No. 5. 



Hymn for the Country. 



151 



the initials of the farmer from whom the 

 milk is received, in order to avoid confusion 

 when they are exchanged for return. 



In answer to some inquiries about sour 

 milk, I was informed that there is a great 

 difference in that brought by different indi- 

 viduals. Some of that which is brought the 

 greatest distance keeps the longest; and in 

 one instance they had never lost a single 

 can. On asking the reason of this, I was 

 told that the milkers must have filled the 

 cans of cold milk with warm milk directly 

 from the cows, which causes it to sour. 

 "This," said the woman, "is always the 

 effect of mixing the two." Another cause 

 of souring, she said, " is in consequence of 

 not immediately depriving the milk of its 

 animal heat. Some farmers set the cans of 

 milk in cold water, and there leave them. 

 The water soon becomes warm, and is but 

 little better than if they were not put in at 

 all. Others draw off the water as soon as 

 it becomes warm, and replace it with cold, 

 until the milk is sufficiently cooled ; while 

 others place their cans in a cold spring or 

 vat of running water, where it soon becomes 

 perfectly cold. But the best way," said she, 

 ♦' for I was brought up on a dairy farm, is to 

 put the milk in large pans placed in running 

 water, which will cause it to cool immedi- 

 ately; and then pour it into the cans, leaving 

 off the lids or covers for all the gases to es- 

 cape, until they are ready to convey to mar- 

 ket," 



By this time the husband came in, and I 

 turned my attention to him, as his wife and 

 daughter were busily engaged in waiting 

 upon their customers. On asking him whe- 

 ther some lots of milk from the same cows 

 do not make more butter at one time than 

 another, he replied that he had churned 

 through the hot weather witii his own hands; 

 that he had measured the milk and weighed 

 the butter produced from it; and that he hud 

 found it would require from eleven to twenty 

 quarts of milk, brought from the same farm, 

 to make a pound of butter, but could give no 

 satisfactory reason why it was so. — Ameri- 

 can Agriculturist. 



Hereditary Propensities in Dogs. — 



Roulin relates that the dogs employed for 

 hunting deer in some parts of Mexico, seize 

 the animal by the belly, and overturn it by 

 a sudden effort, taking advant<ige of the mo- 

 ment when the body of the deer rests only 

 upon the fore legs; the weight of the animal 

 thus thrown over being often six times that 

 of its antagonist. The dog of pure breed 

 inherits this disposition, and never attacks 

 the deer from before while running: even 



should the deer, not perceiving him, come 

 directly upon him, ^e dogs slip aside and 

 makes his assault on the flank ; whereas other 

 hunting dogs, though of superior strength 

 and general sagacity, which are brought 

 from Europe, are destitute of this instinct. 

 A new instinct has also become hereditary 

 in a mongrel race of dogs employed by the 

 inhabitants of the banks of the Magdalena, 

 in hunting the white lipped Pecari. The 

 address of these dogs consists in restraining 

 their ardor; attaching themselves to no ani- 

 mals in particular, but keeping the whole 

 herd in check. Now, among those dogs, 

 some are found, which, the very first time 

 they are taken to the woods, are acquainted 

 with this mode of attack; whereas a dog of 

 another breed starts forward at once, is sur- 

 rounded by the Pecari, and, whatever may 

 be his strength, is destroyed in a moment. — 

 Millengen's Mind and Matter. 



For the Farmers' Cabinet. 

 Hymn for the Country. 



Come to the fields,— our God is there; 

 Above, around, his glory view ; 



With bended knee and heart of prayer, 

 Mark yon waving green— eky of blue. 



Come to the fields,— far up on high, 

 His throned magnificence see! 



Those wondrous worlds, that ever fly, 

 And onward roll, in majesty. 



Hark ! to the hum of life, the chime 

 Of happiness, the busy glee. 



The ceaseless beat, and pulse of time, 

 Throbbing thus tumultuously. 



Come to the field*,— for ever there, 

 Is the Almighty's Holy Writ; 



No dark, deep secrets, bring despair, 

 Our own hearts declare— disclose it. 



All nature, its high truths reveals; 

 Its messenger— the lightning's flash, — 



Th' elation the happy spirit feels; 

 Its eloquence the thunder's crash. 



Th' ocean, th' air, its Prophet sages, 

 The harmony and voice of birds. 



Nature's glories are its pages — 

 Its types, its letters, and its words. 



Remember, man, of this thou art 

 The most wonderful — of the whole 



The nobler and loftier part- 

 But thou, hast an immortal soul. 



All perishes,- the vast, the grand; 

 Yon moving worlds, and all on high. 



Struck and crushed by the Almighty's hand; 

 Save thou, immortal ! all shall die. 



A. L. E. 

 Philad-a, Dec. 1st, 1847. 



