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which most persons are so fond of: but in a few weeks it becomes sour; and if it be left exposed to the air, it will in time turn to vinegar.
8. And what merry times boys have, in the fall of the year, in nut-gathering—and not only the boys, but the squirrels also. After a few hard frosts the shucks of the hickory-nut, and the burs of the chestnut open, and their fruit falls to the ground. Sometimes boys climb the trees, and shake off the nuts, or they beat them off with a pole. Boys gather black walnuts, and butternuts also.
9. Gaily chattering to the clattering
Leap the squirrels red and gray.
Drop the red leaves all the day. [Lesson LXXIX. The story of the farmer's life is here continued, from page 129. Plowing and sowing in autumn. The fall-sown grain. Gathering apples. Winter apples. Making cider. Nut-gathering. Closing lines
poetry. What trees have the reddest leaves in autumn ?]
Five things observe with care';
And how', and when', and where'.
1. Has the farmer any work to do in the fields, after the fall-sowing, and the gathering of the apples' ? Have all his crops been gathered' ? Has his Indian corn been secured'? It is now that his corn harvest begins — in those pleasant autumn days that are called the “Indian summer," when the air is almost as soft and balmy as in spring. time.
2. Sometimes the corn is cut up by the roots, and drawn off to some grassy spot, where the ears of corn are husked, and then stored away in the barn, the corn-crib, or the corn-house. The corn. stalks are bound up in bundles, to serve as fodder for the cattle in winter.
3. Sometimes the corn is husked where it grew, after the stalks have been cut off as low down as the ear. Sometimes the ears of corn are picked off before they are husked, and carried to the barn, there to be stripped of their husks in cold weather, when but little out-door work can be done.
4. There is a picture of a corn-husking, or husk. ing-bee, at the head of this lesson, and this is the story of it. The old man who lived in the cottage which we see, was poor, and he was sick also, and he did not know how he should get his corn husked. He was greatly troubled about it; for he needed the corn, to make Indian meal of it for himself and his family; and he needed the cornstalks, and husks, for his cow.
5. His neighbors talked the matter over, and they agreed that they would make a husking-bee for him. So one cool but pleasant November evening they went—more than twenty of them and the old man knew nothing about it—and by midnight they had husked out all his corn, and put it up nicely in the corn-crib. They had a pleasant time.
6. I wish I could have seen the old man, and heard what he said, when he looked out of the window the next morning, and found his corn-crib full of corn, and the corn-stalks handsomely stacked up near by. I think a tear started in his eye, as he said, “My good neighbors have done this. May the Lord bless them for all their kindness to me.”
[LESSON LXXX. The story of the farmer's life in autumn is here continued. The corn harvest - Indian summer. Methods of securing the corn. A corn-husking by moonlight.]
Sighing breezes whisper now';
Misty vale and mountain's brow.
Now December's tempests moan';
O'er the faded earth are strown.
[LESSON LXXXI. is a brief but vivid poetical description of autumn. The “sighing breezes” that announce the departure of summer, give place, in December, to “rushing winds,” and “moaning tempests." What is the meaning of “the leaves in beauty blushing ?”']
WHY CALL ME POOR?
As warmly, brightly on my home,
As on the lordly palace dome.
My lot to bear, where'er it be;
I'll hope a brighter day to see.
While God's rich bounty still is mine:
my all of good I owe
Whom', scorner', owest thou for thine'? [LESSON LXXXII. The answer to the question, “Why call me poor ?" is designed to express the idea that no one is poor who can enjoy the ordi. nary gifts of God's providence, who is contented with his lot, who lives in hope of a brighter day, and who feels that he owes all to God alone.]
1. Go with me to the stream, on this bright summer day,
And I'll show you the brown water-rat at his play;
The quiet of brooks, and the plants they contained.
Man has wronged him, and he is in fear of us all.
And the reed-sparrow by him is singing his song.
Like a hermit of old at his mossy door-sill'!
And some very queer motions he'll show us anon.
And again he is up ’mong those arrow-head leaves ;
He has made up his mind on these dainties to dine!
In a water like this, with these water-plants nigh.