358 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
UtoUatiemis^ 
Written for tho Amorican Agriculturist. 
THE WINTER BOQTJET. 
RECEIVED OX A SICK BED. 
BY MINNIE MYRTLE. 
Here blooms the fair Camellia, 
With its robe of purest white, 
Beside a blushing rosebud 
Just opening to the light; 
And here are sweet Geraniums 
Of every varying hue, 
Enwreathed in pleasing contrast 
With the Heliotrope of blue. 
There slyly peeps the Daisy, 
So lowly in its birth, 
Where proudly peers the evergreen 
To shelter modest worth. 
And there are countless blossoms 
In crimson blushes too, 
While fringed and tasseled leaflets 
Half shield them from the view. 
It is a beauteous garland, 
And beauty’s spell I own, 
Yet o’er these clustering ilowrets 
A holier charm is thrown. 
The gift of one whose friendship 
And self-denying love, 
It needs not time to hallow, 
Adversity to prove; 
Whose heart with fervent sympathy 
In time pf trial glowed, 
And from whose bosom pity 
In gentle current flowed; 
With brow all brightly beamiug, 
Where loftiest beauty smiled, 
She came with these pure emblems 
To bless affliction’s child. 
How sweet to breathe the fragrance 
Their dewy leaves impart, 
But sweeter far the fountain 
Warm gushing from the heart. 
-« e ♦- 
AN ANECDOTE WITH A LESSON. 
Two painters were employed to fresco the 
walls of a magnificent cathedral; both stood on 
a rude scaffolding constructed for the purpose, 
some forty feet from the floor. One of them 
was so intent upon his work that he became 
wholly absorbed, and in admiration stood off 
from the picture, gazing at it with intense de¬ 
light. Forgetting where he was, he moved back 
slowly, surveying critically the work of his pen¬ 
cil, until he had neared the edge of the plank 
upon which he stood. At this critical moment 
his companion turned suddenly, and, almost 
frozen with horror, beheld his imminent peril; 
another instant, and the enthusiast would be 
precipitated upon the pavement beneath. If he 
spoke to him, it was certain death ; if he held 
his peace, death was equally sure. Suddenly 
he regained his presence of mind, and seizing a 
wet brush, flung it against the wall, spattering 
the beautiful picture with unsightly blotches of 
coloring. The painter flew forward, and turned 
upon his friend with fierce upbraidings: but, 
startled at his ghastly face, he listened to his 
recital of danger, looked shuddering over the 
dread space below, and with tears of gratitude 
blessed the hand that saved him. Just so we 
sometimes get absorbed upon the pictures of the 
world, and, in contemplating them, step back¬ 
ward, unconscious of our peril, when the Al¬ 
mighty, in mercy, dashes out the beautiful im¬ 
ages, and draws us, at the time we are com¬ 
plaining of his dealings, into his outstretched 
arms of compassion and love .—National Maga¬ 
zine. 
Child’s Sayings. —The other day Dr. S-’s 
three children, while playing in the nursery, 
decided to have a railroad excursion. So they 
all mounted up into the crib and commenced 
rocking full speed. After a while it was pro¬ 
posed to have an accident, thinking, I suppose, 
it would be unfashionable to travel without one. 
So they all took hold and tipped the crib over 
by main force, and little Mary broke her arm 
short off. 
B>-went to see her, and was pitying her 
very much with her helpless and bandaged arm, 
when Mary said : 
“Well! if ever I get well I’ll sue the com¬ 
pany for $3,000 damages! I think that will be 
enough, for father says it ain’t any very great 
affair after all.” 
That is the best sarcasm on the present state 
of railroads that I know of. 
She is the same little young one, (seven years 
old,) who said of her little brother Joe—who is 
a great teaze—that he wished our Heavenly 
Father either hadn’t made her or her brother 
Joe—it didn’t make any difference which. 
“ Some years ago, when the present Clerk of 
the House at Washington was domiciled in the 
Quaker City, his young son, a lad of some six 
years, happened to be at his father’s office one 
morning, when the ‘hatless prophet,’ George 
Mundy, made his appearance, and getting into 
conversation with the child, the latter asked 
him, in the course of their chat: 
“ ‘ Why don’t you wear a hat, Mr. Mundy?” 
“ ‘ Oh !’ answered the prophet, ‘ because 
there is no use in it; God’s creatures are not so 
furnished; sheep, and other animals, don’t wear 
hats.’ 
“Quick as lightning, came the child’s philos¬ 
ophic and clinching response: 
“ ‘Are you a sheep, Mr. Mundy V ” 
“A young lad in one the ‘ Dutch’ districts of 
the Key-stone State, had progressed with his 
‘ eddykation,’ under the guidance of a Yankee 
school-master, as far as words of five letters. 
While under drill, one day, he came upon the 
word ‘ pipe.’ 
“ ‘What does that spell? said the Dominie. 
“ ‘ Couldn’t tell.’ 
“ ‘Try it again.’ 
