' ' I • ' 
HR 
BLOSSOMS ON THE TOMB 
BY A. .A. HOPKINS. 
BY MTCY T . stout. 
“ Sweetheart, look on me yet! 
Thou art not (lead to-day! 
I love to think your cheeks are wet 
Because to weep l ne'er forget— 
To weep as true hearts iuav 1” 
Sailing away. 
Unto the land of the dying day. 
The light wind tills tho loss'ntng sails; 
On, on they speed with favoring gates, 
'Neath the white stars; ami when the tight 
Of morning swallows up the night; 
And from the watchers on the bay 
They swiftly, silently sail away. 
Balling nwny 
To the land whore the glittering ice-fields lay 
Where night and cold and solitude 
Wole-' down the soul and freeze tho blood; 
Where wild, weird splendors name and glow, 
And light, not warm, tho world of suuw ; 
Into that Ilfe-ln-doath the guy, 
Full-freighted vessels sail away. 
Balling away 
To the East, whore the Holy Star's nrst ray 
Flamed on the world ils tidings high, 
While choirs of angels tilled the sky. 
Where mystic spells of old romance 
fling to gray ruins, and f ho glance 
Of strange Bphynv eyes salute the day; 
To tho I,and Of t’alms they sail away. 
Balling away 
To tho glowing South. The fervid ray 
Of burning suns on shining sand. 
Or white-peaked mountains old and grand. 
Calls up tho mirage false and bright, 
Or breaks in shafts of selntillunt light 
O’er the deep valleys! Tropic, day, 
Into thy glow they sail away. 
AGRICULTURE IN COMMON 
SCHOOLS—m. 
Ah ! could we ever win 
The treasure loving craves, 
There would bo no reward for sin 
This weary walk of life within. 
And earth would have no graves! 
BY E. W. STEWART. 
Its Efl'cct Upon Farmers’ Sons. 
When a farmer’s son finds that Agricul¬ 
ture is an intellectual pursuit—that it is of 
such importance as to be taught him at, 
school — that the natural sciences are its 
servants—that the most, elevated professors 
may here find scope for all their learning— 
this changes the whole picture. What was 
mere drudgery becomes a manly exercise 
directed by science, and the advanced farmer 
becomes the sawn! When lie learns by 
his studies in school that, all the processes 
on the farm should be governed by definite 
knowledge and exact, rules, bis respect for 
his father’s calling increases. 
He learns that the breeding and rearing 
of stock successfully require a knowledge of 
♦he laws of life, both vegetable and animal. 
He sees that everything has an adequate 
cause; that to grow animals intelligently, 
their structure and functions must be under¬ 
stood ; that the food must he adapted to the 
purposes intended: that the same food that, 
will fatten an animal will not build up hone 
and muscle; that the animal being complex, 
the food must he likewise various; that to 
build up a certain element of the animal re¬ 
quires precisely the same element in the 
food; that the animal creates no new ele¬ 
ments from its food, hut simply appropriates 
what it finds there; that certain elements in 
food go to keep up animal heat, and that, if 
stables are kept of uniform temperature, less 
food will be required to supply animal heat. 
It is thus made clear to his comprehension 
why warm stables should he provided. 
He also learns that the vegetable grows 
by appropriating the elements of which it is 
composed from the earth and air; that the 
plant makes nothing for itself, but merely 
uses what it finds in reach of its roots; that, 
all plant food must be in solution before it 
can be absorbed by the roots; that all the 
elements of a crop must he present In a solu¬ 
ble and assimilable condition, or the result i3 
a failure ; that the soil often contains large 
stores of plant food in an unfit condition for 
use, that by draining when wet, and pulver¬ 
izing this soil, exposing it to the action of 
air ami frost, these elements are liberated 
and rendered soluble; that these same ele¬ 
ments may be supplied artificially to the 
soil, in the refuse of crops, excrements of 
animals, bones, guano, ashes, plaster, lime, 
salt and from many other sources, and that 
plants will feed upon these and convert them, 
by their own wonderful chemical processes, 
into food for men and animals. He thus 
learns that plants must be fed as ivell as 
animals. 
The few lessons that are given him in 
architecture and landscape gardening, show 
him that refinement and taste may he as 
well displayed on the farm as in other occu¬ 
pations or the professions; and on thus sur¬ 
veying tho whole routine of agriculture he 
finds it an intellectual process. lie will not 
then leave this occupation for any art, me¬ 
chanical or mercantile pursuit, on the score 
of dignity or respectability, for he finds agri¬ 
culture requires more scientific knowledge 
than any one of these. This, then, will be 
the best euro for that prevalent mania of 
farmers’ sons to fly from the calling of their 
fathers. 
