No. 1. 



Dialogue. 



27 



Father. — No one would calculate the ad- 

 vantages arising from a mild and gentle spirit 

 wherever cattle, sheep, and other animals are 

 kept ; but we might see this exemplified, in 

 the opposite conduct of those around us; for 

 we know that farmer Bl unden's two dogs, and 

 his two more savage sons, are the terror of 

 the neighbourhood, while his poor animals are 

 worried almost to death by incessant noise 

 and driving. His dairy is ruined by such 

 means, for his cows are brought up to be 

 milked on the gallop, and their return to pas- 

 ture is a perfect cow-hunt! while the bloody 

 ears of his sheep and hogs show that the 

 hunters are often in at the death. Now, 

 they complain that their milk will not keep, 

 and it is notorious that they make the worst 

 butter in the neighbourhood ; and no wonder, 

 for their cows are always in terror and dis- 

 may. 



Frank. — Yes, and I cannot help contrast- 

 ing all this with the quietness and docility of 

 our animals, especially when I see them 

 standing in the yard so peacefully, chewing 

 the cud, and, upon being spoken to, removing 

 the right foot so carefully, to give room for 

 the girl to place the pail for milking ; and 

 especially, when she goes to milk Flora, the 

 cow which you purchased of Blunden, who, 

 even yet, will not stand quietly until the girl 

 commences her song, which she continues 

 during the whole operation ; after which, the 

 animal looks for the potato or bit of salt, or 

 some other little remembrance, which insures 

 her obedience for the next milking. But 

 there is one thing which I have observed — 

 they all move much quicker and walk faster 

 in the morning than in the evening, and seem 

 brighter and more cheerful ; and on their re- 

 turn to pasture, they will often set off on the 

 canter in the morning, while in the evening 

 all is still and solemn, with a seriousness 

 which is very striking — now, have you ever 

 observed thisl 



Father. — I have ; and, in connexion with 

 this, it is a remarkable fact, which you might 

 have observed, but which I have never seen 

 noticed in books — you may remember that 

 we said " the morning is the time for observa- 

 tion, the evening for reflection?''' 



Frank. — Yes, I shall never forget that, for 

 I am reminded of the difference, as well as 

 of the aptness of the observation, every morn- 

 ing and every evening. 



Father. — The act of observation draws for- 

 ward the attention — that of reflection directs 

 it backward, or to the consideration of what 

 is past. Do you understand the natural dis- 

 tinction between the two states of mind ] 



Fmjj/c.^-Perfectly ; no one walks in a 

 church-yard of a morning ; the evening is 

 the time for reflection upon the shortness and 

 uncertainty of life. 



Father. — Good. The fact which I allude 

 to is this: birds which sing in early morning, 

 do so in the major or sprightly key ; while 

 those which sing in the evening and during 

 the night, have voices in the minor, or key 

 of plaintiveness. The English thrush and 

 skylark, the goldfinch and linnet, are of the 

 morning class — the black-bird or ouzel, the 

 nightingale, and red-breast, and several others 

 are those of the evening : the one is observa- 

 tion, the other is reflection personified. 



Frank. — That is extremely curious, and it 

 is actually so, as I have often remarked, but 

 without making the application ; and the most 

 doleful sound, to be heard only at night, is the 

 cry of the owl ! 



Father. — So you see the truth of the re- 

 mark, that " farmers are, of all others, the 

 most favourably situated for observation and 

 reflection," and if they are the least enlight- 

 ened class of the community, it is not for 

 want of opportunity to accumulate stores of 

 instruction, of the richest variety. Now, let 

 us close these Dialogues. 



Frank. — Oh ! but let it be with that sweet 

 address to sacred music, which farmer Sykes 

 repeated to us the other evening. 



ODE TO SACRED MUSIC. 

 Queen of every moving measure, 

 Sweetest source of purest pleasure, 

 Music — why thy power employ, 

 Only for the sons of joy? 

 Only for the smiling guest. 

 At natal or at nuptial feast? — 

 Rather thy lenient measures pour 

 On tliose whom secret griefs devour; 

 Bid be still the bleeding heart 

 Of those whom death or absence part : 

 And with some softly-breathing air, 

 Smooth tlie brow of dumb despair ! 



Father. — But here is another close, which 

 must not be omitted, it is so very applicable 

 to the subject of our conversation. 



Contemplate, when the sun declines. 

 Thy death, with deep reflection; 



And, when again he rising shines. 

 Thy day of resurrection ! 



Frank. — And that, again, reminds me of 

 those beautiful lines of Mrs. Barbauld, and 

 which I so often hear you repeat. 



Life, we 've been long together. 

 In pleasant and in cloudy weather ; 

 'Tis hard to part, when friends are dear — 

 Perhaps 't will cause a sigh, a tear — 

 Then steal away — give little warning, 



Choose your own time — 



Say not " good night," 

 But, in some brighter clime, 



Wish me "good morning!" 



END OF THE DIALOGUES. 



At Edinburgh (Scotland) may be found in 

 the collection of Lawson & Son, seedsmen, 83 

 varieties of wheat, 62 of peas, 51 of turnips, 

 146 of potatoes, and immense numbers of spe- 

 cies and varieties of grass seeds, all perfect 

 in their kinds, many of which may probably 

 be well adapted to this country. 



