178 
OOUNTET SMELLS. 
If the most delicious of coimtry smells be¬ 
long to the sumraei’ uud autumu, mnking a 
climate for themselves of our gardens aud 
orchards, the most delicate are the birth of 
spring, aud are wild and coy as a mountain 
nymph. Is there any epoch in the anu.als of 
a country year like the advent of the first 
wild-fiowers? The first snow is an event of 
dubious delight, except to the boys; and 
the first Asparagus and Pie-plant from 
our own garden is comparatively a gross en¬ 
joyment. But the first spring day on which 
we come home with a sprig of Trailing Ar¬ 
butus or a bunch of pale or purple-eyed 
Hepatic.as, or only a handful of Saxifrage or 
Anemones, is the real jubilee of the year: 
and their fragrance, as unobtrusive as them¬ 
selves, is the “still small voice" of a new 
life of natiu-e. It is the perfume tolled from 
the “floral bells" of the early wildflowers, 
which really rings “the old year out and 
the new ye.ar in." And the day when little 
Bess comes in with a clump of Violets in her 
chubby fist makes us all children again. 
The first Bed Clover is a little sunrise. 
Nothing in nature gives me a more blessed 
sense of “the wideness of God's mercy" than 
the w.ay He has sown the earth witli these 
bright and balmy flowers of the grass, “like 
the wideness of the sea." And I am as thank¬ 
ful for the exquisite scent of the White Clo¬ 
ver as the bees are for its honeyed store. 
The Sweet Clover, too,—it grows along the 
railway embankments here for miles, whiten¬ 
ing them with its feathery blossom, aud flll- 
uig the atmosphere with an almost oppres¬ 
sive fi-agrance when the grass is cut. 
As the summer advances the earth becomes 
surcharged with heat and sighs out its re¬ 
lieved heart in shad}- places aud by streams 
pf water or in swampy and meadow hinds, 
like some naiad or- water-nymph escaped 
from the hot pursuit of Pan or Apollo. And 
at night when the citizen is conscious only 
of the radiation of the day's stored up heat 
from the paving-stones and bricks, the air 
which floats in at my window, or surrounds 
me as I walk like the cloud with which 
Athene enveloped Diomed, is aromatic with 
the exhalations of the cool, clean earth (it is 
a great mistake to confound the earth with 
dfrt-iness), and with the breath of the Honey¬ 
suckle at the porch, the Pine-trees on the 
ridge, and the fine gi’ass which the mower 
left upon the lawn at sundown. It was in 
the night that “the soul of the Hose'’ went 
hito the blood of Tenn 3 'son's liero-lover, and 
“ The Lilies anU Jtoses were all awake, 
i'or they siglicti for the ilawji and thee.” 
And SO in the mimic twilight of the woods 
in the hot midsummer. The very essence of 
the country to me is in its ivoo/Ih)/ smells. 
There may not be more tonic in them th.an 
in those of the seashore, but they ai'c more 
highly medicated. My “mind diseased,” as 
well as my body dyspeptic, resjmnds to the 
first wai-m, aromatic gush that gi eets me as 
I pass the “woody hollows” in a drive, or 
step into the balmy shadows of the Pine 
grove. An invalid friend, wiio went every 
summer to Sai’utoga witli much benefit, used 
So Sten,;"Sdlploy H-Pf' o„rS'So sin«s strenga Of 
, wotoi- of IHo wlilcli no 
“Columbian,” hot or cold. 
to insist that it was "tore Spriig 
than the Pine woods (this 
surrounding country had been 
into sandy barrens), which mac e 
tarium - - ^han once have I 
lain 
him, drinking of 
“Congress” or 
could furnish at ten cents a glass. 
There .arc two varieties of woodsy sine 
One is dry, warm and aromatic, pervadecl by 
the delicate emanations of leaves and wooc, oi 
redolent of Wintergreen, wild Grape or bas- 
safras, the pungent Pennyroyal or the t ui- 
riferous Pines, Hemlocks and Cedars. He 
other is merely that of cool, moist ground, 
damp leaf-mold and decaying wood and 
earth-breathing Fungi. These latter, doubt¬ 
less, are not the spots for camping out, but 
I confess to a liking for them. When I catch 
even a whitt’, as I pass along the wooded 
road or cross a bridge over a woodland 
stream, I seem to have got a deeper breath 
and a more soothing touch of Mother Earth 
than anjwvhere else. I smell to-dajf (with 
the organ of memory) the black mould of a 
swampy forest through whoso paths, boi- 
dered by canals full of a wine-colored water, 
[ waUced to school in my small boyhood. 
It is an annual necessity for me to get the 
genuine greenwood smell, brewed only in 
the confined still-room of the woods; and 1 
am conscious of a virtue passing into iny 
jaded nerves, as soon as I have inhaled the 
first stoamj' gush of its frankincense and 
myrrh. 
I think that the ethical idea is more pre¬ 
dominant over the merely icsthetic in this 
one of the senses than in any of the others. 
