--_Charles Sprague._

568

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been--
A sound which makes us linger;--yet--farewell.

--_Byron._

569

FAREWELL.

If thou dost bid thy friend farewell,
But for one night though that farewell may be,
Press thou his hand in thine.
How canst thou tell how far from thee
Fate or caprice may lead his steps ere that to-morrow comes?
Men have been known lightly to turn the corner of a street,
And days have grown to months,
And months to lagging years, ere they
Have looked in loving eyes again . . . . . .
Yea, find thou always time to say some earnest word
Between the idle talk, lest with thee henceforth,
Night and day, regret should walk.

--_Unknown._

570

MAN AND THE FARM.

It is a common complaint that the farm and farm life are not appreciated
by our people. We long for the more elegant pursuits, or the ways and
fashions, of the town. But the farmer has the most sane and natural
occupation, and ought to find it sweeter, if less highly seasoned, than
any other. He alone, strictly speaking, has a home. How many ties, how
many resources, he has!--his friendship with his cattle, his team, his
dog, his trees; the satisfaction in his growing crops, in his improved
fields; his intimacy with nature, with bird and beast, and with the
quickening elemental forces; his co-operations with the cloud, the sun,
the seasons, heat, wind, rain, frost. It humbles him, teaches him
patience and reverence. Cling to the farm, make much of it, put yourself
into it, bestow your heart and brain upon it.

--_John Burroughs._

571

A HINT TO A FARMER.

Shun thou seats in the shade, nor sleep till the dawn! in the
season
When it is harvest-time, and your skin is parched in the sunshine.

572

MY FATHER.

How beautiful is the following picture by Caroline Anne Bowles, only
child of Captain Charles Bowles, of Blackland, England. Born 1787:

My father loved the patient angler's art,
And many a summer's day, from early morn
To latest evening, by some streamlet's side,
We two have tarried; strange companionship!
A sad and silent man; a joyous child!
Yet those were days as I recall them now