Its Eflcct Upon Agricultural Collettes. 
It must be evident that this enlargement 
of tiio studies of the common school will 
have a most beneficent effect upon the pros¬ 
perity of our Agricultural Colleges. Here 
would be the means, in every neighborhood, 
of preparing agricultural students to cuter 
upon a higher course. This rudimentary 
teaching in the common school would de¬ 
velop the aptitude of the boys for the col¬ 
lege course- Thousands, who would not 
otherwise have their attention turned to it, 
would find great delight in the study of 
these sciences. 
Nature delights in variety, and the tastes 
of the human mind are infinitely various. 
There will, therefore, he no danger of all 
young men becoming enraptured with agri¬ 
cultural science and farming, to the exclu¬ 
sion of other industries; but when a boy 
shows a decided aptitude to this course of 
study he will be pointed to the Agricultural 
College as the place where this tuste can be 
gratified. This, then, will have the effect ol 
selecting a class of students better adapted 
to the college course, taking it up with that 
enthusiasm which is necessary to success in 
any undertaking. It would also rentier the 
task of the professors of agriculture less diffi¬ 
cult, and success more certain. At present, 
the students mostly go there without any 
previous training, and, generally, without 
any definite idea of what the course is, con¬ 
sequently, after entering, many find it en¬ 
tirely unsuited to tlieir tastes. This disan- 
“ Sweetheart, ray lips you pressed ! 
Warm is that parting kiss! 
Fold mo yet closely to your breast; 
To be again by you caressed 
Were largess sweet of bliss!” 
Tho end of bliss is pain : 
The end is always near. 
Who loveth much has little gain; 
Who prays for more but prays in vain 
There is no answer here. 
“Sweetheart, yet speak to mo! 
Some place new music knows: 
I know not where that place may be. 
But here I miss the harmony 
That soniewhorc sweetly flows!” 
The voice of nil most sweet. 
To silence soonest dies. 
The dearest sonss are (hose most fleet 
The dearest words that lips repeat 
Sink soonest into sighs. 
Sailing away 
In white-winged fleets, day after day. 
Freighted with youth, love, hope. Ah, vain, 
Mad ventures on Life's boundless main ! 
Wild tempests whelm them, or becalmed 
They linger as in dreams embalmed ; 
But ne’er at morn or twilight, gray 
Make harbor whence they sailed away ! 
Ypsilantl, Mich., June, IWJ. 
“ Sweetheart, the cannons roar 
In noisy jubilee; 
But I—1 hear forevermore 
Sad echoes of the shot t hat bore 
Your life away from me!” 
Each loudly pealing gun 
Seems burdened with tho knell 
Of lover brave, or noble son, 
Who sudden rank in glory won 
Because he fought so well! 
oo 
tones for I’umiUsts 
“ 8woethenrt, your grayo Is hid! 
I may not dock its sod! 
Whose fingers pressed your throbbing lid 
Who heard your final prnyer, amid 
Tho countless prayers to God V’ 
SAVED BY A SATCHEL 
Ah, loving one! he sleeps 
Unnumbered and alone! 
Above bis grave no myrtle creeps 
In tendernesa, no mother weeps,— 
Only the winds make moan! 
CHAPTER I. 
On a beautiful June morning of 1850, 
among the few passengers that took the 
train lor Syracuse at a little station some 
distance from that city, was a pale young 
lady who bent down from the platform and 
kisssed noiselessly a woman who was weep¬ 
ing. It was evidently a grievous parting to 
the elder woman, whatever it was to flic 
younger. A flush came into the pole checks, 
as the lady watched from her open window 
the plaintive face that tried to smile through 
its tears; but it died out gradually as the 
train got under way, and she settled back 
on her seat, listless and forgetful. 
The face was not beautiful, had never 
been, probably, though it might have been a 
study to imagine what the difference of full 
cheeks, and bright color, and animation 
would have been. It was one of those faces 
rarely met, but once seen remembered ever 
after, which does not depend on any out¬ 
ward circumstance of form or color or emo¬ 
tion for its effect, but holds a something 
within or without all these, which, for want 
of a better word we will call power. She 
needed but to raise her large dark eyes, the 
one beauty of her face—more observable for 
that—with a purpose, to put to flight a dozen 
merely handsome women. 
