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NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



Dec. 



For the New England Farmer. 



AN" AUTUMNAL DAY. 



"The melancholy days have come, 



The saddest of the year — 

 Of wailing winds and naked woods, 



And meadows brown and sere." — ^Brtawt. 



Thus plaintively and beautifully sings one of 

 our most valued American poets. Who that has 

 spent a week in the country at this beautiful twi- 

 light of the year, when all nature is dressed in the 

 varied colors of the rainbow, and is breathing forth 

 inspiration from hill-side and valley, woods and 

 mountains, can fail to join with the poet in sing- 

 ing— 



"The melancholy days have come, 

 The saddest of the year." 



This is the season when it is well for the mer- 

 chant to leave his store, the professional man his 

 study, and the mechanic his shop, and, taking a 

 walk over the brown fields, and through the va- 

 riegated woods, to listen to the voices of nature as 

 she proclaims them in the falling leaf, the fading 

 flowers and the departing birds. 



Our joy is different from that experienced in 

 midsummer. Who can gaze upon an old, desert- 

 ed homestead, where once the voices of happi- 

 ness and merriment resounded, and one where a 

 ha]3py family once dwelt, united together, and 

 not feel a melancholy that rarely comes over the 

 soul at any other time ? 



In autumn we miss the fragrance of the lovely 

 flowers, and the singing birds, but are not pleas- 

 ures and enjoyments found both within and with- 

 out, that belong peculiarly to this season of the 

 year ? Do not, then, remain housed at this season, 

 weeping over the "Last rose of summer," and the 

 sudden departure from your garden of some favor- 

 ite bird, that has been gaining your affection by 

 his confidence and his songs, but go up and down, 

 and you will find new pleasures that present them- 

 selves on every side, and offer to your mournful 

 spirit sweet consolation for the departed joys of 

 summer. 



How very clear and bracing is the air. Let It- 

 aly boast of her sunny skies and mild atmosphere, 

 I think nothing can excel the weather wc have in 

 some days of early autumn. Now, far distant ob- 

 jects can be distinguished, that have long been en- 

 wrapped in obscurity. The summer flowers that 

 smiled on us in our summer walk, are, for the 

 most part, faded and gone, — but the golden rod 

 is still growing along the edges of the walls and 

 the wayside ; these still greet the eye as we look 

 over the brown fields, and their presence assures 

 us tl)at winter is not yet upon us. The tall and 

 stately sun-flowers still nod their heads in the pass- 

 ing breeze, in the corners of the garden, as if de- 

 fying the cold and frost that have laid their kin- 

 dred low. And now and then a modest little vio- 

 let peeps forth from beneath the leaves that have 

 almost covered it. In the summer, we jiassed 

 these flowers by unheeded, in the dazzling array 

 of beauty that met us at every step, but we now 

 welcome their i)resence, as one turns to the friends 

 that do not flee at the approach of triluilation. 



Most of the birds have departed on flieir annual 

 journey, while others are preparing to follow, and 

 are daily seen drilling their forces for the sunny 

 South. As the cold approaches, their numbers 

 lessen, whilst occasionally is heard the short, im- 



patient twitter of some bird who is fearful he is 

 left behind his brothers. 



The stuixly husbandman is busy in gathering in 

 the fruits of his labors. All is busy activity in 

 storing up the fruits of the eai'th for the coming 

 winter. How still the woods are. I only hear 

 the distant, happy laugh of little children, who are 

 out a nutting, and the cheerful chirrup of the in- 

 dustrious squirrel, who is laying in his stock of 

 provisions for the coming winter. Loads of the 

 bright and golden corn are on the way to the barn, 

 and the old cider-mill is merry with the voices of 

 those who are engaged in the pleasant task of 

 making cider. Occasionally is heard the whistling 

 of the wind, as it sweeps over the deserted corn- 

 field and harvested fields, which reminds us of the 

 gleaming fireside, of pleasant conversation, crack- 

 ing of nuts and sparkling cider. The cattle roam 

 over the sere fields, or He basking in the warm 

 sunshine of noonday, on the lee side of the walls, 

 and as they wend their way homeward at nightfall, 

 they cast lingering looks to the well-filled barns, 

 from which their wants will be supplied, when the 

 cold weather and frozen ground cuts off" their sub- 

 sistence in the pastures. 



How splendid the woods look now, dressed in 

 their gorgeous colors ! What can be more splen- 

 did ? Every color and hue imaginable is here 

 represented. But they are too beautiful long to 

 last, and soon the wind will strip them from the 

 tree where they have made ])leasant shade and 

 shelter to the flocks and the passing traveller. 

 The days are growing shorter, and the farmer has 

 now less hours to labor in the field, and more to 

 spend by his own fireside with his family, and in 

 social conference with his neighbors. Everything 

 about us denotes glad fruition. The gathered 

 crops, the merry husking, the fattening swine, all 

 suggestive of the end of the labors, excite grate- 

 ful emotions in the heart of the husbandman. 

 How happy is the man who can look with pleasure 

 on his past labors of the fields and the garden, 

 and forward to a season of comparative rest, when 

 he can improve his mind and lay his plans for the 

 ensuing year. That sucli is the happy lot of many 

 of the subscribers of the N. E. Farmer, is the sin- 

 cere wish of Freeman. 



THE CHECK EEIN, 



Who beside the British use the check rein, sav- 

 ing their general imitators, the Americans ? The 

 French do not use it, the Germans do not, the 

 Indians and Spaniards of South America, who 

 literally live on horseback, and are perfect horse- 

 men, do not, the Spaniards of Europe do not, nor 

 do the Turks. Tiie most observant and most nat- 

 ural people in the world are free from this error. 

 It is strange to us, that the English and ourselves 

 tlid not, years and vears ago, reason upon the 

 constantly witnessed fact that when a check rein 

 was loosed at a tavern-stooj) or in a stalile, the 

 ])oor horse always stretched out his neck and 

 hung down his head. That was his language for 

 saying that the strap hurt and wearied him. and 

 that he was heartily glatl to be relieved from it. 



The genius that first ]iroposed the mechanical 

 feat of lifting himself u]i by the breeches, must 

 have been the author of the theory that the 

 check-rein held the horse u]) and kept him from 

 falling. The mechanical action in the two cases 



