took the money ; 

 I followed down the street, because 



That monkey was so funny. 

 I've walked about a hundred hours 



From one street to another; 

 The monkey's gone, I've spoiled my flowers; 



O please, 1 want my mother 1" 



"But what's your mother's name, and what 



The street ? Now think a minute." 

 "My ixolher's name is Mother Dear; 



The sireet— I can't begin ic." 

 "But what \i etrav ge about the house, ^ 



Or new, i ot like ihe others ?"' 

 "I guess you mean my trundle-bed — 



Mine and my little brother's. 



"O dear, I ought to be at home, 



To help him sjy his prayers; 

 He's tu h a ba'iy , ho forgets ; 



And we are both such players ; 

 And theie'd a bar between, to keep 



From pitching on each other, 

 For Harry rolls when he's as'eep — 



dear, I want my mother I" 



The sky grew stormy, people passed 



All muffled, bomewaid faring. 

 "You'd haye to spend the night with me," 



1 said at last, despairing. 



I tied her 'kerchief round her neck — 

 "What ribbon's this, my blossom?" 



"Why don'i you know?" she smiling said, 

 And drew ii from her bosom. 



A card, with number, street, and name I 



My eyes astonished met it; 

 "For," said the little one, "you see 



I might some time forget it : 

 And so I wear a little thing 



That tolls you all about it; 

 For mother says she's very sure 



I would get lost without it." 



"Father," said a cobbler's lad, as he was 

 pegging away at an old shoe, "they say trout 

 bite like everything now." "Well, well," re- 

 plied the old gentleman, "stick to your work, 

 and they won't bite you." 