Tt, was noticeable that no one attracted so 
much attention. If one came into the car 
he fastened his eyes upon her; if one were al¬ 
ready seated, be became conscious of a vague 
tendency to adjust himself so as to com¬ 
mand a view of her. Perhaps it was be¬ 
cause she looked so 111, perhaps that she sat 
so deathly still, looking straight out with 
her luminous eyes, seeing nothing, evidently 
forgetful—in some overwhelming memory— 
of everything about her. Deride human 
nature as we will, it is only the half-worltcrs, 
the half-sufferers who are scoffed and de¬ 
rided. Let a man with his whole soul in 
his theme make his appeal, and he carries 
the people with him, right or wrong; let 
him bear bis grief in his life, wear it in his 
face, he commands their pity. So this 
woman, making no outcry, asserting herself 
in no way, telling only by her mute face that 
a great sorrow possessed her, had their 
sympathy. 
The cars stopped, went on again ; people 
went out; people came in—siie did not 
head. Now and then a passenger more 
nervous or less susceptible, turned his back 
and entered into conversation with his 
neighbor, At last an old Quaker woman, 
apparently poor, but rich in that wealth 
wherewith God dowers his beloved chil¬ 
dren, made her way to her seat, and 
standing a moment to notice that .she still 
sat unmoved, laid her hand gently on tlic 
girl's shoulder, and asked tenderly—“ Is 
thee ill ?" 
The eyes, albeit slowly and with pain, 
came out of their trance, and rested quos- 
tionlngly on the peaceful face of the old 
Christian. She repeated tho words, “ Is 
thee ill ?” 
The girl hesitatingly signified a negative. 
“ What is it, then ? Can I help thee?" 
Something like a smile came to the pale 
lips as she answered ; “ No one can help me 
but God." 
“ Trust in Him, then, and may IIo sus¬ 
tain thee to the uttermost!" 
The Quaker went back to her scat, but it 
" Sweetheart, look flown and say 
The flowers are sweet I bring! 
You plucked me some, but yesterday, 
And they will sweeter grow alway, 
Thoujth alway withering!” 
No sweetness love can miss; 
Your flowers will ever Lloom ! 
Cold lips return our warmest kiss; 
And sweetest Of all flowers is this 
That blossoms on tho tomb! 
disgust. This would all he avoided by the 
elementary training in common schools, it is 
therefore for the interest, of these colleges, as 
of the great body of the citizens, that this 
advance should he rapidly made. 
Its Effects Upon Other Pursuits. 
Some may, without reflection, regard this 
programme as giving loo great prominence 
to the interest of agriculture over other in¬ 
dustries. But, on further examination, it 
will he seen that most of these studies have 
an intimate hearing upon many other pur¬ 
suits. 
Let us glance at the bearings of chemistry. 
What, would the calico printer, bleacher or 
dyer do without some knowledge of chemical 
laws? What would become of our great 
mining operations in separating iron, lead, 
tin, silver and gold from their ores without a 
knowledge of chemistry? The great indus¬ 
tries of sugar refining, gunpowder manufac¬ 
ture, gas making, brewing, distilling, glass 
and porcelain manufacture, all derive most 
important aid from chemistry. Even the 
common hicifcr match cannot bo made with¬ 
out chemistry. 
Tho principles of mathematics and mech¬ 
anics must be used by the builders of bridges, 
culverts, tunnels, harbors,docks, piers, ships, 
railways and in all engineering and archi¬ 
tectural works. Vegetable and animal physi- 
ology, as far as taught, would be a gain to the 
medical and general student as well as the 
farmer. 
Thus it is with nearly all the branches 
sought to be introduced. No, there can be 
no cry of exclusive privileges here. These 
studies are as broad as humanity, and will 
benefit all. Agriculture was the first occu¬ 
pation of man, and as it embraces the whole 
earth, it is the foundation of all other in¬ 
dustries. And as the common school is the 
foundation and hope of democracies, let us 
all strive to make it adequate to their wants. 
Here all meet on a broad platform of equality 
and take their youthful lessons from the 
same teacher. The great mass never receive 
any other instruction. 
Through intelligence alone must we hope 
to conquer the prejudices of the old world 
aristocracies, and, under cover of our iron¬ 
clad Republican principles, send the solid 
shot of Democratic ideas through the old 
wooden hulks of king-craft, priest-craft and 
hereditary privileges. 
When, the common school shall become 
wliat we have pictured—a miniature college, 
from which all the people shall graduate— 
then will knowledge, industry, morality aud 
refinement go hand in hand, establishing on 
this continent the world’s Great Republic, 
absorbing and regenerating all races, devel¬ 
oping one grand homogeneous humanity. 
quiets them in town. And the quiet, earnest 
simple souls who did not guess that dross 
and diamonds worn the measure of social 
success, look on, amused on the first, day, 
bored on the second, saddened on the third, 
and cynical on tho fourth, if by any chance 
they stay so long. 
