490 



:nkW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Nov. 



so well made that the rain will not beat in at 

 some quarter. There are the window-sills all 

 covered with towels to keep the water from the 

 paper on t}ie walls, and the curtains carefully 

 tucked aside, and somewhere, "from garret to 

 baf?ement," there are weak points where the drip- 

 pings v/ill fall on unwary heads, and dark pools 

 will run along the floors, though you may be very 

 certain that Mr. Chip, the carpenter, stopped that 

 leak a month ago. A cold moisture settles on 

 ivcrything you lay your hand upon, and doors 

 open and shut with difficulty, which never stuck 

 before. Then, if ever, one comes to a realizing 

 sense of what Noah and his family must have ex- 

 perienced when "the rain fell upon the earth for- 

 ty days and forty nights." 



But even a November storm has its limits, and 

 when the heavens have wept themselves dry, there 

 come a few days of pale, diluted sunshine, inter- 

 mitting with some of drizzly rain and cold, grey 

 fog, which would penetrate to the bones of a Fal- 

 staff, and finally we are glad to settle down to the 

 good, honest, sturdy cold of December. 



Not, however, till we have celebrated our an- 

 nual feast-day — our passover — our Thanksgiving 

 — that holiday most rational and peculiar of all 

 holidays. There is the "meeting-house," well 

 filled as to the male parishioners, and if there are 

 vacancies at the other end of the pew, the good 

 minister does not feel slighted, for certain afi'airs 

 in the culinary line, at the parsonage, have taught 

 him how to make allov/ances. He docs not feel 

 like being severe on those female members of his 

 flock who obey the apostle's injunction, and, if 

 they wish to know anything, ask their husbands 

 at home ! Still, he preaches an unusually long 

 sermon on this day, the better to show his thank- 

 fulness, and the choir do an unusual amount of 

 singing, and then all disperse to the great festi- 

 val of the day — called dinner. 



And what a similarity the social hoards of 

 the assembly would present to any person who 

 should be empowered to visit them all. In the 

 middle of the table lies the great turkey, who has 

 gobbled his last gobble, and died "a blessed mar- 

 tyr" for his country's good. On one side of him 

 lie a pair of chickens, whose ephemeral lives never 

 looked upon the winter's snow, and on the other 

 side, another pair from the same brood "are 

 baked into a pie." Then, for dessert, there is a 

 plum-pudding, and every kind of pie that the in- 

 genuity of woman can invent. And there are sto- 

 ries from grandpapa, and talk of politics and 

 crops between papa and uncle, and jests and fool- 

 ish conversation among the cousins, and little 

 side-snickerings and whisperings among the chil- 

 dren. And the night closes in with a dance, or a 

 game at blind-man's-buff', mingled with many 

 reminiscences of other Thanksgivings, and a rev- 



erent naming of those who will never more gather 

 with us in our earthly homes. For it is only to 

 children, and very young people, that any anni- 

 versary is entirely without sadness. Yet how 

 these meetings revive and keep alive feelings of 

 brotherly love and interest. How they bring the 

 thoughts into one channel, and by so doing, so- 

 cialize not only families, but neighborhoods. 



And when you, of your abundance, carry a 

 great basket of provisions to your neighbor in 

 her poverty, how is charity promoted in the giver 

 and thankfulness in the recipient ! 



THE LEECH AS A "WEATHEK-GLASS. 



The following curious account is from the Lon- 

 don Farmers' Magazine for July, 1860 : 



The following observations on a leech M'ere 

 made by a gentleman who kept one several years 

 for the above purpose : "A phial of water con- 

 taining a leech was kept in the lower frame of a 

 chamber window, so that when I looked in the 

 morning I could know what would be the weath- 

 er on the following day. If the weather proves 

 serene and beautiful, the leech lies motionless at 

 the bottom of the glass, and rolled together in a 

 spiral form. If it rains before or after noon, it is 

 found to have crept up to the top of its lodging, 

 and there remains till the weather is settled. If 

 we are to have wind, the poor prisoner gallops 

 through its limpid habitation with amazing swift- 

 ness, and seldom rests till it begins to blow hard. 

 If a remarkable storm of thunder and rain is to 

 succeed, for some days before, it lodges almost 

 continually out of the water, and discovers unea- 

 siness in violent throes and convulsive motions. 

 In the frost, as in clear weather, it lies at the bot- 

 tom ; and in snowy, as in rainy weather, it pitches 

 its dwelling upon the very mouth of the phial. 

 The leech was kept in an 8 oz. phial, about three- 

 fourths filled with water. In the supimer the 

 water was changed once a-week, and in winter 

 once a fortnight." 



THE USE OF KAWHIDE. 



How few persons know the value of rawhide. 

 It seems almost strange to see them sell all of 

 their "deacon" skins for the small sum of thirty 

 or forty cents. Take a strip of well-tanned raw- 

 hide an inch wide, and a horse can hardly break 

 it by pulling back — two of them he cannot break 

 any way. » 



Cut into narrow strips and shave the hair off 

 with a sharp knife, to use for bag-strings ; the 

 strings will outlast two sets of bags. Farmers 

 know how perplexing it is to lend bags and have 

 them returned minus strings. 



It will out-last hoop iron (common) in any 

 shape, and is stronger. It is good to wrap around 

 a broken thill — better than iron. 



Two sets of rawhide halters W'ill last a man's 

 life-time — (if he don't live too long.) 



In some places the Spaniards use rawhide log- 

 chains to work cattle with, cut iiito narrow strips 

 and twisted together hawser fashion. It can be 

 tanned so it will be soft and pHable like harness 

 leather. Save a cow and "deacon's pelt" and try 

 it. — William llhodes, in Country Gentleman. 



