NEW E N G L A N'D FARMER, 



JTILY 6, IS4a. 



03='The following tale conveys so excellent a 

 moral, by an agricultural illustration, and sucli an 

 impressive demonstration cf the power of the Chris- 

 tian precept, " Do unto others as ycni would they 

 should do unto you," that we make no apology for 

 the space it occupies in our coluTins, which per- 

 haps would not be hlled with more profitable mat- 

 ter, were it devoted, as usual, to that of a strictly 

 agricultural character. 



THE HUSH EL OF CORN. 



BT T. S. ARTHUR. 



Farmer Gray had a neighbor who was not the 

 best tempered man in the world, though mainly 

 kind and obliging. He was a shoemaker. His 

 name was Barton. One day in harvest tiuie, when 

 every hand on the farm was busy as a bee, this 

 .man came over to Farmer Gray's, and said, in rath- 

 er a petulent tone of voice — 



'Mr Gray, I wish you would send over and 

 drive your geese home.' 



' Why so, Mr Barton ; what have my geese been 

 doing ?' said the farmer, in a mild quiet tone. 



'They pick my pigs' ears when they are eating, 

 and go into my garden, and I will not have it !' the 

 neighbor replied in a still more petulent voice. 



'I am really sorry for it, neighbor Barton ; but 

 what can I do ?' 



'Why yoke them, and thus keep them on your 

 own premises. It's no kind of way to let your 

 geese run alt over every farm imd garden in the 

 neighborhood.' 



' But I cannot see to it now. It is harvest time, 

 friend Barton, and every man, woman and child on 

 tlie farm has as much as he or she can do. Try 

 and bear it for a week or so, and then I will see if 

 I can possibly remedy the evil.' 



' I can't bear it, and I wont bear it any longer!' 

 the shoemaker said. 'So if you do n't take care of 

 them, friend Gray, I shall have to take care of 

 them for you.' 



' Well, neighbor Barton, you can do as you 

 please,' farmer Gray replied in his usual quiet tone. 

 ' I am sorry that they trouble you, Imt 1 cannot at- 

 tend to them now.' 



'I'll attend to them for you, see if I don't,' the 

 shoemaker said, still more angrily, and then turned 

 upon his heel and strode off towards his own house, 

 which was quite near. 



' What upon earth can be the matter with them 

 geese .'' Mrs Gray said about fifteen minutes after- 

 wards. 



' I really cannot tell, unless neighbor Barton'is 

 taking care of them. He threatened to do so if I 

 did n't yoke them right off.' 



'Taking care of them! How taking care of 

 them -'' 



' As to that I am quite in the dark. Killing 

 them, perhaps. He said they picked at his pigs' 

 ears and drove them away when they were eating, 

 and that he would not have it. He wanted me to 

 yoke them right off, but that 1 could not do, as all 

 the hands are busy. He then said, that if I did n't 

 take caie of them, he would. So I suppose he is 

 engaged in the neighliorly business of taking care 

 of our geese.' 



'John! William! run over and see what Mr 

 Barton is doing with my geese,' !Mrs Gray said, in 

 a quick and anxious tone, to two little boys who 

 were playing near. 



The urchins scampered off, well pleased to per- 

 ^form any errand. 



' Oh, if he has dared to do any thing to my geese. 



I will never forgive him!' the good wife said, an- 

 grily. 



' H-u-s-h, Sally ! make no rash speeches. It 

 is more than probable that he ha;; killed some two 

 or three of them. But never mind if he has. He 

 will get over his pet, and be sorry for it.' 



' Yes ; but what good will his being sorry do 

 me. Will it bring my geese to life ?' 



' Ah, well, Sally, never mind. Let us wait until 

 we learn what all this disturbance is about.' 



In about ten minutes the children came home, 

 bearing the bodies of three gnese, each without a 

 head. 



' Oh, is n t that too much for hum.nn endurance !' 

 exclaimed Mrs Gray. ' Where did you find them ?' 



' We found them lying out in the road,' said the 

 oldest of the two children. 'And when we picked 

 them up, Mr Barton said — ''Tell your father that 

 I have yoked his geese for him, to save him the 

 trouble, as his hands are all too busy to do it.'" 



' I 'd sue him for it !' said M rs Gray in an indig- 

 nant tone. 



' And what good would that do, Sally .'' 



' Why it would do a great deal of good. It 

 would teach him better manners. It would punish 

 him ; and he deserves punishment.' 



put a jar ol cream into it as long as yon lived — 

 that you would n't. And yet, on trial, you found 

 that churn the best yon had ever used, and now 

 would n't part with it on any consideration. So 

 you see, Sally, that even you can sjy and do un. 

 reasonable things when you are angry just as well 

 as Mr Barton can. I<et us then consider him a 

 little, and give him time to get over his angry fit. 

 It will be much better to do so.' 