“ Every sense is offended by this artificial 
life. The great dining-rooms, with their 
gregarious and greedy diners; the great ball¬ 
rooms, with their staring walls and floods of 
light, and showy toilets of women submit¬ 
ting to be stared at by all manner of men ; 
the great bowling-alleys, with their noisy 
troops of bowlers; the great parlors, with 
their eternal drcss-para.de of vanities; the 
great lawn, where conscious croquet-players 
invite admiration ; the great piazzas, crowd¬ 
ed with promenaders brassier than tho in¬ 
struments that time their steps—what part 
have refinement, and good sense, and good 
taste in these exhibitions ? ” 
WATERING - PL A CE LIFE 
Hotel registers tell us Unmistakably that 
watering-place life has begun for another sea¬ 
son. Kindly disposed papas have drawn 
heavily upon their surplus capital, to allow 
mammas aud daughters to recuperate at “ the 
springs," or down by “the sounding rcu;” 
and a whole army of trunks goes rattling 
hither and thither, suggestive of such toilets 
as a Saratoga invalid exerts her feeble pow¬ 
ers in producing, and drawing forth fearful 
maledictions from another army of baggage¬ 
men. With the first, sultry days of July, the 
City bodily turns countryward, and goes to 
taste the sweets of out-door being. 
Having penned this last sentence, we 
should like to believe it true. But is it? Do 
the thousands who wend their way from the 
over-heated cities do it with any desire for 
pure rural enjoyment? Will they find any 
pleasure in the melancholy music of the 
waves, or in the sweet summer twilights? 
Will they take deep into tlieir hearts any 
of the uplifting lessons which the mountains 
teach in tlieir everlastingness? We suspect 
not. They will see no new significance in 
living. The old round of days will be little 
changed; it will Still he dress and gossip, gos¬ 
sip and dress, as it has been heretofore. All 
the vanities of fashion will liolcl sway as they 
have been wont to, only yet more inane, their 
foolishness aud absolute harm fulness a hun¬ 
dred fold intensified, 
Is watering-place life, then, so beautiful? 
We think not. Is it in its influences — its 
direct and indirect effects—beneficial ? With 
all the emphasis of italics we answer No! 
How worse than idle it Is, even the most 
confirmed habitue of watering places will 
acknowledge, if he be conscientious and 
honest with himself. How positively bane¬ 
ful are many of its surroundings, any toler¬ 
ably acute observer of fashionable humanity 
must be fully prepared to state. And how 
great is the necessity for a reform movement 
in relation to it, all sober, right-thinking 
people, who would not make a burlesque of 
existence, and fritter away body and soul in 
the sheerest vapidity, can but readily bear 
Avitucss. 
The New York Tribune recently showed, 
in a pointed and very truthful manner, wliat 
watering-place life really is, and we quote 
the folloAving; 
“Tho people who knew each other at 
home, jostled in the Exchange, or outdressed 
each other at routs, meet again to say and 
do the same things, to follow, in the country, 
the same empty fashion of life which dis- 
FRESH HEWN CHIPS 
When love is at the highest it is nearest 
its fall. 
We clash xvitli ourselves when avg clash 
with love. 
That business is best which has the best 
men in it. 
Many thieves are locked up, but more 
locked out. 
Only base minds are attracted by the base 
part of metal. 
Poetry is pleasure. Anything that inter¬ 
feres Avitli tills is a fault. 
Money is good in its use. Beyond that it 
'fii apt to work mischief. 
If we Avould enjoy our recreations we 
must labor to gi\ r e them zest. 
It is the small unsuspected habits of the 
mind that usually control it. 
When a man does what he likes, and gets 
paid for it, he has found his vocation. 
A thought must have its own Avay of 
expression, or it will have no way at all. 
As a man is brought up so is he. Future 
changes may occur, but they will only sway, 
they cannot change the original current. 
Smartness may be genius, but it is the 
genius of the mechanical. It does not grow 
plants and disseminate fragrance like true 
genius. 
If we seek Happiness in by and forbidden 
paths we shall not. find her. Wc must travel 
the pathway she travels, of honor and virtue, 
and then we shall meet her. 
The mystery of nature is an open truth 
from eternity, could we but sec it. Wc are 
part of this mystery ourselves — do not even 
know ourselves, only so much matter is 
named, and that is changing. f. g. 
Educate yourself by observation, 
