154 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER 



NOV. 17, M4I 



that have tlie run nf your house, will think ttifm- 

 eelves bound to observe the fugleman, and do like- 

 wise : such is the esprit dt corps. Do you rcinein- 

 ber (he anecdote I once told you of the "rent Miss 



G , who undertook the mnnnpement of some 



of hi-r land ? She thoii:.'hl herself clever enoutjli to 

 manage John Chanburon, and the rest of them: so 

 one day she stood hy when Jidin was at his dinner; 

 and he dul not make the worse dinner for that. 

 Now, knowin;; the elasticity of Jolin's 8t<inincl], as 

 111; was risinj to his work, lime up, she said, " John, 

 I tliink it would save time of coming and poinfr, if 

 you Hniild sit down again and take your supper." 

 " No objection in the world," said John, and down 

 he sits, and instanter despatches another jiound or 

 two, and drink in proportion, ending with her lady- 

 ship's health and many thanks. '• Now then, John," 

 quoth the Lady Bountiful, " you may go to your 

 work." " ff'ork, Ma'am !" said John with a grin, 

 " I never works, ma'am, after supper," iind so lie 

 threw himself down, and in three minutes snored 

 like a pig. Laugli at it — laugh at it, and so Iniigli 

 at yourself He sleeps — that is more than you 

 will ; your head will never lie easy on yonr pillow 

 again; when niirht closes upon your crops for 

 growth or for blight, or if ripe for depredators, you 

 will dream of thieves and foxes prowling about 

 your poultry yard. 



• • Is it too late to be " a word to the wise .'" 

 When your laborer rests from his work, your work 

 ■will be going on. You may, indeed, quote your 

 favorite Gray — 



'* The plowman homeward pluds his weary way. 

 And leaves the world to darkness and lu mc." 



You m:iy well call it darkness, for you will have it 

 black enough — all will be black, even your corn, 

 for that will be sooted. And when all your pro- 

 jects fail, and you are really ruined — for I see no 

 other end if ycu pursue this folly — wliat bantering, 

 jeering, and insttlt there will be at the sale of your 

 stock, and what bitter sacrifice ! You had better 

 sell off all now while you can with a good grace. 



Y'ou ought to liave been made wise, for it was in 

 your presence I heard our excellent friend, George 

 Cartoon, go through his experiences of farming. 

 You remember the taking possession — how he set- 

 tled first his family at tlic town of , and ar- 

 rived at his farm one morning before breakfast, 

 where his land-bailiff or manager met him. Then 

 came a volley of disasters : tlie neighbors' cattle 

 had broken into his pasture; the poor had destroy- 

 ed his hedges for firewood; half his slitep were 

 going fast with the rot. " Well," thought he, as 

 he pushed the man out of the room, " I will have 

 my breakfast first," and so down he sat ; and scarce- 

 ly had he tasted the first morsel, when the man 

 came in again to tell him that his cattle had broken 

 into a neighbor's field, who had seiit word to say 

 he had put them in the pound, and would measter 

 be pleased to go and get them out.' " Hang 'em 

 all," said Cartoon, "let me hare my brenklast ;" 

 and away went the man. Then in rushed Jenny 

 Lake, the dairymaid, in a rage, that Sally Good- 

 man's bie boy had tlirow'i a slick at the gander 

 and killed him. Her he pushed out of the room, 

 and this time he locked the door. Jt was n't long 

 before it was invaded again, but ho was deaf to all 

 entreaty to open it; repealing just — " Can't come 

 in, can't come in." Breakfast over, out he went, 

 fairly intending to buckle himself to his task of ca- 

 lamities, and know them all. The list was long, 

 and bad enough ; and ho never found himself, he 



said, with all his imagined knowledge and power 

 of invention, so completely at a loss. However, 

 having in some sort settled tlie most urgent, and 

 left others to settle themselves, he ttiought he had 

 done enough for the first day ; and he determined 

 to indulge himself, and be free from all further in- 

 terruptions. So being, as you know, a lover of the 

 picturesque, he wandered among the rocks, and 

 seeing a snug place under a broad shadow, " Here," 

 thouglit he, " not a .<oul will ever find me out ;" 

 and here down he sat, took out his little book and 

 apparatus to sketch, thinking he would have the 

 beauty, if not the profit of tlie country. Scarcely 

 had he spread his paper before him, when a fanner 

 riding along the road some distance below him, 

 (and nothing less than the sharp eyes of Malevo- 

 lence, he vowed, could ever have found him out,) 

 spied him, and thus called out to him — " Holloa, 

 measter ! the craws be picking out ihe eyes of 

 your lamb.s." "What," cried Cartoon, " do they 

 do these things here too ?" and so he gave up his 

 sketching for that day. * * For several months 

 he endured torments agricultural, beyond what his 

 imagination (a fertile one,) could have drawn. He 

 could 'nt sell his sheep, he said; and one day ask- 

 ed a farmer who seemed most friendly to him, the 

 reason. " Why,'' quoth he, " you should put big 

 buttons on your coat, and drive 'em to the fair, as 

 we do, and be there, d'ye see, yourself" " Well," 

