224 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



May 



a traitor "i<7(0 poisons the King's la7ids ivith 

 weeds, and introduces i7Uo them a host of 

 enemies." 



But ck-anslng the roadsides and separaling 

 seeds by the seller will not aceoniplLsh the 

 good work so long as weeds are thrown upon 

 the manure heap. Their seeds are as tena- 

 cious of life as are roots of the chiecory plant, 

 which we have cut six to ten times in a season 

 for ten successive years, and in the following 

 spring fi>und it coming through the grass sod 

 as though its head had never been decapitated ! 



The moment weeds are pulled they should 

 be collected and burnt. If left to wilt upon 

 the gi'ound the plant will exert all its powers 

 to pel feet its seeds, and many of them will be 

 so perfected as to start another crop. 



The loss to the farmer by weeds choking 

 his crops, depriving tJiem of nourishment, and 

 exhausting the soil, with the amount of labor 

 eventually recpiired for their extirpation, 

 would be absolutely incalculable. 



The i>erson who sells seeds is inexcusable 

 if he jKii-ts with them in mixed or unsound 

 condition. It is not a valid excuse that he 

 supposed they were good. lie is as much 

 bound to know that they were not mixed, as 

 is the maker of the mowing machine to know 

 that the wood and iron of which he constructed 

 it was of good quality. He can know this, 

 because machines are at hand which will 

 readily separate a dozen different kinds of 

 seeds, and at the same time place most un- 

 sound ones by themselves. 



If this is not done by dealers, ten or a 

 dozen farmers should conibine and purchase 

 one of Adams' mills — or some other, if a better 

 one can V)e found, — for winnowing grain and 

 .separating seeds. A single machine would do 

 the work recjuired for twenty farms, at least. 

 In a single bushel of rye-grass seed no less 

 than 204,800 weed seeds were found ! In a 

 bushel of clover seed, 312,000, and this irre- 

 spective of dirt and particles of stone, which 

 make cheap seed by far the dearest that can 

 be purchased. 



Our experience with weeds reminds us of 

 the story of the fifty daughters of Danaus, 

 among the heathen gods. All were married, 

 and with a single exception, all killed their 

 husbands ! For this great impiety they were 

 condenmed to dra^ water out of a deep well, 

 and fill a tub that was full of holes, where the 



water ran out as fast as it was put in, so that 

 they were tormented with a. ])er])ctual and un- 

 profitable labor. 



Our doom is a similar one. We weed, 

 and groan over the labor, and then sow the 

 seed for future crops ! Of what "great im- 

 piety" we are guilty to suffer such a doom of 

 p>erpetual and unprofitable labor, who can 

 tell? 



From the Voutb's Companion. 

 QKANDFATHER'S BARW. 



O don't you remember our graiififather's barn, 



Where our cousins and we met to play ; 

 How we climbed on the beams and the scaflbld bo high, 



Or tumbled at will on the hay; 

 How we sat in a row on the bundles of straw, 



And riddles and witcli stories told, 

 While the sunshine came iu through the cracks at the 



south, 

 And turned all the dust into gold ? 



How we played hide-and-seek in each cranny and nook, 



^\lierevir a child could be stowed ; 

 Then we made us a coach of a hogs-head of rye, 



And on it to ''Boston" we rode ? 

 And then we kept store, and sold barley and oats, 



And corn by the bushel or bin ; 

 And straw, for our sisters to braid into hats, 



And flax, for our mothers to spin. 



Then we played we were biddies, and cackled and 

 crowed, 



'Till grandmother in haste came to see 

 If the weasels were killing the old speckled hen. 



Or whatever the matter might be. 

 How she patted our heads when she saw her mistake, 



And called us her sweet "chicken-dears !" 

 Wliile a tear dimmed her eye as the picture recalled 



The scenes of her own vanished years. 



How we tittered and swung, and played meeting, an 

 school. 



And Indian, and soldier, and bear? 

 While up on the rafters the swallows kept house. 



Or sailed thrduijh the soft Summer air. 

 How we lontrcd to peep into their curious nests 



But they were too far overhead ; 

 So we wished we were giants, or winged like the birds. 



And then we'd do wonders, we said. 



And don't you remember the racket we made 



W^J,en selling at auction the hay ; 

 And how we wound up with a keel-over leap 



From the scaffold down into the bay ? 

 When we went in to sui)per our grandfather said, 



If he had not once been a boy, 

 He should thought that the Hessians were sacking tlie 

 town. 



Or an earthquake had come to destroy. 



How the j'cars have gone on since in grandfather's barn 



To play with our cousins we met? 

 Our eyes have grown dim and our locks have turnefl 



The golden, the brown, and the jet. 

 Yet still in my heart there's an evergreen nook. 



Where childhood's sweet memories stay; 

 And no mu.-^io to me has a charm that can thrill. 



Like the voices of children at play. 



FARMING A "LIBERAL PROFESSION." 



In his address to tlic late graduating class of the 

 Massachusetts Medical College, Rev. E. E. Hale 

 said, — 



"I am to try to illustrate those distinctions which 

 separate what in£n call a crnft or a trade from what 

 they used to call and ought to call a liberal pro- 

 fession. * * * The simplest distiuctiou between 



