1854. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



563 



had been missed sixteen days and it is supposed 

 that he was in the mud all the time. His head 

 resting on the dry ground he was enabled to reach 

 some bushes and thus preserved his life. He is 

 now doing nicely." I 



For the New England Farmer. 



THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 



The lover of the beautiful in Nature searches 

 not in vain at any season of the year, among her 

 various operations, for something to awaken with- 

 in his bosom those blissful emotions, which nought 

 but the beautiful can awaken, and which, to 

 those who experience them, are of more value 

 than rubies. Sweet spring comes, and with its 

 warm breath dissolves the snows of winter, melts 

 the frozen lakes, unchains the ice-bound streams, 

 which, as if glad of their release, make joyous 

 music as they rush impetuously o'er their rocky 

 mountain beds, or wind their, way through the 

 quiet valleys. And as it continues to breathe 

 upon the earth, it wakens into life innumerable 

 forms of beauty, from the tender grass beneath 

 our feet, to the tali, majestic tree of the forest. 

 How fresh and animated Nature now appears, as 

 she arrays herself in her summer dress of green ! 

 What delicate forms and exquisite colors the 

 flowers assume, as they unfold their soft petals to 

 the genial sun ! Beautiful birds, arriving from 

 their distant southern homes, visit again their 

 old haunts in 



"The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood," 



and waken, with their meledious songs, the long- 

 silent echoes of the woods and fields. 



The glorious summer comes; and now the! 

 leaves of trees and plants having attained their | 

 growth, assume a darker and richer green; the! 

 growing grass and grain begin to wave luxuri-i 

 an tly in the soft summer wind. The flocks and! 

 herds are quietly grazing in their green pastures 

 upon the hills, or reposing beneath some shady 

 grove. And now let the child of nature go forth 

 into the fields or ascend some height, 



"And view the landscape o'er," 



or stand beside rushing catai acta , or wander far 

 away into the dim old woods, and if, by vrh.at he 

 sees or liears, his heart is not stirred within him, 

 the beauties of nature can have little or no charms 

 for him. 



But nature pauses not, and summer soon rip- 

 ens into luild autumn. The tall grass and gold 

 en grain have fallen before the scythe and sickle ; 

 the delicious, red, yellow and purple fruit is be- 

 ing gathered from the trees and vines. There is 

 but here and there a flower, and these are of less 

 brilliant hues than those of summer. The birds, 

 many of them have ceased their songs and flown to 

 warmer skies. But Nature, as if to compensate 

 for the dreary aspect of the fields, and the silence 

 of the groves, now arrays herself in a most gor- 

 geous robe of red and yellow, brown and groen, 

 with all their different shades and combinations. 

 Let us now ascend some neigliboring hill or moun- 

 tain, and gaze upon the glorious picture spread 

 out before us — such a picture as no mortal hand 

 can paint ! How beautifully the dark green pine, 

 spruce and hemlock contrast witli the red maple 

 and oak, the brown and yellow chestnut, hickory 

 and beech. And what words can describe the en- 



chanting beauty of the woodland lake as it mir- 

 rors on its glassy surface, this wondrous scene 1 

 But 



"Leaves have their time to fall, 



And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath ;" 



autumn swiftly recedes before stern winter's icy 

 tread. And some may ask, "Where now are the 

 beauties of nature?" As I have said before, he that 

 hath the spirit of beauty abiding in his soul, sel- 

 dom passes a day, or hour, wherein hecannot find 

 something in the outward world, which answers 

 to the spirit within. The hoar frost is beautiful 

 as it glistens upon every twig and spire of grass, 

 in the sun's morning rays. And so is the virgin 

 snow as it spreads its soft white mantle upon the 

 ground. But when winter holds his jubilee, and 

 reveals his "countless treasures," when on some 

 keen, clear morning, 



"We waken to a world of ice ;" 



when every object, high and low, is covered witha 

 thick, icy coating, and the sun, in cloudless 

 splendor ,shines upon the scene, who then can ask 

 — "Where is the beautiful ?" 



"A shower of gems is strewed around ; 



The flowers of winter, rich and rare ; 

 Rubies and sapphires deck the ground ; 



The topaz, emerald, all are there. 



"The morning sun, with cloudless rays. 

 His powerless splendor round us streams ; 



From crusted boughs, and twinkling spray?. 

 Fly back unloosed the rainbow beams.'* 



And nature also, as if to make up for the loss of 

 some of her charms on earth, now imparts new 

 beauties to the heavens ; she gives to the skies a 

 deeper blue, adds new brilliancy to the stars ; and 

 paints the morning and evening clouds with 

 fresher, brighter tints. Not only does Nature 

 with lavish hand scatter her beauties o'er the 

 land, but the sea also, she has filled with them : 



"The sea ! the sea 1 the open sea! 

 The blue ! the fresh '. the ever free I" 



conceals in its heaving hosom, and strews along 

 storm-beaten shores, many things both animate 

 and inanimate. 



How kind in our heavenly Father to give us, — 

 not only the necessaries and comforts of life, — 

 but also to satisfy to so great a degree, the in- 

 vscvTci innginws of our souls for the beautiful and 

 sublime. \\ hue s^-^lng unon some ))eautifui 

 scene in nature, or listening to some tu^u^nHnw 

 song, how often has the thought arisen — whaF, 

 O, what must be the beauties, the melodies of 

 "those everlasting gardens where angels walk," 

 where resides the Author of all beauty, and har- 

 mony, if to sinful men is given such sweet music, 

 such glorious scenes? S. L. WuiTt;. 



Groton, Oct.y 1854. 



Tor the New England Farmer. 



FOREST TREES. 

 Friend Brown ; — In answer to your corres- 

 pondent " C. W." of Johnston, Vt., I would say 

 that pine seeds should be sown at abowt tl\e time 

 they fall from the tree, which is in August and 

 September for tlie white pine, and from November 

 to April for pitch pine. August is the time to 

 save the seed of the wliite pine, and this kind af 

 pine is preferable to sow, as it is best for lumber, 

 and leaves the land in much the best condition 



