224 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



MISCELLANY 



From the Illinois Monthly Magazine. 



THE PRAIRIE. 

 The prairie was clad in its richest array. 

 Its brightest of scarlet, and gayest of green, 

 And the sun seemed to pause in his luminous way, 

 And to sparkle with joy o'er the beautiful scene. 



The flowers — though florists will hardly agree, "^ 

 To a doctrine so strange and so novel to them — 

 Were blushing, and bowing, and making as free 

 As if each had a heart in its delicate stem. 



Every gay little bud had a smile for her peers, 



Though the violet certainly looked rather blue ; 



And the blush of the rose seemed to glow through her 



tears. 

 But perhaps, as 'twas early, the drops were of dew. 



Had you seen them, dear Myra, you never again 

 Had been sceptic enough to deny that a Aoh er 

 Has tender sensations and pleasure and pain. 

 And sweet recollections of sunshine and shower. 



The wild deer was gracefully bounding aloncr. 

 And tossing his antlers so proudly the while, 

 That the gay little blossoms he cantered among 

 Were restrained by good manners alone from a smile. 



The prairie bird strutted about, with the air 

 Of a trajedy king, or a comedy lover, 

 While a pair of fond turtles, an amorous pair. 

 Were quietly cooing a love-lecture over. 



Arid music— such music ! the air bore along. 

 As it swept the green hillocks, and shook the lone tree ; 

 The prairie bird's note, and the mocking bird's son"-. 

 And the hoot of the owl, and the hum of the bee. 



And the cracking of twigs as the wolf trotted by, 

 -\nd the bark of the hunter's dog, far o'er the plain, 

 The report of the rifle, and the fawn's plaintive cry. 

 And the dirge of the crow, and the shriek of the crane ! 



And the cattle-bell tinkling, just heard, far away. 

 And a farmer's boy whistling, the time to beguile : 

 And a voice in my heart — what it was I can 't say. 

 That was warbling of Myra and love all the while. 



And I thought how delightful a change it would be. 

 When disposed to forsake the clay form I inhabit, 

 To live upon dew like a delicate bee. 

 Or to gallop through grass like a deer — or ,3 rabbit. 



Or to a chaste bud with an aspect of snow, 

 Or a dandy of flowers, a gaudy gay fellow; 

 On the wide sunny prairie to dance and to bow. 

 With a mantle of green, with a trimming of yellow. 



And I thought— but I h.ippcned just thento awake- 

 How the best settled intellects somctimeswill rove. 

 And yet 't is a pleasant excursion to take,. 

 With Mab, o'er the prairies, when one is(n love .' 



OLD SETTLERS OF NOVA BCOTIA. 



The following extract of a letter fmin Lord Ed- 

 ward Fitzgerald to lii.s Mother is, taken from 

 Moore's life of that personage. Mr Moore say* 

 that this letter affords one of the instances where 

 'a OTiter may be said to be a poet TOthout know- 

 ing it.' 



' My dearest Mother,— Here I am, after a very 

 long and fatiguing journey. I had no idea of what 

 It was : It was more like a campaign than any- 

 thmg else, e.xcept in one material point, tliat of 

 having no danger. I should have enjoyed it most 

 completely but for the musquitos, but they took off 

 a great deal of my pleasure : the millions of them 

 are dreadful. If it Iiad not been for this incon- 

 vemenee, my journey would liave been delightful. 

 Ihe country is almost in a state of nature, as well 

 as Its inhabitants. Tliere are four sorts of these • 



the Indians, the French, the old English settlers, 

 and now the refugees from the other parts of 

 America : the last seem the most civihzed. 



' The old settlers are almost as wild as Indians, 

 biit lead a very comfortable life ; they are all 

 farmers, and live entirely within themselves. — 

 They supply all their own wants by their contri- 

 vances, so that they seldom buy anything. They 

 ought to be the happiest people in the world, 

 but they do not seem to know it. They imagine 

 themselves poor because they have no monev, 

 witliout considering they do not want it : every- 

 thing is done by barter, and you ^rill often find a 

 farmer well suppUed with everything, and yet not 

 have a shilling in money. Any man that will 

 work is sure, in a few years, to have a comfortable 

 farm : the first eighteen months is the only hard 

 time, and that in most places is avoided, partieu- 

 larly near the rivers, for in eveiy one of them a 

 man will catch in a day enough to feed him for 

 the year. In the winter, with very little trouble, 

 he supplies himself with meat by killing moose- 

 deer ; and in summer with pigeons, of which the 

 woods are full. These he must subsist on till he 

 has cleared ground enough to raise a little grain, 

 which a hard-working man will do in the course 

 of a few months. By selUng his moose skins, 

 making sugai- out of the maple-tree, and by a few 

 days' work for other people, for which he gets 

 great wages, he soon acquires enough to purchase 

 a cow. This, then, sets him up, and he is sure, in 

 a few years, to have a comfortable supply of every 

 necessary of Ufe. I came through a whole tract 

 of country jieopled by Irish, who came out not 

 worth a shilling, and have all now farms, worth 

 (according to the value of money in this country,) 

 from £1000 to £3000. 



