828 



NEW ENGLAND FARIVIER 



APRIL 19, 183». 



S-^IS^SilSi! 



THE TIMES. 



BY J. G. WlllTTlER. 



" Oil dear ! Oh dear ! t grieve, I grieve 

 For the good old days of Admn and Eve." 



The limes — the times — I say the times are getting 



worse tlian ever. 

 The good old way our fathers trod shall grace ihcir 



children never — 

 The homely liearth of honest mirth — the tr.nces Of 



their plough — 

 The places of iheir worshipping are all forgotten now. 



Farewell the farmer's honest looks, and independenc 



. mien, 

 The tassel of liis wavering corn — the blossom of tlje 



bean. 

 Tlie turnip top, the pumpldn vine — the produce or his 



toil, 

 Have given place to flower pots, and plants of foreign 



soil. 



Farewell, the pleasant husking night — its merry after 



scenes, 

 \Vhen Indian pudding smoked beside the giant pot of 



beans. 

 When ladies joined the social band, nor once affected 



fear. 

 Cut gave a pretty cheek to kiss for every crimson ear. 



Affected modesty was not the least of virtues then. 

 And few took pains to swoon away at the sigiil of ugly 



men — 

 For well they knew the purity, which woman's life 



should own. 

 Depends not on appearances, but on the heart alone. 



Farewell to the buoyancy and openness of youth — 

 The confidence of kindly hearts — the consciousness 



of truth, 

 The natural tone of sympathy — the language of the 



hejirt — 

 Now curbed by fashion's tyranny or turned aside by 



art. 



Farewell the jovial quilting match — the song and 



merry play, 

 Tlie whirling of a pewter plate — the many pawns to 



pay. 

 The mimic marriage brought about by leaping o'er the 



Broom — 

 The good old play of Blindman's buff— the laugh that 



shook the ruotn. 



Farewell the days of industry — tlie time hath glided 



When pretty hands were prettiest at making pumpkin 



pie — 

 When waiting maids were needed not, and morning 



brought along 

 The music of the spinning wheel, the milk maid's 



careless son*;. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Ah ! days of artless innocence — your dwellings are no 



more — 

 And we are turning from the path, our lathers trod of 



yore — - 

 The homely hearth of honest mirth — the ir.aces of 



the plough, 

 The places of their worshipping, are all forgotten now 



AN EXCEL.1.EBIT BOOK. 



Living on other Pkoplk's MslAns. — The His- 

 tory of Simon Silver, is tlio title of a |uiniplilet, 

 |)iiblished by VVeek«, Jordun fc (^o., at the Litcf- 

 ary Kooiiis, 121 Wasliiiigton street. It contains 

 an entertaining and in.stnictive tale ; and is par- 

 ticularly (ieservint^ the attention of all, whose oc- 

 cupations are of an agricnltnral natnre. The ein- 

 liarrassinont of trade, the scarcity and liigli ]irice 

 of provisions, and a worltl full of petty vexations 

 and serious calamities, are, in this well intended 

 and well e-xeetited tract, tittrihnted to the neglect' 

 of agriculture, a calling which is Ihe source of all 

 individual as well as national prosperity. "The 

 cause of the greatest evils of these untoward times," 

 says the writer, "is, tiittt the land in Massachusetts 

 is not half cultivated. There certainly is no want 

 of productive soil in this Cotrimon.wealth. There 

 is land enotigh, if projierly tilled, to support more 

 than twice the population of the Htate Yes, land 

 enough to produce every article of provision nec- 

 essary for the support of more than twice the 

 numher of inhahitants of the State. Why then 

 should we he forced to import from other States, 

 and even from foreign countries, the very staff of 

 life .' Why is it that many of the middling clas- 

 ses of the cotninnnity should find themselves suh- 

 jected to actual hardship and privation, while the 

 poorest of the people are almost starving ? Why 

 should Massachusetts, by the neglect ot cgricul- 

 turo, subject herself once in three or four years 

 at least, and sometimes oftener, to the necessity 

 of contributing to the gains of great monopolists 

 of provisions in other states, when she has within 

 her own borders the means of sustaining her own 

 children ? 



"The answer is an obvious one. It is because 

 her citizens are too ambitions and a:3piring to con- 

 tent themselves with the primitive occupations of 

 their forefathers. It is becajso the people in the 

 country covet the luxury of the city. SJecause it 

 is by many lookeil upon as vulgar to cultivate the 

 soil. Because manu.-d labor is rccUonetl a dis- 

 grace. Hence it is tlnil the sons of our fanners 

 desert their homes, where they might remain con- 

 tented aiidchciuful with the home-spun enjoy- 

 ments and liibors of a country life." &c. 



