The Cecil Whig., 1886-05-15

where the barn is magnificent and tn,
house is only an adjunct. Perhaps h,
was more devoted to town-mcetin.
than TO ploughiag; and looking a
what he had to plough, and seein!
what he accomplished in town-meeting
history excuses him.
The wonder is that while dragging
the sea and scratching the rocks to sc
the means of sustaining life, he should
have had SO much time for the cultiva
ton of ideas, and for nursing the vir.
tues and the indomitable spirit tha
were to stamp their impress upon the
| continent. Owing to his narrow means
of living, the notion got abroad that he
was penurious. But he gave what he
had to give, and when you come tc
the question of generosity, in the gift
of vital force, principles, ideas, mer
who make states, and women who
create families, and whose beauty and
modesty are the charm of society,
think the New England Farmer was
the most liberal man in the world. Il
he had had farm and been a farmer,
you can judge how the rest of the
country would have got along, who
would have given it enterprise and sta
bility, who would have made inven-
tions for it, and who would have in
sured it-either in this world or the
next.
But as the son of a New England
Farmer l can not leave the matter
here. For l remember the old farm,
house, and the wide fireplace beside
which | used to sit and hear my grand
mother tell how when she was a little
girl, and the redcoats occupied Ply
mouth and Kingston, she used to put
her shoes under her pillow every night,
expecting that any moment she might
have to flee into the woods to escape
the British and how she heard all day
the cannonading at the battle of Bunker
Hill. was in fact present, as were
all the New England Farmer boys OF
my time, at this battle Of Bunker Hill,
and at the capture Of Ticonderoga,
and at the surrender of Burgoyne.
There fingered in every farm house the
heroic spirit come down from the
French and Indian wars and the Revo-
lutionary times. The British enemy
was reality. There in the kitchen
hung the Continental musket and the
cart.idge-box.
This, however, is not what l started
to say. You may have read that to
them who seek first the kingdom OF
heaven everything else shall be added.
This, | firmly believe, was the case of
the New England Farmer. His farm
house had a mighty cellar, provisioned
like the vaults of medieval monas-
terry for six months siege. On one
side was portentous row of cider
barrels on the other, tier on tier of
ruddy apples in vast bins the pota-
toes and other vegetables, and in their
proper places barrels of salted meat
and apple-sauce. In this subterranean
store-house l can see now the frost
glisten on the walls when the boy eX-
plored Its recesses by the light Of a
tallow candle, sent by his grandfather
to draw jug of cider from the har-
dest barrel. In the cool outer pantry
hung dozens of chickens and turkeys,
the quarters of slaughtered steer, and
on shelves lay rows of hardy winter
pies. In the garret were suspended
the strings of dried apples, and there
were the tubs of maple sugar and the
heaps of butternuts and hickory-nuts.
The vast wood shed was piled with
fuel. 1t makes the tears come into a
patriots eyes to think of 1t all. will
not dwell on it.
In all the wind-swept country the
snow was piled to the fence-tops,
and drifted mountain-high in the
roads Energy excavated this or
surmounted it, sleiohs were abroad,
and the merry bells we're heard all
over the township. All roads led to
the Westinghouse, and everybody,
young and old, turned out to the
Sunday service, where in default OF
furnace and stove the sermon was
hot enough to keep the blood in
circulation. Each farmhouse was
more or less centre Ct comfort and
hospitality. Social life had vitality.
There we're merry force and hearty
enjoyment in the sleigh-rides, par
ties, and holiday frolics. The peo-
pie were quite wide-awake. The
metropolis drew its men of affairs
from these country homes, and the
men of affairs knew where to look
for the pretty girls whose beauty
and good sense and intelligence
made them leaders in metropolitan
society. Every house had some
books, not many but classics, anC
they were read. Perhaps if there
had been more agriculture, there
would have been less intellectual
life. These so-called farmers were
organizing great missionary enter
prises, concerning themselves abou
slavery, and in perpetual agitation
over something. All me! woulc
there were more such farmers
Hybcy'S Magaeine.
| AT REST.
TLey lie at rest our blessed dead
| The deWs drOD cool above their head