152 
AMERICAN.. AGRICULTURIST, 
No. 148 
Last month we printed a note from cousin Mary, who 
had found Grandmother at Uncle John’s, in the City, and 
she promised further reports. While waiting to hear from 
her, a friend in Europe sent us the above picture of one of 
the Grandmothers “ over the sea,” which pleased us so 
much that we immediately had it engraved to present to 
our young readers, for we know they w ill love to look at 
it. Our friend did not tell us a word about this picture, 
who made it, or where it was made. He simply said, “It 
speaks for itself,” and so we think it does. We leave 
you dear children to study it and answer: What does it 
teach you ? P. S.—Our friend and contributor Anna Hope, 
happened to see the engraver’s proof of the picture and 
here is what she wrote down about it: 
How satisfied Grandmother looks as she watches little 
Sarali darning her apron. I am sure she considers her 
quite a remarkable seamstress, and Sarah is evidently 
takirg great care to please her Grandmother. It is no 
small accomplishment to be able to sew well and to mend 
neatly, and it is quite as necessary in these days of Sew¬ 
ing Machines as it was many years ago, before they were 
invented. I am glad Sarah has a Grandmother to love 
her, and I hope she is a good girl and ready to wait upon 
her, and do all she can for her comfort. My Grandmoth¬ 
er always wore such a cap as this old lady wears. I re¬ 
member how nice these caps looked with their crimped 
borders. And Sarah’s dress is just such as I wore. That 
high-neck apron we called a tire. 
You will see that the old lady’s face is very pleasant. 
She has been a good tempered woman. We doubt not 
she is one who has neither scolded nor fretted, but has 
cheerfully borne the troubles of life. If she had been ill- 
tempered it would have been written on her face. Chil¬ 
dren are all the time making their own faces—the faces 
they w ill wear if they live to be old. If they wish to be 
beautiful even in old age, as well as In middle life and 
youth, they must not allow themselves to do that which 
will leave an ugly mark. Anger, impatience, untruthful¬ 
ness, all write themselves in the face for every observer to 
read. So do kindness, gentleness and love. The homeliest 
face is agreeable if it is written over with pleasant things. 
I think Sarah resembles her Grandmother. If she lives 
to be as old, I hope she will look as cheerful and happy. 
-- --—«*--» «•- 
The Editor with his young- Readers. 
May Day has come again. This, to those of us born and 
brought up in America, is not so full of meaning as it is 
to the girls and boys living beyond the sea. We regret 
to know that of late years, even there, May Day is not the 
general holiday it once was. Formerly, when this sea 
son arrived, every body, old and young, joined to cele¬ 
brate the approach of Spring, by- choosing a May Queen, 
dancing round the May pole festooned with flowers, and 
engaging in various sports and recreations. We wish 
there might be more play days, when we could join the 
young people in a merry romp at blind man’s buff, or 
some other of their stirring sports—enough to rub the rust 
off a little. The nearest we can come to play is to sit 
down and have this friendly chat with you once a month, 
and a pleasant recreation we find it. After toiling away, 
day and night, to interest grown up peopl ■, talking with 
them about work, we feel, in sitting down to chat with 
you, something as we imagine our horse, Jim, used to, 
when, after he had been shut up for a long time, eating 
dry hay and oats, we let him out into the pasture to get a 
nip of the fresh grass. How he would run just for the 
sake of running 1 Just so our pen sometimes gets to run¬ 
ning. 
But our thoughts and pen do not gallop quite so 
blithely now. as they have always done hitherto at this 
season—except one Spring six years ago when just at this 
time w e were returning from the West, w here we had been 
to bury the last remains of one little boy by the side of 
another one w-no had died, and w as buried there when we 
were on a visit two years before. That was a sad Spring 1 
Very many of our young friends kindly wrote sympa¬ 
thizing letters when we recently told them about being 
in those “corners';” and many inquiries have come as to 
whether we had got away fr^m the doctor or not. We 
can not respond individually to these letters, but we are 
glad to say that, though the doctor kept his eye on us a 
long time—almost all Winter—we have not seen him 
lately. He doubtless thinks we are improving, and we 
think and feel so too. But in getting thoroughly well 
again, we are trying to do as our writing teacher used to 
direct us, viz.; “ to make haste slowly,” and so we do not 
work so hard as formerly. Already the skies look bright¬ 
er. We feel ourselves “ good for twenty or thirty years,” 
of effective work yet—if our life is spared. 
TWENTY YEARS AHEAD ! 
