Landlords dunning, tenants shunning;
Laughing, crying, dancing, sighing—
Spiders dying, feathers flying,
Shaking bed rugs, killing bed bugs,
Scampering rats, mewing cats,
Whining dogs, grunting hogs,
What’s the matter? moving day!
Country Pursuits.—How happy is the condition of the farmer, and of country people generally, at this fine season; how great their privileges, living amidst the fields which are now putting on their green attire, the woods whose buds are bursting into leaf, and the flowers which are beginning to display their bloom! How great is their privilege, instead of being amid the din of carts and wagons, to be cheered by the minstrelsy of birds during the day, and soothed at night by the plaintive notes of the frogs, which issue from every valley. How fragrant the air—how cheerful, healthful, peaceful, the occupation of sowing, planting and pruning! Let no man living in the country, envy city people and their fine houses. Let no man, whose lot is to labor with his hands, envy those who live without labor. Of all persons, those who live without bodily labor are most likely to miss the great ends of life—health, peace of mind, and contentment; none so likely to obtain them, as those who toil with their hands. There is many a rich man, who has broken down his constitution by care, anxiety, and mental exertion, that would gladly resign his houses, and horses and carriages, for the good appetite, the sweet sleep, the cheerful serenity of the day laborer. I once heard of a beggar, who applied to a rich man for relief from hunger. “Hunger?” said the rich man;—“hunger! why, my friend, I would give all I am worth for such an appetite. Hunger, indeed!—why, you are infinitely less a beggar than I. Sometimes you suffer, perhaps, for want of food; still, in general, you can get a crust of bread, or a piece of cold meat; and with your appetite, these are delicious. Thus, eating is, after all, a source of great enjoyment to you. But I have no appetite; I never eat but with aversion. Thus, in the midst of abundance and seeming luxury, through loss of health, I am worse than a beggar.”
But let us turn our attention to the practical matters of the farm and garden. May is the season for planting Indian corn, sowing oats, and summer wheat. This latter, as well as winter wheat, has been much neglected in New England for some years, from an idea that it is not a safe crop. But take my advice, and try it again. Be assured that the raising of wheat may be made very profitable in New England.
Fessenden is of opinion that it might be well for the population of these United States, were we to consume as articles of diet more poultry and less butcher’s meat. In France, poultry forms an important part of the live stock of the farmer; and it has been said by well informed persons, that among the French, the poultry yards supply a much greater quantity of food to the mass of the community than the shambles.