persons, upon whom so much depends, and, by showing in which direction
their prominent faults lie, endeavor to persuade them to accept a better
standing in the social state, where they are so much needed.

A man shows in his daily acts the early education of his home. The
impressions there made upon him in his young and growing life are
proverbially deep and abiding. The circumstances which develop the
character of the good farmer in one town, are the circumstances which
develop the good farmer wheresoever he may be; but the circumstances
which make so many of our farmers at this day, coarse in speech, vulgar
in manners, untidy in dress and in the arrangement of their farms and
their habitations, ignorant, thoughtless, thriftless, indifferent,
wasteful, lazy, are not arbitrary circumstances, but pliant and
yielding, willing instruments, in the hands of good workmen, to raise,
elevate, and instruct all who can be brought within their influence.

The agriculturist who combines with his knowledge and skill in farming a
refined taste for the simple elegancies which may form a part and parcel
of every well-ordered homestead, will often grieve at the neglect,
indolence, and ignorance, shown by the too sad condition of many of our
so-called American farms.

The farmhouse of this waste place we call a farm, is located as near as
possible to the dusty highway which passes through the country.
Unpainted, or unwhitewashed, without a front fence, without shade trees
or flowers near it, or by it, it stands like a grim and sombre sentinel,
guarding a harsh and lonely existence, at once a prophecy and a warning.
There is no home feeling in it. Everything connected with the internal
movements or the external management of the place is in full view: the
woodpile with its chips scattered about over a radius of fifty yards; a
number of old, castaway, and condemned vehicles lie where they were left
after their last use; mounds of rubbish and old brushwood, weeds, soiled
clothing, farming tools, and implements of husbandry, are here and
there, uncared for, unnoticed, and neglected. The poultry, pigs, and
cattle he possesses, wander about the door, at once front and rear, or,
unobstructed by any serviceable fence, trespass upon the newly planted
field or unmown meadows, getting such living as fortune places in their
way. The barn may be without doors, the barnyard without a gate or bars,
and in full view from every passer by. The sty and