The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1878-08-14
FARM AND HOUSEHOLD.
THE FARM.


DER us;
Hark! how creations deep, musical chorus,
Never the oceanewaSe faIfers i'm flowing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps
Till from its nourishing stem 1t is riven.
Labor is worshipI'-the wild bee is ringing;
Listeni that eloquent whisper upspringing
Speaks to thy soul from out nature great
From the dark cloud flows the life giving
shower;
From the rough sod blows the toft-breathing
From the small insect, the rich coraI-bower;
Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his
part.
Labor is lifel Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wonnd, for the dark rust as
Flowers droop and die in the stiffness Of
noon.
Labor is glory 1.-The flying cloud Iighteps;
Only the waving wind changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the eark future frightens;
Play the sweet keys wouldst thou Keep them
in tune.
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us
Rest from sin promptings that ever entreat
Rest from world sirens that lure us to i'll.
Work-and pure slumbers shall wait on thy
work~tROu shalt ride over cares coming bill
Lie not down wearied meath wo's weeping
willow;
Labor is healthl Lot the husbandman reap
ing,
How through his veins goes the life current
leaping!
How his strong arm. in his stalwart pride
True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides!
Labor is wealth-in the sea the pearl groweth;
Rich the queens robe from the fine cocoon
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth;
Temple and statue the marble block hides.
PRACTICAL AND SENTIMENTAL SIDES OF FARM
LIFE.
Poets have sung the delights of the farm
er'S life in strains so enchanting that one
might wonder why all the world has not
forsaken every other pursuit and betaken
itself to the tilling of the soil. But the
farmer himself, in the unshaded bayfield, or
plodding in the clayey furrow at the tail of
his pillow, with a freeholders right sticking
to his boot, or bending, with aching back,
between the corn rows or breastlng the win
ter storms in the performance of imperative
duties, looks at his life from a different
point of view. To him his life appears as
full of toll and care and evil chances as that
of any other toiler. And true it is, the life
of an ordinary farmer is hard, with too little
TO soften It-tOo much of work, too little of
play But as true is what the poet sang so
long ago: Thrice happy are the husband
men If they could but see their blessings"
for they have independence, more than any
Others who by the sweat of the brow earn
their bread, and the pure air of heaven to
breathe, and the blessed privilege of daily
communion with nature.
1t is not easy for the farmer to see any
beauty in his enemies-the meadows full of
daisies with which he Is forever fighting or
by which he has been ANONYMOUSLY con-
OTarod- ha anprOaphinO anE of OO1dar
rods along the borders of the fields, aud the
bristling bayonets of the Canadian invaders,
the thistles. How few farmers, or other peo-
pie for that matter, see in the climbing
bushes of the dawnlDg day, or the gorgeous
painting of its close, or in the perfect day
itself, anything but the foretelling of fair or
foul weather; or notice the ways Of any I'M
tanned bird or beast. except that the crows
come to pull the corn, the hawks to catch the
chickens and the foxes to steal the lambs and
turkeys However, the farmer generally does
feel thrill of pleasure when, in the hazy
softness OF February or March day he hears
the cav OF the first carbon seeking, hungry
crow. 1.-THE heart of winter is broke" InApril
when the fields begin to show a suspicion of
coming green and give forth an odor of
spring, and the dingy snow banks along the
fences are daily dwindliDg, he welcomes the
carol of the first bluebird and is glad to hear
the robin utter his restless note from the
boughs of the old apple tree; and the clear
voice of the new-come meadow lark strikes
him as not altogether unmusical; and when
he hears the plsintive cry of the grass plOver
he is sure spring has come. and then thinks
Of the small birds no more till the first blasts
of returning winter sweep over tie care trees
and frozen fields, when. all at once he be-
came aware that the troubadours are gone.
He sees that the brave little chickadee re-
mains faithful to his post, and feels that his
,I,<
of winter, as does the reedy piping of the
nut hatch and the voice of the dowry, fuller
of life than of music, and the discordant
note of the blue jay, who, clad In bit of
summer sky, loudly proclaims his presence;
but the singers are gone, and he misses
them.-August Scribner.
AGRICULTURAL JOURNALS
A correspondent of the Kentucky Live
Stock Record complains that agricultural
journals are not worth much TO farmers with
their conflicting theories, and mentions the
cutting of hay as to time and method, as an
instance with so many diverse theories in
the press concerning 1t, and cause the idea
that hook farming is at discount A
man must profit by his own experience after
this, and before closing his letter he gives
his own idea Of cutting hay. The Record in
commenting upon this communication says
the following sensible things: sour CORES
what others do, and so he denounces what
they do; this is give advice in journal or
newspaper. According to him, his knowl-
edge was valuable before he printed il, but
now that il is printed it is valueless simply
because it is in journal, that it has become
''Dook farming" Cur friend should know
that "book farming is practical knowl-
edge reduced to writing and printing Men
once wrote theories in farmin0, but now
men merely record experience, or what they
think experience or the result of experiment
or obveTsation. Does it become worthless
by being recorded? We quite agree with
him that sheep and cattle will not thrive as
well on ripe timothy as horses will, but our
experience in many years of feeding is that
timothy cut In its bloom is better and more
digestible and nutntive for horses as well as
cattle and sheep than when cut quite green
and quite ripe. AS mere grass before bloom
timothy has got the feeding quality that
many other grasses have, but when cut in
the bloom no grass made into hay exceeds it: