i860. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



land is not well drained, it certainly would afford 

 some scope and protection for the roots if under- 

 laid with a liberal bed of stones ; they would tend 

 to a more rapid drainage immediately about the 

 tree, and if the spaces between them were filled 

 with loam, the roots would travel and find supplies 

 there. We cannot see that they would be injiu-i- 

 ous under any circumstances. 



THE ■WITTTEB.S. 



BY FRASCES BEOWNE. 



We did not fear them once — the dull gray mornings 



No cheerless burden on our spirits laid ; 

 The long night-^vatches did not bring us warnings 



That we were tenants of a house decayed ; 

 The early snows like dreams to us descended ; 



The frost did fairy -worli on pave and bough ; 

 Beauty, and power, and wonder have not unded — 



How is it that we fear the winters now? 



Their house-fires fall as bright on hearth and chambers ; 



Their nortlicrn starlight shines as coldly clear ; 

 The woods still keep their holly for December ; 



The world a welcome yet for the new year, 

 And far away in old remembered places 



The snow-drop rises and the ro!)in sings ; 

 The sun and moon look out with loving faces — 



Why have our days forgot such goodly things ? 



Is it now the north wind finds us shaken 



By tempests fiercer than its bitter blast, 

 Which fair beliefs and friendships, too, have taken 



Away like summer foliage as they passed, 

 Aad made life leafless In its pleasant valleys, 



War.ing the liglit of promise from our day, 

 Fell mists meet even iu the inward palace — 



A dimness not like theii's to pass away ? 



It was not thus when dreams of love and laurels 



Gave sunshine to the winters of our youth. 

 Before its hopes had fallen in fortune's quarrels. 



Or Time had bowed them with its heavj- truth — 

 Ere yet the twilights found us strange and lonely. 



With shadows coming when the fire burns low. 

 To tell of distant graves and losses only — 



The past that cannot change and will not go. 



Alas ! dear friends, the winter is within us. 



Hard is the ice that grows about the heart ; 

 For petty cares and vain regrets have won us 



From life's true heritage and better part. 

 Seasons and skies rejoice, yea, worship rather ; 



But nations toil and tremble even as we, 

 Hoping for harvests they will never gather. 



Fearing the winter which they may not see. 



Place for the Address. — The California 

 Farmer, in commenting on the late State Fair, 

 makes the following remarks on this subject : 



"A very great error, we think, was made in hav- 

 ing the address delivered in the Hall of Exhibi- 

 tion. It is impossible to keep an audience of such 

 magnitude still. All do not come to hear speak- 

 ing ; they come to see the fair. They pay their 

 money to see the exhibition ; and it is not possi- 

 ble to keep such an audience quiet. Far better to 

 have speaking in another place. Then, all who 

 wish to liear can go ; and those who wish to see 

 can enjoy what they pay for." 



Pride is a wild beast, which requires costly food 

 — the happiness of its keeper and all around him. 



HOUGH DOCTORS. 



"WTiile on this subject, may I be allowed to ad- 

 vert to the sad, harsh manner in which some med- 

 ical men address their patients, cliildi'en especial- 

 ly. They are too apt to speak to the invalids 

 roughly — too often frightening them. Children 

 are laid hold of in any thing but a gentle manner ; 

 their pulses are felt as if by force ; their mouths 

 forcibly opened for the purpose of examining the 

 tongue, till the child is so alarmed, that it is al- 

 most impossible to judge of the real state of the 

 case, owing to the excitement and crying. Now, 

 surely, this is very wrong. Instead of having, Avith 

 much difficulty, to coax the little one to go to the 

 doctor's, or to allow him to see it at home, it is 

 only right for the medical man to employ all his 

 soothing powers to induce the child to place con- 

 fidence in him ; or, at any rate, he should, by his 

 gentle manner, try to abate fear. It has been, and 

 is at the present day, lamentably common for 

 physicians and surgeons to adopt what is called 

 "the Abernethy manner." Never was there a 

 worse or more injudicious plan. I am not, for a 

 moment, wishing to throw the least slight on so 

 deservedly great and so skilful a surgeon as the 

 late Mr. Abernethy ; but I wish to condemn, and 

 that most strongly, the rough system adopted by 

 so many practitioners, as if rough, coarse beha- 

 vior or manners constituted ability. — My Note- 

 Book ,• or the Sayings and Doings of a London 

 Physician. 



For the New England Fanner. 

 UNDEBDRAINING— THE RESULT. 



Mr. Editor: — In the fall of 1858, I under- 

 drained about two acres of cold, stony upland, at 

 a cost of about $30 per acre. A part of tlie drains 

 were made of stone, which were plenty upon the 

 ground, and a part of drain tile manufactured in 

 our town. The crop of 1858 consisted of two 

 small loads of brakes, with a little grass, and 

 would hardly pay for cutting and taxes. I do not 

 mention interest, as land that pays nothing is 

 worth nothing. 



This spring, I broke it, manured lightly, and 

 planted to potatoes, corn and beans. The crops 

 did well, and at harvest were worth, in our mar- 

 ket, about $100, which paid the $60 invested for 

 draining, and $40 for labor. The land is now 

 worth, at least, $50 per acre. I close by saying 

 that mv experience in farming does not coincide 

 with that of J. T. P.'s. J. R. w. 



Springfield, Ft., Dec. 12, 1859. 



Remarks. — This short story will probably lead 

 to the draining of scores of acres. 



Artesian Wells. — Many of these wells have 

 been made in California, to procure water for ir- 

 rigation. By an article in the California Farmer, 

 it appears that these wells are charged with pro- 

 ducing very serious injury by causing the drying 

 up of mountain streams and other bodies of wa- 

 ter. The editor says, after mentioning by name 

 quite a number of streams, ponds and lakes that 

 have disappeared, "there are scores of mountain 

 streams and lagoons that in the last few years 

 have dried up, and with them the loss of herbage 

 and the pasturage of tens of thousands of stock." 