U < P_j_p.Q ’ D 
Still, he couldn’t pronounce it. 
“‘What do people smoke with?’ said the 
master. 
“The boy made no answer, but, with a 
brightened countenance, commenced once more: 
“ ‘ P-i-p-e— cigar /’ ” — Knickerbocker. 
■ -• o •-- 
A STORY EOR BOYS. 
Business called me to the United States’ 
Land Office. While there, a lad, apparently 
about sixteen or seventeen years old, came in 
and presented a certificate of purchase of forty 
acres of land, I was struck with the counten¬ 
ance and general appearance of the lad, and in¬ 
quired of him from whom he got the money ? 
He answered, “I earned it.” Feeling, then, an 
increased desire to know something more about 
this lad, I asked him whether he had any pa¬ 
rents, and where they lived ? At this question, 
he took a seat, and gave me the following narra¬ 
tive : 
“I am from New-York State. I have there 
living a father, mother, and five brothers and 
sisters. I am the oldest child. Father is a 
drinking man, and often would return home 
from his day’s work drunk, and not a penny in 
his pocket. Finding father would not abstain 
from liquor, I resolved to make an effort, in some 
way, to relieve mother, sisters and brothers 
from want. After revolving the thing in my 
mind, and consulting with mother, I got all the 
information I could about tho far West and 
started from home for Wisconsin, with ten shil¬ 
lings in pocket. I left home on foot. After 
spending my ten shillings, I worked my way 
to Wisconsin. Here I got an axe, and set to 
work, cleared land, earned money, saved it 
until I gathered a hundred dollars, and with it 
I now pay for this forty acres of land.” 
“Well, my good lad,” (for by this time I be¬ 
came much interested him,) “ what are you 
going to do with the land ?” 
“Why, Sir, I will continue to work, raise 
myself a log house, and when prepared will 
invite father and mother, brothers and sisters, 
to come and enjoy this home. The land I de¬ 
sign for my mother, which will secure her from 
want in her declining years.” 
“What,” said I, “will you do with your 
father, if he continues to drink ardent spirits to 
excess ?” 
“ Oh, Sir, when we get him on the farm, he 
will feel at home ; he will be happy at home ; 
he will work at home; and become a sober 
man.” 
I then replied: “Young man, these being 
your principles so young, I recommend you to 
improve on them, and the blessing of God will 
attend you.” 
By this time the receiver handed him his du¬ 
plicate receipt for his forty acres of land. Ri¬ 
sing from his seat on leaving the office, he said, 
“At last I have a home for my mother.” 
A Sudden Change in the Weather. —While 
the last generation was flourishing, there dwelt 
in what is now the famous city, not a mile from 
Boston, an opulent widow lady, who once af¬ 
forded a queer manifestation of that odd com¬ 
pound of incompatibles, called “ human na¬ 
ture.” 
It was Christmas Eve, one of those old-fash¬ 
ioned winters which were so “ bitter cold.”— 
The old lady put on an extra shawl; and as she 
hugged her shivering frame, she said to her 
faithful negro servant: 
“ It’s a terrible cold night, Scip. I am afraid 
my poor neighbor, widow Green, must be suf¬ 
fering. Take the wheel-barrow, Scip, fill it full 
of wood, pile on a good load, and tell the poor 
woman to keep herself warm and comfortable. 
But before you go, Scip, put some more wood 
on the fire, and make a nice mug of flip.” 
These last orders were duly obeyed; and the 
old lady was thoroughly warmed, both inside 
and out, and now the trusty Scipio was about 
to depart on his errand of mercy, when his 
considerate mistress interposed again. 
“ Stop, stop. You need not go now; the 
weather has moderated.” 
■-- 
How much did he Leaye ?—The question is 
asked concerning the property of every rich 
man who dies, and it was answered very hap¬ 
pily by Cloots, who was executor upon the 
estate of the late Mr. Snodgrass. His neighbor, 
Mr. Nailrod, was an exceedingly inquisitive man,' 
and it was his pride that he knew as much, 
almost, of the affairs of people of his neighbor¬ 
hood, as they did themselves. But Mr. Snod¬ 
grass had never been communicative, and all 
that he could glean of his circumstances, was 
from the guesses and speculations of outsiders. 
The day after his neighbor had been put into 
the earth, Nailrod visited Cloots, and with an 
expecting face began to question him: “ Mr. 
Cloots,” says he, “ if it is not improper—I 
wouldn’t wish to ask the question if it is the 
least improper, nor expect you to answer it— 
will you inform me how much my particular 
friend Snodgrass left?” “ Certainly,” said Cloots, 
“ I don’t see the least impropriety in your ask¬ 
ing, and am perfectly willing to answer it. Ho 
left every cent he was worth in the world, and 
didn’t take a copper with him.” Nailrod felt 
as small as a pump tack, and went out.— Boston 
Post. 
TnE Only One. —Every man believes the 
“only honest lawyer” to be his own—until the 
“honest lawyer” has sent him in his bill of 
costs. 
