o. 



8. 



AND GARDENER'SJOURNAL. 



127 



.d ihe slpnch nrisiiig from them hnJ infrcted the re- 

 aiiulor, 80 that the cattle reiused to eat thcni. 

 Frank. — How satifsL-torily you have accounted for 

 e decay and death of our favorite tree I what a pity 

 nt you could not have ascertained the cause during 

 3 life time, as it might eo easily have been prevented, 

 I dividing that small root from the body of the tree I 

 t'uther. — Truly; but the lesson has not been lost 

 jon us, for you know that I have recovered many 

 ees that have been infected with the yellows and 

 orms, by trenching and dressing the water with 

 me, and removing the bad soil from amongst the 

 018. And now, do you know any young and prom- 

 ing individual, whose untimely death might be li- 

 ened to the decay and death of our favorite tree ? 

 Fninli. — Yes, Henrv Tenmleton. 

 Father. — Exactly — of an excellent and highly-res- 

 cted family, he was the brightest hope — an only eon 

 -with a mind and body cost in beauty's mould, he 

 as truly " the observed of all observers:" even in 

 . misery his education had commenced; and the 

 If ijm displayed by his amiable parents in this partic- 

 ar, was crowned with perfect success. His youth 

 as spent in acquiring knowledge of the most useful 

 id valuable kinds; and the commencement of his 

 iblic life, which might be compared to the planting 

 It of our tree from the nursery, was hailed by his 

 ends with the brightest expectations. We well 

 low the esteem and respect which he won from all 

 ho knew him, while his gentle and amiable, and re- 

 led manners were the admiration of every one. I 

 member the time when he commenced the study of 

 e law under counsellor S., and how fortunate his 

 riily considered him in the choice of his fellow-stu. 

 nt, Charles E., as his particular friend — alas I that 

 ry circumstance proved the total ruin of him, and 

 e hopes of his family; for Charles E. was a young 

 an addicted to every species of vice and wickedness, 

 id possessed of the most consummate hypocrisy ! — 

 le fatal evening he prevailed upon Henry to accom- 

 ny him to the gaming-table, and his destruction 

 as sealed. 



In a short year from this time he returned to his fa- 

 8 house, an emaciated being — his health destroy- 

 , his mind frenzied, and in the last stage of con- 

 niption, only to sigh out his soul in penitence in the 

 018 of his broken-hearted parents and sisters ! Poor 

 enry Templeton I one small root penetrating to the 

 ison in the subsoil, was the cause of indescribable 

 ffering, misery, remorse, anguish, and death to him- 

 f, and distress unspeakable to his tenderly attached 

 nily, and a numerous circle of young and much- 

 ed friends. 



Frank. — Poor Henry Templeton 1 who would have 

 jught that we could find so true a portrait of him in 

 r beautiful and unfortunate peach tree ! 

 Fatlicr. — But here is one more soil for examination. 

 No. 10. 1 1 is, to appearonce, a happy mixture, ond 

 the highest state of cultivation; but the tree which 

 planted in it makes no progress. It is not diseased, 

 t can scarcely be called healthy; it blossoms in sea- 

 l, but does not seem to put forth energy sufficient to 

 ng its fruit to perfection; and although when pro- 

 ced it is fair to the eye, it has little flavor, and soon 

 riehes. Its shoots are not deformed, nor do they 

 juire much pruning; but the foliage has a weak and 

 ider appearance, although it cannot be denominated 

 :kly. Its bark is thin ond clean; and its foliage 

 ea not fall or change color prematurely, but it makes 

 progress — there is no strength in its growth, and 

 t there is no sensible defect — an ornamental tree, but 

 very little value, although of the choicest Iriiit-bear- 

 ^ species. 



Frank. — Why, what can be the matter with the 

 je then ? 



Father. — Nothing — the matter is in the soil, which 

 a been too highly manured, and made light and po- 

 U8 by such frequent dressings — in fact this tree 

 ight be compared to a rich, indolent, unemployed 

 ung man, eaten up with ennui! no disease, but no 

 talth — no pain, but no pleasure — with energy suffi- 

 ;nt to put forth a blossom, but not enough to bring 

 to perfection — no fear of dying, but no hope ot liv- 

 g — blameless, but praiselesg— does no harm, nor any 

 lod, and may as well be dead as alive ! 

