1861. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



365 



lieving that the turnips mature better without 

 their company. He plants his seed as early in 

 April as the land is ready, (the present year from 

 the 15th to the 20th,) and have the plants ready 

 to gather in about two months after planting. 

 Some years he has sold 10,000 bunches, at an 

 average price of six cents a bunch ; the present 

 year he hopes to sell as many. His crops have 

 been annoyed by the maggot, and other injects ; 

 but in preparing them for the market, he rejects 

 all that are in any measure marred or injured in 

 their appearance. He is, in truth, a genuine, 

 honest man, a worthy representative of the good 

 old Puritan deacons ; one that demonstrates his 

 faith by his works ; this is the kind of religion 

 that 1 think worth cultivating. P. 



June 25, 1861. 



LETTER FROM MR, BROWN. 



AMONG THE CORN AND FLOWEKS. 



"For who would sing the flowers of Jujje, 

 Though from grey morn to blazing nooa, 

 From blazing noon to dewy eve, 

 The chaplet of his song to weave. 

 Would find his summer dajlight fail. 

 And hear half told the pleasing tale." 



Auburn, N. II., June, 1861. 

 Gentlemen: — Prompted somewhat by busi- 

 ness, more by affection and a desire to find that 

 aqua vitce, or water of life, M'hich it is said may 

 be found among the crystal lakes and lofty hills 

 of this State, I am spending a few days in this 

 region. Auburn nestles modestly on the banks 

 of a winding stream which connects the Lesser 

 with the Great Massabesic Lake. These lakes 

 are about two miles apart, and the larger of the 

 two, — it being about thirty miles around it, — is 

 one of the most charming of our New England 

 lakes. It is skirted by good farms, has delight- 

 ful shores of white sand, smooth, green pastures, 

 or promontories of rock, or a tangled undergrowth 

 of rank vegetation. It is studded with numerous 

 islands, which are often visited by strangers, or 

 the citizens of the neighboring city of Manches- 

 ter, who have supported a hotel on its westerly 

 shore, and a steamer on its waters. Fine picker- 

 el, perch, and other fish, which may be taken by 

 those who "love virtue and angling," often allure 

 the pleasure-seeking to these islands for a "chow- 

 der" and a "fry." Indeed, all that this modern 

 Auburn needs to give it a name co-existent with 



that 



"Sweet Auburn, lovelicBt village of the plain," 



is the power of the poet's pen. What are the 

 charms of the plain, compared with those of the 

 valley, with its surrounding hills, its sparkling 

 waters, murmuring brooks, busy mills, and hum 

 of industry at every turn ! 



Our ride here was a delightful one. The faith- 

 ful mare, "Nellie," hitched to the "one-horse 

 shay," myself and wife, (may heaven ever bless 

 her,) made up the party. A shower, the night be- 



fore we left old Concord, had suppressed the dust 

 and cooled the road, so that the air was bland and 

 pure, and gave us that delicious exhilaration not 

 to be found under "corks" of the first water, or 

 in the fetid streets of any city. But this bewitch- 

 ing coolness and exhilaration were not all ; some 

 One had preceded us and planted our way with 

 flowers of exquisite hue and perfume. Who could 

 it have been ! Scattered along the roadside, some- 

 times even under the wheels, was the rather flaunt- 

 ing Ox Eye Daisy, or Day^s Eye, (White Weed,) 

 with its open rays, like a man's thought in his 

 hand, where all may see it. In the low places, 

 the Sweet Flag sent up its close ranks, hoisting 

 its purple flowers to contrast with the pale green 

 of its leaves ; while near by, on the higher ground, 

 numerous varieties of the Blackberry, or Bram- 

 bleberry family were glittering with white and 

 delicate flowers. Here they ran over a large 

 rock, covering it with their numerous runners and 

 delicate foliage, and there, a more aspiring mem- 

 ber of the same family nodded his white plumes 

 to us over the wall as we passed along. The ar- 

 omatic Yarrow, not yet quite in bloom, and the 

 Sweet Fern, sent up their delicate odors to the 

 breeze, while the Buttercup on the edge of "the 

 run," vied with its stouter neighbor, the Cowslip, 

 a little lower down and in the pool, spreading out 

 their yellow dresses to the sun, and attracting the 

 attention of the traveller. 



But all this was little, grateful as it was, com- 

 pared to the display "over the wall !" Some un- 

 seen hand had wrought wonders there ! A world 

 of blossoms ! Acres extending beyond acres of 

 the beautiful, sweet clover blossoms, surround- 

 ing us with a delicious fragrance, whether on the 

 hill or in the valley, gracefully bowing their 

 heads, and ever sending forth streams of aroma 

 to man and beast and bird ; and all seemed to 

 appreciate the blessing — for the birds made the 

 air vocal with their tuneful notes, the steed 

 seemed to receive new life, while our hearts 

 burned with grateful emotion, and our lips could 

 not fail to express our thanksgiving and praise. 



There was harmony everywhere. The spicy 

 pines sent their odors to the breeze, which were 

 wafted to the fields in return for the fragrance of 

 the clover blossoms or the new-mown hay. They 

 also "sung a hymn," so perfect in its cadences 

 and chords, that human tongue has never yet 

 equalled it — nor ever will. It was 



"A noise as of a hidden brook. 



In the leafy month of June ; 

 Which to the sleeping woods all night 



Singeth a quiet tune.'' 



So, ambling along in this great flower-garden 

 of Nature, I often thought of the ecstacy of Co- 

 lumbus on first approaching our shores — and felt 

 something of it, too. "I know not," says he, 



