158 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



April 



in cuttin;T turnips and not cutting thorn : Suppose 

 you put 100 slieej^ on turnips not cut and one 

 pound of oil-cake ; thuy ■will not do so well as 

 100 s!ieep put on turnips cut -without any cake, 

 neither will they be fit for the batcher so soon by 

 two months. Let any one try it : tlioy will find 

 iny remarks upon this matter quite true." 



For the Nfir Ens'/and Farmer. 



A WINTER NIGHT. 



BY TUK "PEASAN'T BAUD." 



It 13 .1 gusty, winter night ! 



Tlie winds go liowling on their flight, 



And raving jiast my windows bright, 



AVith furious din, 

 S.-H the wild drift, like some chilled sprite, 



To peer within. 



Anon lie tries, and shakes .the sashes ; 

 Now at the panes makes furious dashes ; 

 lie scratches, rattles, Iiisses, lashes, — 



In vain he tries ; 

 Bui folds his white robe, "pale as ashes," 



And down he lies. 



I look into the night, and spy 



The tree-tops wrestling with the sky ; 



New bowing, SiS the blast goes by. 



Now tossing mane. 

 Like things of life, that would defy 



The blast again. 



It comes again ; how hoarse it roars. 

 As through the sounding wood it pours ! 

 The avant courier shakes my doors, 



And fans my fire. 

 Now smites the Storm-king, as he soars, 



His awful lyre ! 



There's music in it to his ear, 



Wtio, lulled to soft repose, may hear ; 



But, ah ! how many shake with fear 



At strains so dread. 

 To whom it plays a requiem drear 



For comforts fled ! 



God's creaturss that are mine to keep — 

 The patient ox, and "silly sheep," — 

 1 cannot "lay me down to sleep" 



Unless I know. 

 They're safe from these fierce gusts that sweep 



The smothering snow. 



While by the crackling hearth I stay. 

 My thoughts go forth, and far away 

 They follow where the mad winds play 



O'er land and sea ; 

 What tragic pictures they portray. 



All truthfully ! 



I sec the poor, less blest than I ; 

 The tear that Iree/.es when they cry ; 

 I see the sons of -Misery, 



Begot of Crime. 

 When shall a guilty world espy 



jnilennial time ? 



Wlien shall the poor by fauHs their own. 

 For all theii- self-abuse atone .' 

 Let the beguiling cup alone. 



Fell source of woe. 

 And send its train attendant prone 



To shades below ? 



When shall the poor whom Heav'n makes so. 

 The widow, pale with want and woe, 

 And hungry ori>han?, born to know 



That living 's dyinp, 

 Find that the i)rophet-feedii)g crow 



E'en yet is flying? 



I see poor sufferers in distress 

 Upon the watery wilderness ; 

 How roaring surges now supjiress 



Their "bubbling groan," 

 As down they sink, all coffinless. 



To depths unknown. 



I see the pensive forest-child, — 

 The Indian, in his snowy wild. 

 The drift around his wigwam piled 



Is not as cold 

 As is the white man's "mercy mild;" — 



Write, knavery bold. 



Jre all men brothers 7 Can we call, 

 Who dwell upon this earthy ball, 

 One God the Father of us all — 



The lost, the saved .' 

 Then why is tliis a luckless Saul, 



And that a David ? 



Why made to differ ? Answer 's drowned 

 By the great wind-harp's solemn sound. 

 0, never yet was answer found ! 



But this we knosv : 

 Man's heart is like the fallow ground ; 



See what ye sow ! 



Tor the New England Farmer. 



SHOET-HOEN CATTLE. 



As the raising of stock, and the importance of 

 improving our breeds of cattle, especially in New 

 England, is beginning to attract the attention of 

 the mo^t intelligent farmers of our country, I 

 think it will be interesting to the readers of your 

 paper, to allude briefly to a ptarticular breed of 

 cattle, the lame of which is already too wide 

 spread to require any notice from me. But know- 

 ing as I do from actual experience, the real value 

 of this stock, I think a confirmation of what has 

 been said concerning it, will be no more than jus- 

 tice to the public, and to the intelligent breeder 

 who has conferred so great a benefit upon his 

 brother farmers. 



I refer to the beautiful herd of short-horns, 

 owned and bred by Paoli Lothrop, Esq., of South 

 Hadley Falls, Mass. I had the pleasure of esam- 

 ining this stock during the past summer, and 

 was most amply paid for my journey. Mr. L.'s 

 herd is not large, but very select, and in my opin- 

 ion, is not excelled in the two important requi- 

 sites, pjarticularly for the New England farmer, 

 of milk and beef, by any family of Durhams in 

 our country. In breeding, Mr. L. has paid p)ar- 

 ticular attention to the milking properties of his 

 stock, as may have been seen by the statement of 

 the quantity of batter made l)y his cows at dif- 

 ferent times, Avhich appeared a few montlis since, 

 in the Boston Cultivator, and which accords en- 

 tirely with my own exj^erience. He lias bred' 

 alone from animals of undoulited purity of pedi- 

 gree, which can in all cases be traced back, on 

 the side of both sire and d;im, to the three first 

 volumes of the Engl'sh Herd Book. 



I have bred froia bulls and cows of his herd for 

 the last ten years, and have found tliat a judi- 

 cious cross of his bulls with our best native cows 

 resulted, invariably, in a decided impiovomont 

 upon our stock. The high grade take on flesh 

 when not in milk much more rapidly, and yield 

 more abundantly at the pail, than t)ie na- 

 tives. We made from two three-^'cars old lieifers 

 of this description, which calved about the first of 