 Frank. — Well, I would not be a gentleman if I could, 

 at how would you set about curing such a nameless 

 sease ? 



Father. — / would try it with affliction. I would 

 €n the ground about the roots, amputate some t f 

 em, and mix clay and lime with fresh strong loam 

 r filling in; and then I would prune close and hard, 

 mding the branches pretty close to the body of the 

 !, and await the result with confidence. 



Frank. — Well, these would he pretty hard lines, as 

 Grnbb says. 



Father. — Yes, but I have known many such char- 

 aeterewho had abundant cause to exclaim, " It is good 

 for me that I have been afflicted." You know ibcrc 

 is the eon of old Judge Thomson, who, while his 

 wealth remained with him, has often complained of the 

 trouble of eating, and could not bear the idea of 

 walking abroad, even on the score of health: was 

 charitobly disposed, butcouid not prevail upon himself 

 to use the leost exertion, even were it to save a fellow 

 creature from starving: it is even said, that, when in 

 a passion with his servants, he has declared that he 

 would kick them if it were not so much trouble I — 

 But the fire which destroyed his wealth, purified and 

 sanctified his soul; — he is now happy because he is 

 industrious; cheerful because usefully employed; ond 

 finds it no poinful exertion to walk miles to render 

 assistance to a suffering neighbor. He is now rich in 

 good works and sound bodily health; and often ex- 

 claims "It is good for me that I have been afllicted I" 



Let us close by reading Dr. Drennan's beautiful 

 hymn, 



THR FRVITS OF BENEVOLENCE. 

 The iiusbandman goes fortli .i-rleld, 



AVJmt hopes iiis heart exp.ind ! 

 What calm delight his labors yield, 

 A liarvest from his hand ! 



Ttic nobler husbandry of mind, 



And culture of llic heart — 

 Shall such with men less favor find? 



Less genuine joy impart? 



Ah 1 no — your goodness strikes a root, 



Which dies not, nor decays -, 

 And future life shall yield the fruit. 



That blossoms now, in praise. 



The youthful hopes, which now expand 



Their green and tender leaves, 

 Shall spread a plenty o'er the land. 



In rich and yellow slieavcs. 



Thus, a small bounty well bestow'd 



May perfect heaven's higli p Ian ; 

 First daughter to the love of God, 



Is charity to man. 



'Tis he, who scatters blessings round, 



Adores bis Malcer best I 

 His walk through life is mercy-crowned. 



His bed of death is peace. J. P. 



Bliuders upon Horses. 



Is there any real use in having blinds or blinders 

 upon the bridles of carriage horses ? We doubt ex- 

 ceedingly if there need be, provided, nevertheless, as 

 the lawyers say, the horses are trained as they ought 

 to be in the beginning. We have known horses that 

 would travel os well without as with them, and we 

 believe much better. We have no doubt that nine- 

 tenths of the springing and starting of horses upon the 

 road is owing to their being hood winked with those 

 pads over their eyes, leaving only a small space to 

 peep out, and that too not in the direction of true vis- 

 ion. Objects cannot appear distinct and natural when 

 thus seen, and what wonder is it if they start when 

 they discover what to them appears, in consequence of 

 the indistinctness with which it is seen, some strange 

 monster. Horses will run day after day in the pasture 

 among rocks and stumps, without betraying the least 

 fear, but when in horness will "shy" whenever they 

 pass by one of those same rocks and stumps Some- 

 times we meet with a horse that is partially blind or 

 near sighted, and these almost invariably start and ore 

 skittish. Instead of "blinders," such horses should 

 have nothing over their eyes, or spectacles to improve 

 their optics. There are many other improvements to 

 be macle upon harness. 



We load horsess too much with trappings. One 

 quarter of the expense is incurred for useless straps 

 and buckles and buttons. The more light and simple 

 harness can be made compatible with strength and re- 

 al use the better it is, and the more ornamental it will 

 be. We need all the strength of the horse to draw 

 the load, instead of bearing up o useless burden of lea- 

 ther and metal. — Maine Farmer. 



Presen'iug Green Peas. 



