ladies’ department. 
321 
CaMes ^Department. 
HARVEST HOME. 
Old Lady’s Diary. —I have just received an in¬ 
vitation from our kind neighbor, farmer Jones, to 
take my whole family to his house to-morrow, and 
join in the pleasure of a real old-fashioned t£ har¬ 
vest home,” which I would accept with right good 
will, did I think it prudent to leave home to take 
care of itself; but as I do approve of making all 
happy who are capable of receiving pleasure in a 
reasonable way, and as youth is the season of en¬ 
joyment, I have given all the young folks a holi¬ 
day, keeping my old faithful Peter to take care of 
the live stock, while I keep house in a quiet way. 
The information that the invitation has been ac¬ 
cepted has already spread far and wide, from the 
pantry to the kitchen, and from the kitchen to the 
milk house; and all are in joyous consultation as 
to what they can do, over night, to expedite the 
morning’s work, and allow of an early start. Bet¬ 
sey takes the lead in all the preparations, and has 
promised to take the young people under her care. 
The large hay waggon, with the best horses, will 
-carry them all without fatigue over our hilly road, 
so they will arrive fresh for a day of pleasurable 
toil. It is amazing to see with what spirit, work 
of all kinds is carried on to-day. The pantry is 
undergoing a thorough cleaning, and the bright tin 
pans glitter in the sun on the grass near the spring 
house, while the sound of the scrubbing brush on 
the churn, tells that in that department there will 
be nothing left to be done on the morrow; while 
the gleesome face, and the merry laugh that greets 
me at every turn, assures me that there is no stimu¬ 
lus to exertion and thrift like hope, and a prospect 
of innocent pleasure. Why will the old, who are 
no longer capable of enjoying youthful pleasures 
and sports, churlishly deny them to the young % 
Cares and trials that are inseparable from earth and 
its inhabitants, will soon enough blight their bright 
landscape, trials that we cannot ward off, and cares 
that like the canker worm eat into the very core of 
their hearts. Surely, then, it should be the study 
of the old, not unnecessarily to cloud the sunshine 
that never shines too brightly. 
Harvest Home ! What a long train of associa¬ 
tions is connected with this word and festival. 
From the days of Boaz and Ruth, whose simple 
and touching history tells of the rich lord of the 
harvest, personally watching over his laborers, his 
heart cheered and thankful to the Great Giver of all 
good, for the bounteous supply, his body invigorat¬ 
ed by healthful labors, the bright sunshine and the 
fresh breezes around him; yet forgetting not the 
poor and humble gleaner, who had all day follow¬ 
ed at a distance, gaining a scanty subsistence by 
gathering the scattered ears that had fallen from his 
loaded sheaves. Boaz had then earned a joyous 
4{ harvest home,” and we read that, “ in the evening 
he ate and drank and his heart was merry,” for God 
had blessed him. 
Through the whole scripture history the bringing 
in of the harvest, and the threshing floors are de¬ 
scribed as scenes of peculiar festivity and religious 
thankfulness, and a portion was always set apart 
as a thank offering unto the Lord. The heathen 
nations, who had a long time before wandered off 
from the people of God, still remembered their sea¬ 
sons of mirth and rejoicing, though they forgot the 
source from whence their wealth and blessings 
flowed. Traditions remained amongst them that 
there was a God and Creator, though they had for¬ 
gotten Him, and gone far astray; so they made 
unto themselves gods and worshipped the creature 
instead of the Creator. Ceres and Bacchus, their 
gods of the grain and grape, were at the gathering 
in of the harvest, personified, and carried in proces¬ 
sion, crowned with their appropriate emblems, 
wheat ears, and the vine. Priests and priestesses 
followed with music and dancing, accompanied by 
a multitude of drunken revellers, who made the wel¬ 
kin ring with their uproar and beastly mirth; nor 
did the revel cease until in the far-spent night, ex¬ 
hausted nature sunk under the unnatural excess. 
Then in this dread night of moral darkness, arose 
the star of the Lord of the harvest, and our Saviour 
again declared to whom the honor was due. 
His followers have ever since had their appoint¬ 
ed and appropriate seasons for prayer and thank¬ 
fulness for the blessings of the harvest, while the 
old revels have still been handed down, modified by 
the purer religion and manners that Christianity 
has blessed us with. 
In England, the harvesting of the grain appears 
to have been always celebrated with hearty good 
will and substantial feasting, while on the continent 
of Europe the gathering in of the grape is a univer¬ 
sally joyous merry-making. 
Bloomfield enters with true simple-heartedness 
into the inspiring scene, and gives in his own de¬ 
lightful manner, an animated description of the 
“ Howkey Night.” I think I see the dear good 
old Judie Twitchet, with spectacles on nose, and 
knitting in hand, surrounded by her rustic audience, 
telling of the happy days of her youth, and in par¬ 
ticular of that merry Howkey night, when 
“ We did so laugh ; the moon shone bright ” 
More fun you never knew ; 
’Twas farmer Cheerum’s Howkey night, 
And I and Grace, and Sue. 
* * * * 
“ The butcher whistled at the door, 
And brought a load of meat— 
Boys rubb’d their hands, and cried 1 there’s more,’ 
Dogs wagg’d their tails to see ’t.” 
Then follows an animated and delightful descrip¬ 
tion of the preparations for the feast, when farmer 
Cheerum and his train arrived from the field with 
the last load. 
“ Home came the jovial Howkey load, 
Last of the whole year’s crop— 
And Grace amongst the green boughs rode, 
Right plump upon the top. 
“ This way and that, the waggon reeled, 
And never queen rode higher— 
Her cheeks were colored in the field, 
And ours before the fire.” 
The feast being over the fun began amongst the 
young folks, which lasted until the moon shone 
bright and clear, but low in the west. 
<f Then off we stroll’d this way and that, 
With merry voices ringing— 
And Echo answered us right pat, 
As home we rambled singing.” 
I will read the whole of this delightful poem to 
my young people this evening, and when I record, 
their description of to-morrow’s merry-making, see 
how the English harvest home will compare with 
the American. 
