106 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



March 



between the -watering trough where he and his 

 companions have fought for freedom all winter, 

 and the pure, running brook by the old willow 

 tree ? The sheep, we can't help imagining, has 

 not quite got over his last impressions of getting 

 his own living — when he was left, late in Novem- 

 ber, to browse out on tlie bleak, barren hill-side, 

 and grind his poor nose down to a point, among 

 the sharp rocks, in search of a bite, which, after 

 all, proved to be nothing but a bramble or a 

 thistle. If he has had an experience of two or 

 three years, he may be looking fearfully forward 

 to the time when the shearers will rob him of his 

 wool again, and leave him shivering, naked in the 

 blast. For he has never heard about the wind being 

 "tempered to the shorn lamb," and therefore can- 

 not bring the consolations of philosophy to his 

 aid. 



Yet even the sheep, stupid, not to say slieepisli, 

 as he looks, must rejoice to feel the warm south 

 wind playing through his "hyacinthine locks," 

 though doubtless his anticipations are much col- 

 ored and marred by the trials heretofore men- 

 tioned, and numerous others with which his mortal 

 state abounds, as fettered limbs, great dogs, 

 &'c., &c. Strange, that an animal so frisky as the 

 lamb, Avhose name has indeed become the very 

 synonym for playfulness — should ever turn out 

 an old sheep. Does not the fact that he can so 

 soon forget his lambhood, go far to show that the 

 cares of life do press heavily upon him ? You call 

 a person a "sheep," and he does not usually feel 

 complimented ; and yet Avhen a mother would yse 

 the strongest expression of endearment for the in- 

 fant on her knee, she says — "little lamb." 



But the most triumphant of all animals is the 

 rooster. Glad are we to hear his "clarion" out in 

 the free air once more. Lord of the manor is he, 

 by an inherent right which no one would think of 

 disputing. That he is weather-wise, is abundantly 

 ])roved by the old stanza, 



"Crow on the fence, 

 The storm's going hence ; 

 Crow on the grounrl, 

 The storm's coming clown." 



[Of course we do not hold ourselves responsi- 

 ble for the rhyme of "ground" and "down."] 



It must hav» beea in consideration of this pe- 

 culiar gift of his, that his efRgy has been so long 

 used as a weather vane, and, in our opinion, 

 nothing so handsome has ever been substituted 

 for it. R,ampant horses, wooden men with 

 swords in their hands, oxen, fishes, arrows, — none 

 of these come up to the mark, like a real old- 

 fashioned weather cock. A\'lien he Avotild foretell 

 Tair weather, how triumphantly he 



"Turns his goWen crest, 



To catch the breezes of tlie West." 



But when a storm is brewing, he switches his 

 long tail-feathers about, and looks defiantly to 

 the north-east, letting the wind and rain beat 

 against his breast Avith unshrinking boldness. 



When a certain barn was burned to the ground, 

 and two unfortunate pigs perished in the flames, 

 a young man was heard to remark that he did not 

 care so much for the property, "but he did hate 

 to see human nater burnt." 



Everybody laughed, but the individual in ques- 

 tion Avas not so very far out of the way, besides 

 showing a sympathizing spirit which did him hon- 

 or. There is, in fact, a great deal of "human na- 

 ter" In animals, as every one may know who will 

 watch their habits and customs. 



Existence should be made much more pleasant 

 to them than it is, for between them and us there 

 is this difference, that while all our suffering is, 

 or may be, disciplinary, and will be more than 

 made up to us hereafter, tJiey suffer without know- 

 ing why, without even being capable of improv- 

 ing by it, and when they die by violence to min- 

 ister to our wants, or perish after a life spent in 

 our service, that, as we suppose. Is the end. They 

 have no reward. Ought not the harmless crea- 

 tures, then, to receive kindness from our hands ? 

 Is the subject beneath our notice ? 



When the world is waking up to life, and an 

 electric thrill of happiness nuis through us, in 

 which all animal and vegetable things seem to 

 sympathize, what an appropriate time to put into 

 practice human resolves ! 



For the New England Farmer. 



FOWL MEADOW GKASS. 



Messrs. Editors : — When I was a boy in my 

 native town, Lancaster, Worcester country, there 

 was a tract of land, lying on both sides of the 

 Nashua River, which had never been cleared, of- 

 fered for sale, which my father bought. He hired 

 help, and cut off a large amount of lumber. On 

 the intervale, there were patches of grass quite ex- 

 tensive, which he called native grass. But at hay 

 time, one of his mowers said it was called "fowl 

 meadow grass," and so named, (as I remember ho 

 said,) because a remarkable fowl was found dead 

 there. I never knew it cultivated, till I reaped off the 

 heads, some fifty-six years ago, which I have often 

 done since. Trying it on different soils and sea- 

 sons of the year, mixed and alone, I esteem it 

 first rate stock hay. Sown on the surface of damp 

 burnt land, it does admirably, and will not run out. 

 If cut late. I will not say that eai'ly cutting kills 

 it, or that it requires the annual dropping of ripe 

 seed ; but, as requested, give my experience. Be- 

 ing tender at first, I sow it alone, and on plowed 

 ground, and only roll it in. Benj. Willard. 



Land Titles in California. — As Illustrative 

 of the deplorable uncertainty of land titles In 

 California, Mr. Greeley says, in one of his letters. 