' The equality of everybodj', and of their man- 

 ner of hfe, I like very much. There are no gen- 

 tlemen ; everybody is on a footing, provided he 

 works and wants nothing ; every man is exactly 

 what he can make himself, or has made himself 

 by industry. The more children a man has the 

 better: his wife being brought to bed is as joyful 

 news as his cow calving; the father has no unea- 

 siness about providing for them, as this is done by 

 the profit of their work. By the time they we fit 

 to settle, he can always afford them two oxen, n 

 cow, a gun, and an axe, and in a few years, if they 

 work, they will thrive. 



' I came by a settlement along one of the rivers, 

 which was all the work of one pair ; the old man 

 was seventytwo, the old lady seventy ; they had 

 been there thirty years; they came there with 

 one cow, three children, and one servant ; there 

 was not a living being witliin si.xty milfes of then:. 

 The first year they lived mostly on milk and 

 marsh leaves ; the second year they contrived to 

 inirchase a buU, Ijy the produce of their mooso 

 skins and fish : from this time they got on very 

 well ; and there are now five sons and a daughter 

 all settled in different farms along the river for the 

 space of twenty miles, and all living comfortably 

 and at ease. The old pair live alone in the little 

 log cabin they first settled in, two miles from any 

 of their children; their little spot of ground is cul- 

 tivated by these children, and they are supplied 

 with so much butter, grain, meat, &c, from each 

 child, according to the share he got of the land ; 

 so that the old folks have nothing to do but to 

 mind their house, which is a kind of inn they keep, 

 more for the sake of the company of the few trav- 

 ellers there are than for gain. 



' I was obliged to stay a day with the old peo- 

 ple on account of the tides, which did not answer 

 tor going up the river till next morning ; it was, I 

 think, as odd and as pleasant a day (in its way) as 

 ever I passed. I wish I could describe it to 

 you, but I cannot, you must only help it out with 

 your own imagination. Conceive, dearest mother, 

 arriving about twelve o'clock in a hot day at a 

 little cabin upon the side of a rapid river, the 

 liaidvs all covered with woods, not a house in 

 sight, — and there finding a little old, clean, tidy | 

 woman spinning, \vith an old man of the same 

 ajipearance weeding salad. We had come for ten 

 miles up the river without seeing anything but 

 woods. The old pair, on our arrival, got as active 

 as if only five-and-twenty, the gentleman getting 

 wood and water, the lady frying bacon and eggs, 

 and both talking a great deal, telling their story, 

 as I mentioned before, how they had been there 

 thirty years, and how their children were settled^ 

 and when cither's back was turned, remarking' 

 how old the other had grown ; at the same time all 

 kindness, cheerfulness, aud love to each other. 



' The contrast of all this, which had passed 

 during the day, with the quietness of the evening, 

 when the spirits of the old people had a little 

 subsided, and began to wear off with the day, and 

 with the fatigue of their little work, — sitting quiet- 

 ly at their door, on the same spot they had lived 

 in thirty years together, the contented thoughtful- 

 ness of their countenance, which was increased 

 by their age and the sohtary life they had led, the 

 wild quietness of the place, not a living creature 

 or habitation to be seen, and me, Tony, and our 

 guide sitting with them, all on one log. The 

 difference of the scene I had left, — the immense 

 way I had to get from this little corner of the 

 world, to see anything I loved, — the difference of 

 the life I should lead from that of this old pair, 

 perhaps at their age discontented, disappointed, and 

 miserable, wishing for power, &c, &c, — my dear- 

 est mother, if it was not for you, I believe I never 

 thoiild go home, at least I tliought so at that 

 Bioment.' 



Jewelry, Watche.'s, and Fancy Goods. 



WM. M. WESSON, No. 105 Washington Street, 

 Boston, is conslanlly supplied with a good .assortment 

 of Watches, Silver and Plated Ware, Jewelry, Cutlery, 

 Trays of all kitids, Fancy Goods, J^c, ^-c, which he will, 

 dispose of at as low a rale as can be purchased in the 

 city, inr Watches repaired and warranted. 



Published every Wednesday Evening, at 53 per annum, 

 payable at the end of the year — but those who pay within 

 sixty days from the time of subscribing, are entitled to a 

 deduction of fifty cents. 



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 being made in advance. 



Printed for J. B. Rossell, by I. R. Butts by whom 



all descriptions of Printing can be executed to meet the 

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 Russell, at the Agricultural Warehouse, No 52 North 

 Market Street. ' 



AGENTS. 

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 Albany — Wm. Thorbukn, 347 Market-street. - • 



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 Baltimore — G. B. Smith, Editor of the American Farmer. 

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 Flushing, N. Y. Wm. Prince &, Sons, Prop.Lin.Bot.Garden 

 Middletniryj Vt. — Wight Chapman. 

 Hartford — Goodwin & Co. Booksellers. 

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Halifax, N S — P. J Holland, Esq Recorder Offiee. 

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