Now is the time for those who like a good thing in 

 the winter, to lay up a store of green peas. If shelled 

 ond put into a dry bottle and corked perfectly tight, 

 (sealed.) they may be kept until winter with ease. — 

 They should be cooked as soon as the bottle is opened, 

 as they will not keep well after the air comes to them. 



We have been told by o person who has traveled 

 in Germany, that the Germans preserve green peas by 

 shelling them and putting them into a pickle made of 

 salt and water. In the winter they are taken out, 

 soaked until fresh, ond cooked. Beans in the pod ore 

 are also preserved, pods and all, by cutting them into 

 pieces and pickling them in the same way. — lb. 



Ilnin. 



The largest drops of rain, which ore obout one fifth 

 of an inch in diameter, will fall 2,040 feet in a min- 

 ute; but the ordinary drops in this climate will seldom 

 fall half 80 fast. Hail-stones in the south of Europe, 

 having sometimes the enormous diameter of two inch- 

 es, will fall with a velocity of 118.^ feet in a second, 

 or more than o mile and a quarter in a minute; a rapid- 

 ity of stroke which destroys cornfields and ravages 

 vineyards. 



The Mahogany Tree in St. Domingo, is tall, 

 straight and beautiful, 'with red flowers, ond oval lem- 

 on sized fruit. When the tree grows on a barren soil, 

 the grain of this wood is beautifully variegoted — upon 

 rich ground it is pole, open, and of little value. 



It is stated by the Mayor of Boston, that one-fifth o 

 the taxation of the city goes to the public schools. 



Rural Melodies. 



BY BEN BARLEYCORN. 



6ay, do you love the music of the farm, 

 Sweet melodies of nature, that can charm 

 The very soul— ay, hold control 

 O'er all the feeling, and toman impart 

 The best affections of a grateful heart ? 



Then come with me; list to the cheerful songs. 

 The coral anthems of the fcather'd throngs. 

 We hear the fay— from every spray. 

 Along the hill-tops — o'er the fiowery lawn. 

 And merry music hails the breaking dawn 1 



Up mounts the curlew, trilling through the air ; 

 And hark ! we hear tlie cherry lark, loo, there. 

 The soaring kite— in giddj- heigJit, 

 Sends forth his piercing note, load, shrill, and clear. 

 And cackling fowls to covert scud with fear. 



The solitary cat-bird and the thrush. 

 On towering pine or shady alder bush, 

 Now strain their throats — in comic notes ; 

 While on the osier bough or 'midst the fern, 

 The black-bird and the sparrow sing in turn. 



Sweet robin ; no\v from yon old apple tree, 

 Thou wprblest forth thy song most merrily 1 

 From morn to night — 'tis thy delight. 

 Thy fond, endear'd and sitting mate to please 

 And entertain with thy own melodies. 



Like jingling school-bell, screams the noisy jay. 

 As off she flies far to ths copse away. 

 The whistling quails — athw.irt the vale, 

 Call^utiJoS Wliite! then skulks along the glen, 

 Avoiding all society witlimen. 



The blue-bird, goldfinch, martin, swallow, wren, 



The carolers of forest, field and (en. 



Sweet turtle dove— who sings of love. 



The twilight minstrel too, lone whip-poor-will, 



These with their canzonets the hamlet fill. 



But there is one whose note out-does the whole, 

 'Tis so diverting and so very droll ; 

 Pertbob-a-link — 1 hcirthy clink, 

 .iUa-cfipeUa-cantaljiU-chickopce-nibble-O-nihhIe- 



O-tintinnuhulo-chcerilij-cheerily-sueet .' 

 What birdin jabber can Willi thee compete? 



Here herds are lowing, there the sporting lambs 

 Are frisking gay, or bleating for their dams. 

 The rampant hounds— pursue Iheir rounds; 

 Their yelping music makes the welkin ring. ^^^ 

 And frightened conies lo their couches spring. ^^ 



The torrent rumbles down its rugged way. 



And streamlets murmur thro' the blooominglay. 



The wavy trees — creak to llie breeze 



That hums concordant on, o'ci plain and hill, 



And in its course revolves the rattling mill, 



Come now, ye Metropolitans with me 



Enjoy the sweets of rural minsirelsy ; 



In vain ye show — what art may do , 



Your n'oods, and Knights, and Russets, all must yield 



The palm to these sweet songsters of the field. 



Yankee Farmer. 



