1862. 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



225 



carry on these large operations, but takes a lead- 

 ing part in tlie labor himself, and is, therefore, 

 competent to judge of the value of the tools he 

 uses. While he enjoys the advantages to be found 

 in the use of this Tiorse hoe, he desires that his 

 brother farmers may also reap the same them- 

 selves. 



NEW ENGLAND. 



Home of the good, the brave, the wise, 



Belli youth 3fiA beauty bright. 

 The sun, as on his course he hies, 



Beholds no lovelier sight. 

 Italia's vales with perfume glow 



From every flowery tree, 

 But ne'er those lovely valleys know 



The breath of Liberty. 



Bright beams the sun on Syria's plains, 



Where ancient prophets trod. 

 And held, in Nature's forest fanes. 



High converse with their God. 

 But holier are the hills that bind 



Thy stormy ocean's shore. 

 For there the sacred human mind 



Knows its own strength once more. 



There, in the cottage and the hall, 



As bursts the morning ray. 

 The hymn of praise ascends from all 



To Him who gives the day. 

 There, as the evening sun declines, 



They join in harmless glee ; 

 On all the beam of pleasure shines. 



For all alike are free. 



S. G. BcLFWCn. 



PUNISHMENT OF CHILDREN. 

 In the March number of the Atlantic Monthly 

 the "Country Parson" has a charming little essay 

 on "The Sorrows of Childhood," in the course of 

 'which he makes these remarks : 



An extremely wicked way of punisliing children 

 is by shutting them up in a dark place. Dark- 

 ness is naturally fearful to human beings, and the 

 stupid ghost stories of many nurses make it espe- 

 cially fearful to a child. It is a stupid and wicked 

 thing to send a child on an errand in a dark night. 

 I do not remember passing through a greater trial 

 in my youth than once walking three miles alone 

 (it was not going on an errand) in the dark, along 

 a road thickly shaded with trees. I was a little 

 fellow ; but I got over the distance in half an hour. 

 Pait of the way was along the wall of a chui-ch- 

 yard — one of those ghastly, weedy, neglected, ac- 

 cursed looking spots where stupidity has done 

 •what it can to add circumstances of disgust and 

 horror to the Christian's long sleep. Nobody ever 

 supposed that this walk was a trial to a boy of 

 twelve years old, so little are the thoughts of chil- 

 dren understood. And children are reticent — I 

 am telling now about that dismal walk for the very 

 first time. And in the illness of childhood chil- 

 dren sometimes get very close and real views of 

 death. I remember, when I was nine years old, 

 how every evening, when I lay down to sleep, I 

 used for about a year to picture myself lying dead, 

 till I felt as though the coffin were closing round 

 me. I used to read at that period, with a curious 

 feeling of fascination, Blair's poem, "The Grave." 

 But I never dreamed of telling anybody about 



these thoughts. I believe that thoughtful children 

 keep most of their thoughts to themselves, and in 

 respect of the things of which they think most, 

 are as jirofoundly alone as the Ancient Mariner 

 in the Pacific. I have heard of a parent, an im- 

 portant member of a very strait sect of the Phar- 

 isees, whose child, when dying, begged to be 

 buried not in a certain foul old hideous church- 

 yard, but in a certain cheerful cemetery. Tliis re- 

 quest the poor little creature made with all the 

 energy of terror and despair. But the strait Phar- 

 isee refused the dying request, and pointed out 

 with polemical bitterness to the child that he must 

 be very wicked indeed to care at such a time where 

 he was to be buried, or what might be done with 

 his body after death. How I should enjoy the 

 spectacle of that unnatural, heartless, stupid wretch 

 tarred and feathered ! The dying child was car- 

 ing for a thing about which Shakespeare cared ; 

 and it was not in mere human weakness, but "by 

 faith," that "Joseph, when he was a-dying, gave 

 commandment concerning his bones." 



FUEL. 



It is a common mistake among farmers to burn 

 wood the same year it is cut. Two cords of dry 

 wood will give more heat than three cords in an 

 unseasoned state. 



When the moisture in the burning wood is be- 

 ing evaporated, it has the power of taking up 

 heat ; its own bulk is increased one-five-hundredth 

 part for every degree of heat added, and it travels 

 up the chimney or stove-pipe with the heat. If 

 wood be cut two years before its use, it will be 

 found much more economical ; all the heat will he 

 radiated in the room, or at least a very much lar- 

 ger portion than when it is accompanied by mois- 

 ture. 



When under steam boilers, green wood will not 

 make steam, at least in the boiler, for the heat is 

 used in converting the w|iter of the wood itself 

 into steam ; it passes through the flues into the 

 chimney, without heating the boiler. 



This is true not only of the wood, but also in 

 degree of coal, especially bituminous coal, which, 

 when wet, radiates but little heat, the majority 

 passing up the chimney. Even anthracite coal 

 is capable of holding some water. It should al- 

 ways be carted on a dry day, and placed under 

 cover for winter's use. — Working Farmer. 



Rhubakb Wine. — Messrs. George Skilton 

 & Son, of Charlestown, manufacture a wine from 

 rhubarb which we have tasted on two or three oc- 

 casions, and which we consider an excellent arti- 

 cle for those who need its tonic or other influen- 

 ces. We are informed that it is made and pre- 

 served without the aid of spirit of any kind. The 

 manufacturers have the certificates of several well- 

 known physicians, who state that they have used 

 this wine with very pleasant results in cases of 

 debility and sickness. It is limpid and clear, 

 light-colored, and has a fine, rich flavor. 



Benefit your friends, that they may love you 

 still more dearly ; benefit your enemies, that they 

 may become your fiiends. 