Mrs Gray saw that her husband was right, but 

 still she felt indignant at the outrage connnitted on 

 her geese. Slie did not, however, say any thing 

 about suing the shoemaker — for old brindle's head 

 from which the horn had been knocked off, was 

 not entirely well, and one prosecution very natu 

 rally suggested the idea of another. So she took 

 her three fat geese, and after stripping off their 

 feather?, had them prepared for the table. 



On the next morning, as Mr Gray was goin 

 along the road, he met the shoemaker, and as they 

 had to pass very near to each other, the farmer 

 smiled an<l bowed, and spoke kindly. Mr Barton 

 looked and felt very uneasy, but fanner Gray did 

 not seem to remember the unpleasant incident of 

 the day before. 

 . It was about eleven o'clock of the same day, 



And punish us into the bargain. We have j ,i,at one of farmer (iray's little boys came running ,' 



lost tlireo geese now, but we still have their good 

 fat bodies to eat. A lawsuit would cost us a good 

 many geese, and not leave us even so much as the 

 feathers, besides giving us a world of trouble and 

 vexiition. No, no, Sally — just let it rest, and he 

 will be sorry for it, I know.' 



'Sorry for it, indeed! And what good will his 

 being sorry for it do us, I should like to know ? 

 Next, he will kill a cow, and then we must be sat- 

 isfied with his being sorry for it ! Now, I can tell 

 you that I don't believe any thing about his be- 

 ing sorry, the crabbed, ill-natured wretch.' 



'Don't call hard names, Sally,' farmer Gray 

 said, in n mild, soothing tone. ' Neighbor Barton 

 was not himself when he killed the geese. Like 

 every other angry person, he was a little insane, 

 and did what he would not have done had he been 

 perfectly in his right mind. When you are a little 

 excited, you know, Sally, that even yott do and 

 say unreasonable things.' 



" Me do and say unreasonable things !' exclaim- 

 ed Mrs Gray, with a look and tone of indignant as- 

 tonishment; 'Me say and do unreasonable things 

 when I 'm angry ! 1 do n't understand you, Mr 

 Gray.' 



' May bo I can help you a little. Do n't you 

 remember how angry you were when Mr Mellon's 

 old brindle got into our garden, and tramped over 

 your lettuce bed, and how you struck her with the 

 oven pole, and knocked off one of her horns?" 

 ' But I did n't mean to do that, though.' 

 ' No, but then you were angry, and struck old 

 hrindle with a right good will. And if Mr Mellon 

 had felt disposed, he might have prosecuted for 

 damages.' 



' But she had no business there.' 

 ' Of course not. Neither had our geese any 

 business in neighbor Barton's yard. But, perhaps 

 I can help you to another instance, that will be 

 more conclusive in regard to your doing and saying 

 unreasonable things when you are angry. Yoti re- 

 member the patent churn ?' 



' Yes, but never mind about that.' 

 ' So you have not forgotten how unreasonable 

 you were about the churn. It was n't good for 



any thing — you knew it wasn't; and you'd never ]j^,|(j g^jj 



to him, and crying — 



Oh father ! father! Mr Barton's hogs are in 

 our corn field.' 



' Then I must go and drive them out,' said Mr 

 Gray, in a quiet tone. 



' Drive 'em out !' ejaculated Mrs Gray. 'Drive 

 'em out, indeed ! I 'd shoot them, that 's what I 'd 

 do ! I 'd serve him as he served my geese yester- 

 day I' 



' But that would n't bring the geese to life again, 

 Sally.' 



' I do 'nt care if it would n't : it would he paying 

 him in his own coin, and that's all he deserves.' 



'You know what the bible says, Sally, aboui 

 grievous words, and they apply with stronger forct 

 to grievous actions. No — no — I will return neigh 

 bor Barton good for evil. That is the best away 

 He has done wrong, and I am sure is sorry for it 

 And as I wish him still to remain sorry for so un 

 kind and unneighborly an action, I intend making 

 use of the best means for keeping him sorry.' 

 Then you will be revenged on him, any how.' 

 No, Sally — not revenged. I hope I have no 

 such feeling. For I am not angry with neighboM 

 Barton, who has done himself a much greatei 

 wrong than he has done me. But I wish him tt 

 see clearly how wrong lie acted, that he may do sc 

 no more. And then we shall not have any caust 

 to complain of him, nor he any to bi; grieved, as 1 

 am sure he is at his own hasty conduct. Bui 

 while I am talking here, his hogs are destroying 

 my corn.' 



And BO saying, farmer Gray hurried off towards 

 his corn-field. When he arrived there, he founc 

 fotir large hogs tearing down the stalks, and pulling 

 off and eating the ripe ears of corn. They had al 

 ready destroyed a good deal. But he drove then 

 out very calmly, and put up the bars through whici: 

 they had entered, and then commenced gathering 

 up the half eaten ears of corn, and throwing there 

 out into the lane for the hogs that had been sosud 

 denly disturbed in the process of obloining a'libe. 

 ral meal. As he was thus engaged, Mr I'arton. 

 «hu had from his own house seen the farmer turo 

 the hogs out of his corn-field, cnme hurriedly up, 