How the imagination runs on to the future, and paints 
it as on a panorama before us. Twenty years ! That 
seems like a long period to you, does it not? But it will 
quickly pass. Time fl-es more and more swiftly every 
year. As you become more absorbed in active life, the 
less will you notice its flight. Now, you look ahead and 
think what you will do, and what improvements in con* 
duct and character you will make next year, or five years 
hence. BntfAmyou will be looking just as far ahead 
again, and ever regretting wasted hours and days, and 
months and years in the past. .Remember this, and do 
well, what you find to do to-day_Twenty years ahead 1 
Why then you boys and girls of ten, twelve, or fifteen 
years will be men and women of thirty to thirty-five 
years, at work on your farms, or in your shops, or offices, 
and we shall perhaps be at this same table, working away 
at the thirty-eighth volume of the Agriculturist , still 
hunting up new articles, new engravings, and new mat¬ 
ters of interest to send to your fire-sides. These are cu¬ 
rious yet pleasing thoughts, are they nof 1 How the mind 
gallops away when we let it have the reins.Putting 
our hand into our Boys and Girls, letter box, the first thing 
that comes out is a marked item, in a letter from a west¬ 
ern lady which we have headed : 
THE BOY WHO LOVES TO 
WHISTLE. 
She writes : “ I wonderif 
the children all like to whis¬ 
tle as well as our little Bur- 
dett does. Not long since, 
he came to his mother, and 
very earnestly 
said, ‘ Ma, I 
want to.go and live with the 
Agriculturist." -Why?’ I 
asked. ‘ Because ’ he an¬ 
swered, ‘the Agriculturist 
believes in whistling; and 
Carrie doesn’t like to have 
me whistle here.’ * Never 
mind, my son,’ I replied, ‘ it 
will be warm weather some¬ 
time. and then you may go 
and sit on the wood-pile and 
whistle and whittle to your 
heart’s content.’ The child’s 
eyes brightened. Evidently 
it was a joyous thought with 
him, that there was a time 
in prospect when he might 
w histle and whistle as much 
as he pleased, w ith no one to 
say. ‘ Please don’t make such 
ancise;’or, ‘Please don’t 
make such a litter!”. 
That boy is one of the kind 
we like, after all, for he is 
one of those “ who must be 
doing something.” Let him 
do it. We hope he will yet 
make a noise in the world 
that will be heard even fur¬ 
ther than a steam whistle. Let him keep doing —pro¬ 
vided he does not very foolishly imitate one of those 
BOYS WHO TRY TO EQUAL A MONKEY. 
There is in almost every neighborhood at least one boy, 
whom his companions consider the funny boy. He al¬ 
ways has some joke, or prank, or comical face, with 
which to raise a laugh, and he is generally successful, 
because his fellows expect to laugh, when he does any¬ 
thing to make fun. When we see one of these boys we 
are reminded of what our schoolmaster once said to a 
boy who, though naturally kind hearted, as such boys usu¬ 
ally are, was continually causing much trouble by his 
antics during school-time. “ Thomas,” said he, “ I think 
with continued practice, you may at length equal a mon¬ 
key.” .Not a very high mark to aim at, is it? Fun 
should not be followed as a business, but kept as we keep 
matches, to “ light up with ” occasionally. However 
much the w it of the “ funny ” boy or man may be laughed 
at, he is seldom respected, nor can he usually make many 
friends. But with all his faults we think even the comic 
al boy greatly more respectable and loveable, than one of 
those 
BOYS WHO TRY TO EQUAL A BULL-DOG, 
We accidentally overheard such a boy while walking 
homeward a few evenings since. “ I’ll fight him any 
time,” said he, and the rest of his conversation, which 
was very profane, showed him to be a boy who thought it 
a w orthy object of ambition to be able to pound somebody 
very hard. Now, although you may at some time have 
heard boys praise a “ fighter,” did you ever really love 
one? We have seen several men who made fighting a 
business. We did not meet them at church, nor in a gen¬ 
tleman’s parlor. They would have been as much out of 
place there, that is as fighting men, as a threshing machine 
in full blast would be. We saw them standing about the 
doors of grog-shops, where they seemed perfectly at home. 
Certainly that can not be very desirable, which unfits 
men to be loved, or even to be in the society of the good 
and the respectable. No ! no 1 my boy, if you want to 
beat somebody, do it in learning lessons, or writing, or 
even flying kites or skating, but let only the “ dogs de¬ 
light to bark and bite.” 
“FATHER! STEER STRAIGHT TO ME, FATHER.” 
Last week (April 5th) we attended, at the house of a 
friend, the funeral of a little child that, after suffering for 
many weeks, had taken its departure to the ‘belter land.’ 
The Pastor offered a few words of consolation to the be¬ 
reaved parents. He referred to the often inexplicable 
dealings of Providence in taking away our innocent prat¬ 
tlers, when we can see no reason for the dispensation 
One reason given was, that it is often necessary to remove 
our most prized treasures to Heaven that our hearts may 
be turned thither. An illustrative incident he gave, though 
he said he had read it, was new to us. and left a deep im¬ 
pression. A fisherman was accustomed to go out in a 
