DEVOTED TO AGRICUTiTUBB AWD ITS KINDRED ABTS AND SCIENCES. 



VOL. XII. 



BOSTON, MARCH, 1860. 



NO. 3. 



NOURSE, EATON & TOLJIAN, Proprietors oTivrmvr TipmAnvr T-nTTr>Tj FRED'K HOLBROOK, ) 



Office.... 34 Merchants' Row. MMUJN iiKOWW, EDITOR. HENRY F. FRENCH, \ 



Associate 

 Editors. 



CALENDAR FOR MARCH, 



The stormy March is come at last, 

 With wind, ami cloud, and changing skies ; 



I hear the gushing of the blast 

 That through the snowy valleys flies. 



Ah '. passing few are they who speak, 

 Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee ; 



Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, 

 Thou art a welcome month to me. — Bryant. 



^Arch, stormy and 

 . changeful as it is, 

 his yet this re- 

 deeming grace — 

 thit it brings with 

 it a promise of 

 something better. 

 Though storms 

 may come with all 

 — the fury and more 

 than the gloom of 

 Dtcember, wc know that win- 

 tei IS dcpaiting, or to use one 

 of those common phrases 

 which have been common 

 principally on account of 

 their expressiveness — "the 

 _ ^ heart of the winter is broken." We, 



^^r'Mfm. of the northern latitudes, have al- 

 ways this advantage over those who 

 dwell in regions of perpetual sum- 

 mer, that all that we have of beauty in climate 

 is heightened a thousand fold by the contrast 

 of a world to all intents and purposes dead, 

 half the year. The few bright sunny days that 

 are vouchsafed to us in ^Nlarch, how beautiful 

 they seem in their sombre setting of clouds and 

 storms and "chilling winds." Every spot of bare 

 ground, from which the sun has thawed away the 

 snow a little prematurely, looks familiar and wel- 

 come as the face of a friend who has long been 

 absent. Even a flock of wild geese flying over, 

 awaken an interest, and their cackling, which is 

 in itself by no means melodious, has a kind of 



music for our ears, for we know when we hear it, 

 they have felt in their downy bosoms that summer 

 is coming, up in the hills and mountains of New 

 England. Something which we call instinct told 

 them so when they were down among the swamps 

 and everglades of Florida, and straightway they 

 packed up, and set off" on their long journey. No 

 man can interpret the guide-book which directs 

 their course, but right through the air they come, 

 looking serenely down upon us, with our rail- 

 roads and telegranhs, and poor attempts at bal- 

 loon-making. 



The pleasure with which we listen to the first 

 croaking of the frog, too, would be incomprehen- 

 sible to one who had never associated it with the 

 loosening of frozen brooks, and the first faint 

 tinge of green on the grass, and the swelling buds 

 of the trees. We are always glad to hear him sing- 

 ing again in the far-off meadow, albeit he sets his 

 tunes in a minor key, and sings them in the pen- 

 sive twilight. 



Probably all animais have premonitions of re- 

 turning summer. It is certain that all wild ani- 

 mals do, for they plan their work, and make their 

 preparations for a new mode of life with as much 

 discrimination as man himself. Our domestic an- 

 imals, being dependent on us for their support, do 

 not lay their plans in the same way, and yet wc 

 seem to see in them a new element of lazy con- 

 tentment, or sportive joy, which just as plain- 

 ly expresses their approbation of the change that 

 is gradually coming over the face of nature. ^ 



For example, look at that ox, as he stands look- 

 ing out of the barn door, or in the sunny corner of 

 the yard, chewing his cud in a meditative mood. 

 Don't you see plainly written on his countenance 

 that he is thinking of the "better days a coming," 

 when he shall roam through the pastures at will, 

 helping himself in the natural way to a splendid 

 feast of green grass, instead of eating dxy hay- 

 pitched at him with a fork, by the farmer's boy ? 

 Don't you see that he is instituting a comparison 



