86 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Feb. 



year it was placed on the list of "promising well," 

 by the American Pomological Society, at New 

 York city. It is a purple or black grape, not un- 

 like the Isabella in appearance, but quite distinct 

 from that variety in foliage and the quality of its 

 fruit. It is more sprightly and vinous than the 

 Isabella, and, having a rich, dark colored juice, 

 would probably make good red wine. It is vig- 

 orous and hardy, requiring no protection, during 

 the severest winters. It ripens three weeks earlier 

 than the Isabella, and on this account would be 

 valuable for the northern section of New England, 

 where the Isabella will not ripen. 



I could write you much more upon the grape 

 culture, and of some interesting experiments in 

 hybridizing, but my article is already long enough. 



I have something, too, to say to the "Farmer's 

 Daughter," who has propounded me two ques- 

 tions. I mean to answer them, hoping in the 

 meanwhile she will have a little patience with me. 



Delaware, Ohio, Jan., 18G1. A. E. Porter. 



li'or the New England Farmer. 

 DESIGNS FOR BUILDINGS. 



Mr. Editor : — I am not an architect myself, 

 neither do I wish to be a critic, but when I see 

 the plan of a building laid down, I always like to 

 follow it out in my mind, to see how it would 

 look when finished. In the plan before me, given 

 in the N. E. Farmer, 22d inst., I find a difficulty 

 in reconciling "its whole with all its parts." Per- 

 haps a little explanation would set me all right. 

 Now the parlor, No 3, 14 feet, the vestibule, No. 

 2, 6 feet, and the dining-room. No. 5, 14 feet, 

 constituting the front part of the house, would be 

 34 feet. If this is to be the length of the house, 

 and let the width go back so as to cover No. 4, 

 and part of No. 6, leaving the balance, togeth- 

 er with the piazza. No. 8, as outside attachments, 

 then we have it 30 by 34, instead of 30 by 36 feet, 

 as first proposed. But if the rooms are intended 

 to be so many feet in the clear, then the thickness 

 of the four walls might make up the other two 

 feet in the length ; but on that supposition, the 

 width having three walls, would require to be 31^ 

 feet. Then if the length is reckoned the other 

 way, including No. 8, and the whole of No. 6, 

 and allowing 4 feet for the length of the passage 

 between No. 6 and No. 5, we have 34 by 36. It 

 seems to me there must be .an inconsistency in it 

 somewhere ; that a man undertaking to build af- 

 ter this pattern, would find himself involved in 

 difficulty. 



It is not so important that the drawing be per- 

 fect, though in any diagram it is pleasing to see 

 each part represented in its true proportion ; but 

 it is particularly desirable that the calculation be 

 scrupulously correct. H, 



Fairhaven, Vt., Dec. 29, 1860. 



Remarks. — If the designs we give cannot be 

 carried out into actual dwellings for us to live in, 

 they are but meretricious ornaments, scarcely pay- 

 ing for the room they occupy. We have no 

 doubt but Mr. Harney, the designer, can give 

 working plans of his designs that will prove to be 

 correct to the "ninth part of a hair." But he is 



not immaculate — may have made a mistake, and 

 will be glad to show "H.," just where it is. "H." 

 will please accept our thanks for his kind criti- 

 cism. 



TELLING THE BEES.* 



BY J. O. WniTTIER. 



Here is the place ; right over the hill 



Runs the path I took ; 

 You can see the gap in the old wall still, 



And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. 



There is the house, with the gate red-barred, 



And the poplars tall ; 

 And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, 



And the white horns tossing above the wall 



There are the bee hives ranged in the sun ; 



And down by the brink 

 Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed o'errun, 



Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. 



A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, 



Heavy and slow ; 

 And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows. 



And the same brook sings of a year ago. 



There's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze ; 



And the June sun warm 

 Tangles his wings of fire in the trees. 



Setting, as then, over Fernside farm. 



I mind me how with a lover's care 



From my Sunday coat 

 I brushed off the burs, and smoothed my hair. 



And cooled at the brook-side my brow and throat. 



Since we parted, a month had passed — 



To love, a year ; 

 Down through the beeches I looked at last 



On the little red gate and the well-sweep near. 



I can see it all now — the flantwise rain 



Of light through the leaves, 

 The sundown's blaze on her window-pane ; 



The bloom of her roses under the eaves. 



Just the same a month before — 



The house and the trees. 

 The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door— 



>fothing changed but the hives of bees. 



Before them, under the garden wall. 



Forward and back, 

 Went drearily singing the chore-girl small, 



Draping each hive with a shred of black. 



Trembling, I listened: the summer sun 



Had the chill of snow ; 

 For I knew she was telling the bees of one 



Gone on the journey we all must go ! 



Then I said, "My Mary weeps 



For the dead to-day : 

 Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps 



The fret and the pain of his age away." 



But her dog whined low ; on the doorway sill. 



With his cane to his chin, 

 The old man sat ; and the chore-girl still 



Sung to the bees stealing out and in. 



And the song she was singing ever since 



In my ear sounds on : 

 "Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence ! 



Mistress Mary is dead and gone !" 



* A remarkable custom, brought from the old century, for- 

 merly prevailed in the rural districts of New England. On the 

 death of a member of the family, the bees wore at once informed 

 of the event, and their hives dressed in mourning. The cere- 

 monial was supposed to be necessary to jjrcvent the swarms 

 from leaving their hives and seeking a new home. 



