} 



Pew of the youth in the country, we fear, appreciate 

 or improve the advantages they enjoy — particularly 

 those afforded by the long winter evenings. The 

 youth in our cities, at most trades, have to labor as 

 long, and longer, _ in the winter than at any other 

 season. The evenings are not their own, but their 

 employer's. In thecounh-y the winter is a season of 

 leisure. The farmer's son and daughter employ the 

 evenings as best suit their inclination. What an 

 opportunity this affords for mental improvement — a 

 rare chance to gain that knowledge which shall 

 prepare them for respectability and usefulness in the 

 world. A young man, by the assistance of such 

 books as all can procure, in three or four winters can 

 lay up a stock of knowledge that shall prepare him 

 to act well his part as a farmer and citizen — a 

 knowledge that will give him an influence over 

 less intelligent neighbors, and if rightly used will 

 advance the best interest of the country, and the good 

 of all. 



It is for every young man and every young woman 

 to decide whether this golden opportunity shall be 

 improved — these evenings well spent; or, whether 

 they shall be wasted, or worse than wasted in idle- 

 ness and frivolity. We would not detract from your 

 pleasures — far from it; the pleasures of knowledge 

 surpass any pleasure afforded by the too common 

 amusement of the young. The fields of science afford 

 solid pleasure — they furnish new sources of delight 

 at every onward movement — they are strewn with 

 flowers at every step. The pleasure of science is, 

 perhaps, the only earthly exception to the words of 

 the poet, that, 



'' Each pleasure hath its poison, too." 



In the pages of the Farmer we can only hope to 

 arrest the attention of the youth, and then bid them 

 go on, furnishing them facilities, as far as possible, to 

 help them search for knowledge — ever holding up 

 the encouragement that industry and t=rrsevera:<ce 

 in a right cause ensures success. 



Hints. — When I see a man hanging around the 

 store, shop or taven, or loitering about home, because 

 he has nothing to do, I am apt to think he likes com- 

 pany better than work, and is unwilling to work for 

 what he can earn, that he promises to work for more 

 persons at a time than would be best, and that he 

 could find those in his neighborhood who would be 

 glad to hire him to work, in order to obtain their 

 just demands. I am apt to think, too, that he owes 

 for some pig, bushel of corn, a few pounds of pork, 

 house rent, or some other necessary, which on quar- 

 ter-day will look rather squally. But I am apt also 

 to think, if he becomes punctual in paying these little 

 debts, faithful in his business, not extortionary in 

 his wages, punctual in all his promises, and render- 

 ing himself useful to his employers to the best of his 

 abilities, that he would be apt to find his business on 

 the increase, wages improving, less sauntering, a firm 

 demand for his labor, an increase in his pocket, a 

 sweeter nap at night, a pleasanter wife, and withal — 

 and what is best of all — a clear conscience. — Boston 

 Cultivator. 



Love of Fame. — The love of fame not regulated 

 by principle, is more dangerous to the welfare of so- 

 ciety than the love of money. 



jMrs. Swishelm, of the Pittsburgh Visitor, ha.s 

 written some very fine things. We extract the fol- 

 lowing from her Letters to Cmmtry Girls: — 



'•Well, girls, I know that, let others do as they 

 will, you have to work, for if you do not, you would 

 not be worthy the name of country girls. The drawl- 

 ing concerns who lounge round reading novels, lisp- 

 ing about the fashions and gentility, thumping some 

 poor hired piano until it groans again, and putting on 

 airs to catch husbands, while their mothers are toil- 

 ing and boiling in the kitchen are not often met in 

 the country. This class of girls are generally con- 

 fined to cities; and you would be surprised to know 

 how many of them are here. There are hundreds of 

 girls in every large city who parade the streets in 

 feathers, flowers, silks and laces, whose hands are 

 soft and white as uselessness can make them, whose 

 mothers keep boarders to get a living for their idle 

 daughters. These mothers will cook, sweep, wait on 

 table, carry loads of marketing, do the most menial 

 drudgery, toil late and early, with very little more 

 clothing than would be allowed to a Southern slave, 

 while their hopeful daughters spend their mornings 

 lounging in bed, reading some silly book, taking les- 

 sons in music and French, fixing finery, and the like. 

 The evenings are devoted to dressing, displaying 

 their charms and accomplishments to the the best 

 advantage, for the wonderment and admiration of 

 knights of the yardstick, and young aspirants for 

 professional honors — doctors without patients, law- 

 yers without clients— who arc as brainless and soul- 

 less as themselves. After awhile the piano-pound- 

 ing simpleton captivates a tape-measuring, law-ex- 

 pounding, or pill-making simpleton. The two nin- 

 nies spend every cent that can be raised by hook or 

 by crook —get all that can be got on credit, in broad- 

 cloth, satin, flowers, lace, carriage, attendance, SiC, 

 hang their empty pockets on somebody's chair, lay 

 their empty heads on somebody's pillow, and com- 

 mence their empty life with no other prospect than 

 living at somebody's expense — with no other purpose 

 than living genteelly and spiting their neighbors. — 

 This is a synopsis of the lives of thousands of street 

 and ballroom belles, perhaps some of whose shining 

 costumes you have envied from a passing glance. 

 Thousands of women in cities dress elegantly on the 

 streets, who have not a sufficiency of wholesome 

 food, a comfortable bed, or fire enough to warm their 

 rooms." 



Early Rising. — Are you poor ? you will probably 

 forever remain so, if you habitually waste the precious 

 hours of the morning in bed. Who will seek the 

 labor or services of him who sleeps and dozes in the 

 morning until seven or eight o'clock ? If such a per- 

 son is poor, he must remain poor. " He that would 

 thrive must rise at five." The poor can ill afford to 

 lose daily two or three hours of the best portion of 

 the day. Economy of time and diUigence in business, 

 are virtues peculiarly appropriate to those who de- 

 pend upon their earnings for the means of subsistence. 

 Allowing twelve working hours to a day, he who 

 by rising at eight instead of five o'clock in the morn- 

 ing, thereby loses three hours labor daily, parts with 

 one fourth of his means of supporting himself and 

 family: ten year's labor lost in the course of forty 

 years ! — Boston Cultivator. 