How naturally does the poet say that the 
actions of the just “smell sweet," as well as 
blossom, in the dust. Old .Jacob showed his 
knowledge and love of XatureandGod alike, 
when he spoke of “the smell of a field which 
the Lord hath blessed.'’ Its religious asso¬ 
ciations are primeval and universal. Fra¬ 
grance is everj'where the emblem, if not the 
instrument, of worship. Wlicn His people 
oll'er Him a pure ofl’ering, .Jehovah “smells a 
sweet savor." The poet llius addresses llic 
flowers: 
“ Vo matin woi-rtliippois! wlio bcmliiiff lowly 
IJoforo tlio npi ison .siin, God’s lidicss oyc, 
Tlirow IVoni your clialioos a.sweet and lioly 
Jnceiiso on liigli! 
“’.N'eatli cloislorcd bonj{lis each Moral boll lliat 
swingol li, 
And lolls lls porfnmo on tlio pa.ssinK air, 
.Makes Sabliatli In llio Molds, and over rliiKOtli 
A oall lo jn-ayor!” 
— /Jr. /’’. jV. Znl/rwkk in (Jhrinlid.n. JiiMli- 
ijnnwr. 
1 In., was dry enough for a powder 
but the cell. Us .parts was 
magav-me. (dampness and 
^‘■®",r'tLre wi a crisp and el.astic feel in 
••of the dwelling; the farmer and all 
the 
T . hcrilth and sprightly vigor were 
steel, he. _^ exception. The 
DET HOUSES AND HEALTH. 
At a recent convention of tlie Mieliio-nii 
'I'ile .Makers, Prof. H. 0. Keilzio related "jio 
following ineident.s in evidence of the ini- 
poi’tanee of selecting a di’y situation for a 
residence.’ 
Two brothers in Vermont, of strong and 
vigorous stock, and giving eipnii promiHc of 
a long and active life, married wives corre¬ 
sponding in promise of future activity. Tliey 
had both ehosen the liealtliiest of all calliip-’s 
—farming. One of the brothers built his 
house in an open and sunny spot where ' the 
soil and sulwoll were dry; shade .trees and 
embowering jibants liad a hard time of ii 
eminds one 
The other brother built h.s house m a 
bca Uiful shady nook, where the trees seemed 
to stretch their protecting arms m benedic- 
Hon over the modest home. Springs fed by 
he neighboring hills burst forth near h.s 
house and others by his barns; his yard 
wasLalw.ays green even in driest time, for 
the life blood of the hills seemed to burst 
out all about him in springs and tiny rivu¬ 
lets But the ground was alw.ays .wet, the 
cellar never dry, the w.alls of the room of¬ 
ten had a clammy feel, the clothes mildewed 
in the closets, and the I.read moulded in the 
pantry. For a time their vigor enabled them 
to bear up ag.ainst these depiessing influ¬ 
ences; cliildren were born of app.arent vigor 
and promise, but these, one by one, passed 
awa}’’ under the touch of diphtheria, cioup, 
and pneumonia; the mother went into a de¬ 
cline anil died of consumption before her 
liflicth liirthday, and the father still lives, 
but is tortured and crippled by rheumatism. 
PLANT TEEES. 
There are portions of every farm, not well 
adapted to cultivation of the soil, where trees 
will grow if permitted, saj'S H. X. How.ard, 
in the Xatioiial Farmer. In the clearing up 
of new farms, instead of tlie wholesale, 
sweeping destruction of all forest trees, therS 
are alwajbs certain spots .vhere trees may be 
left wliere tlie soil is not worth the trouble 
of cutting oil'the timber, and M'hcre the tim¬ 
ber, if left to groM', .vould remain a sourec 
of profit and income. 
On all old farms there are also spots which 
the plow never reaches, but which, if planted 
in trees, .vould reclaim something lost. The 
rich, alluvial pastures of cvcr.y farm arc 
best utilized by tilling the soil, while tlie 
more sterile portions arc more useful for the 
growtli of Iruit or forest trees. Such altei'- 
nation of forest and Held is ccouomj' of 
space; it cnlianccs the artistic, bciuitj'and 
liicturesque elVect of farm scenery. Small 
fields, amidst tori’sts, are always found 
everywhere more, fertile, other things being 
equal, tlian large, open liclds without forests. 
In fact, this system of field and forest is 
more economical, more picturesque, more 
gratifying to the .senses, and more healthful 
to man and beast. The farmer .vho adopts 
such systems will be regarded as a national 
benefactor, and will create to himself bust¬ 
ing momiments. Plant trees! 
BUMBLE-BEE AND SMALL BOY, 
•'<0011 will llu. lesllve biimblo.boo 
• ■ ^IIw Hit)o enrol 
Ami ])oI|hIi up rlKhteareftilly 
Ills merry Ulilo slhm. ’ 
Horn, ^^11 uu, «„„m boy ,„o wbod 
'^I’flinb Ilia lUvorllo tree, 
Ami la a lm,,„y, 
'I'l, ' 'IITo' bee. 
l''l’\^''l''‘'l»’Honui boo In Un-n 
lowl no lle eau relieve the burn 
ny I'laslerliig with mud. 