The story of Simon Silver is well told ; its in- 

 cidents are such as well might be anticipated from 

 a rustic sharper, who. instead of being governed 

 by the principle that " honesty is the best jiolicy," 

 was actuated by 



" That low cunning, which in fools supplies, 

 And amply loo, the place of being wise." 



The author appears to be well acquainted with 

 country affairs, as well as with city life, and his 

 little narrative is replete with matter which com- 

 bines utility with amusement, in a manner which 

 must make it accepttible as well as valuable to 

 all who are solicitous to make the pen and the 

 press subservient to the best interests of man- 

 kind. 



Parable of the Slaiden and (he Tulip Bulb. 



O.NE fine morninsf in iM-'rch, a young maiden 

 took from her drawer a tulip b.ilb whidi she had 

 received from her brother, who delighted in the 

 symbols which nature affords ns. She went in- 

 to her garden to plant it in the earth. A whle 

 , she c.\aniiiicd the pretty roundness of its shape 



then diggeil a hole in the soft earth, to receive the 

 embryo plant and flower. 



But suddenly the Bulb exclaimed with mani- 

 fest terror and entreaty in its tones, " I'retty mai- 

 den, bury me not, I implore thee, in li.e <lark, cold, 

 damp ground, where I shall lie in sorrow and sad- 

 ness, with no companions but the moles who will 

 devour me. Rather let me remain forever with 

 you : there I can see the light and fee! the warmth. 

 Do not bury me so cruelly in the ground." 



" Pretty Bulb," said the damsel, as she paused 

 kindly and stayed her hand, " Inment not that I 

 deprive you of the kindly shelter you have enjoy- 

 ed, and consign you to the earth. The time of 

 yonr slumbering there will be short. True, it 

 is cold, but in a few days the sun will enliven the 

 world with its ray.«, your heart will be gladdened 

 by its warmth, and yon will rise cut of the dark- 

 ness into the light ; out of the close and t.'upleas- 

 ant mould you will shoot upwards in the bounti- 

 ful air; and from the very dampness which you 

 dread, you will derive strength. No longer a root, 

 you will shine as the queen of the Rowers of spring. 

 The lark will salute you in the morning ; tlie but- 

 terfly will beg a new charm to bestow upon his 

 wings, ami the bee, active and cheerful, will come 

 and solicit your favors while the dew is still fresh 

 in your bosom." 



The Bulb was satisfied. It said no more, but 

 the smile of faith was upon it. in a few weeks 

 I passed by the garden. The humble bulb now 

 lifted up its many colored head upon the top of 

 its graceful stalk. It was just expanding its glo- 

 ries to welcome the May-day sun. 'Ihe lark went 

 far lip among the clouds to tell hitn of the present 

 which awaited his coming, 'j'lie early bee mi!r- 

 imired forth his gr.-cteful song to the happy fli w- 

 er, and a chorus of butterflies filled the air with 

 their piaiscs. 



Thus they sang, as they flew. round and round, 

 in the perfumed atmosphere that the happy plant 

 breathed forth. 



" Blessed art thou, oh flower, and double thy 

 joy. Thy beauty and thy bliss, are all the re- 

 ward of thy faith. The earth is dark and unlove- 

 ly, but beauty springs out of its bosom. The ground 

 is cold and damp, but thy fiiith has triumphed, 

 and now thou art I'ree, now thou art blessed ! — 

 Thy faith is triumphant, and thou art all bliss!" 

 — Sundatj School Teacher. fff 



I'HK NE-IV ENGLAND FARHIEK 



Is published every VVcdncs^day livening, ai )iii per annum, 

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AGENTS. 



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B>-tl'Jmore — Publisiicr of Anu-rican Farniet. 



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Midillelinry, \'t. — Wight ('Hirin .v. .Mercl,niit 



Taunton, iMass. — Sam'l O. Ocnbar, Hooksoljcr. 



hkirtforil — Gooiiw IN 'itj. Vu, Jlookseliers. 



Newliuryport — EnKNF.ZKli Stkuaian, HooKseiler. 



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St. Louis — H.fj. Hoffman, and \Vi I.MS tV .Stkvens. 



PItlNTED BY 

 TUTTLE. DENNETT iSt CHISHOLM. 



Schettl .'-"trect. 

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