142 MY VINEYARD. 



a wide one from your editorial qiiill, and your dealings in 

 politics, in which every one must need engage who is con- 

 nected with the partizan press. I have never disguised 

 tlie estimation in which I hold politics, with its dark and 

 devious ways ; and you know well enough my want of 

 sympathy for those who ex^^erience its tribulations. For 

 me, a political atmosphere is not congenial. I get my fill 

 of it once a year when I go down to the village to put in 

 my vote. It is seldom that the inevitable Jacobs fails to 

 exhibit himself at the grocery corner exj^ounding to Pat- 

 rick's evident gratification, the glorious principles of the 

 Constitution ; being at all times ready to enforce his ar- 

 guments with liberal potations of so-called Bourbon, and a 

 moderate supply of filthy lucre. " And is it no more ye 

 would be after paying me ?" says Patrick ; " wasn't it a 

 half dollar a vote ye gave to me in the auld days of silver ? 

 and isn't it worth twice that now ?" 



The truth is, my friend, the whole slough of politics 

 needs a thorough underdraining, to let oif the stagnant 

 waters, and admit a purer air; this done, ashes and lime, 

 and purifying salt should be applied with a liberal hand. 

 It is possible that by this reclamation, good fruits, though 

 not of the best, may be produced. 



In the farm life there are both prose and poetry ; but 

 both are good. The pure air, and bright skies, and warb- 

 ling birds, and blooming flowers, are not all imagination ; 

 they are real, and he who will may enjoy them. It is a 