 said Cartoon, "since I had come to infra dig., I 

 thought for once, buttons shouldn't stand in my 

 way, and for once I would not have a soul above 

 buttons ; ao I got the pattern of the farmer's, and 

 big buttons had I to my coat." And so to fair he 

 went. One came and pinched his sheep, and 

 went away; another did the same; but nobody 

 bought, ask what price he would ; and by degrees 

 all went away, and he found himself left in the fair 

 with his detestable sheep. Nobody would buy 

 them; and most grinned and walked off when they 

 had fell them. Then the greatest annoyance he 

 had in doing as the farmers did, was in returning 

 from fairs — stopping with them at inns; and in 

 those fine days, they drank their bottles of wine, as 

 well as spirits. Now Cartoon detested drinking, 

 and nearly killed himself in the attempt to c'o as 

 " we farmers" do. On one occasion, he asked the 

 same farmer again, when the wine was in him, why 

 he could not sell his sheep. " Because, to tell you 

 the truth, they don't like gemmen, and won't buy 

 of a gemman." " Then," thought Cartoon to him- 

 self, " I '11 give up ;" and so he did ; and sold his 

 farm, luckily, at no great loss. He laughed very 

 heartily, and said he had one trifling, and he hoped 

 innocent, revenge upon his agriculturist neighbors. 

 On Ihe road, one day, he met some caravans going 



to the fair at B , and fell into conversatiiui 



with a gentleman riding the same road. He turn- 

 ed out to be the celebrated ventriloquist of the 

 west of Kngland. This man he engaged to ride 

 after a trio of farmers at a little distance. He did 

 so ; and when they came to the cross road, he pre- 

 tended to turn his horse's head another way, and 

 threw his voice into the beast's mouth. " Do n't 

 pull me so, for I 'd rather go along with these far- 

 mers." Offset the farmers, as fast as they could 

 gallop, verily thinking a greater thief in grain than 

 themselves was after them, 



• • Now, my friend, be wise from Cartoon's 

 example, and turn fince more to be a sensible man. 

 Resist, if it be not too late, the temptation. "Take 

 the bull by the horns" — no, that is an evil omen ; 

 have nothing to do with bulls nor cows. You ha»e 



already been vaccinated and caught the infection— 

 the love of cattle. You are like St. Antony, tempt 

 ed bv all unclean beasts. Soon your taste will de 

 generate into the porcine ; they were devils tha 

 entered into Bwjne ; take care the swine done 

 enter into yon. Then your very similes, and al 

 your ideas, will be hoggish : you will ronslder ih; 

 svmmum bonum to be a good bacim pig. " A-talk 

 ing of sows," drawled out a farmer to anoihei 

 "how's your wife?" Was any thing ever mor 

 thoroughly porcine ? Such ftllows are blind t' 

 everv other beauty ; they go about with a sty ii 

 their eye. You will prefer offal to romance. / 

 vile butcher will be your real Orlando, and Angeli 

 cas you will see no more: nay, the soft touch 

 woman's hand will furnish you with no other idei 

 but that it would make good butter. Abel, the stu 

 dent, was rusticated " to sow his wild oats," fell ii ' 

 love with the butter-woman, and made horned cat "^ 

 tie his friends, and became as one of them. '' 



* * Leisure you will have none — not a mo» ' 

 meni ; there will be always something to be donep 

 to be looked at, or to be mended. You will b* 

 worn to a shred, to a skeleton ; you will be pinchMi 

 like a snipe, and your nose be as sharp : methinki 

 I see you, like him, poking it into the ground tff 

 try to live upon suction. It will be the death ot 

 you. However, farewell : light lie the earth upon 

 you when you die, for it will be the heaviest M 

 burdens upon you as long as you live, (>>ncen< 

 not vourself about your epitaph. That shall htH 

 the last office of the pen of your loving and truthl 

 telling friend, not only till, but after death, " 



KUS.-BIC9. II 



_ 



Reply to Eusebius. 



' ' My farming, of which you make so black 

 an account, is at an end. "Othello's occupation 'jj 

 gone." I have in disgust thrown all up ; the uai 

 pleasant feeling has worn off, and I can now laug] 

 with the best of them at myself. I made known (ji 

 you my intention to purchase a few acres; yoi 

 said nothing to dissuade me from so doing. !l 

 bought; and thinking the next step in life was t^ 

 acquire some knowledge of agriculture, delcrminefl 

 to manage it myself; perhaps I ahuiild have sail 

 mismanage. ,^ 



I will not be wearisome by enumerating all n^ 

 little disasters, but merely tell you how I maiiagi 

 about my sheep. I had a day laborer, who scrvi 

 me as a hind : he was a faithful and honest fcllu 

 I believe, but a bit of a wag. He had o dry hi 

 mor about him ; not that I, by any means, vi)i 

 say 1ic did not dp his best to vioiaUn it : he v 

 about forty years of age ; a little man ; every fufc 

 turc in his face seemed to have a screw in it, whii 

 he could move either way at pleasure. Whency 

 Ii8 spoke seriously, he always looked straight at^ 

 wall, if one was near him, or the bole of a tree, 

 if no such object presented itself, at his finge: 

 (and they looked like tilings grown out of roU| 

 ground;) but whenever there v- . ■ i, 



what he had to say, he alway,-- 

 face, let out some of his scre«,s, ,:.i ,. ■' «' 

 ers, and nearly half-closed one eye, and ui 

 (|uite the other, and inclined his head a trill 

 wards his right shoulder. This would have a; 

 me, but I soon discovered it was his usual in 

 telling that something or other went wrong, ; 

 thing out of Us usual course, which he aieaql 

 show went wrong through my foult. 



My first purchase of sheep happened thus: 1 



