I fancy some farmer in a cold winter storm
Ensconced in his woolens, all buttoned and warm,
Abroad in the field and looking around,
To see if the cattle are all safe and sound,
When, turning to go to his warm, cozy home,
To his ear there cometh, or seemeth to come
This voice from a creature, cold, shivering and dumb,
As 'tis said once of old that the recreant Prophet,
Received from his donkey, some counsel and profit;
So I hope, my good sirs, that you will not decline
Admonition to hear, though it come from the kine.

"I pray, good master, ere you go,
Hear poor moolie's plaintive low.
I've given milk as you well know,
To nurture Charlie, Jane and Joe.
Nay, do not turn away and sputter,
Not only milk, I've furnished butter
To you and all your kith and kin.
That come and go your house within.
All this, good sir, you can't dispute,
Albeit 'tis uttered by a brute.
Patient, I never kick the pail,
Although the milkmen often rail,
And kick and strike me with the stools,
I think such men are wicked fools:
And if a Queen, I should not falter
To make them dangle from the halter.
Kindness, methinks you men might learn
Even from Cows, would meet return.
The flies they sting us to the quick,

We switch our tails and get a kick,

And then are chased around the ward,

With thumps and blows, my eyes, how hard.

My flesh is gone, my blood is thin,

My hair it bristles on my skin,

Though not quite starved, I'm poorly fed,

Protected by no barn or shed,

I wonder that I am not dead.

Methinks the least that you can do,
In common fairness 'twixt us two,
Is to afford some humble shed,
With straw enough to make my bed.
Through horrid storms of cold and rain,
Unsheltered on the earth I've lain;
Who wonders that I should complain?
Since I have now in meeting spoke,
My life-long silence being broke,
And, ere I ope my mouth again,
To speak to woman, boys or men,
'Tis likely I shall pass the bourn,
From whence no travelers return,
I pray you kindly hear me prattle
A single word for the other cattle.
From old and young there comes a cry
For shelter, shelter warm and dry.
This you may hear as well as I;—
Who can this touching wail deny?
They squeal, and bleat, and low, and neigh,
Shelter; for shelter we humbly pray."

The tongue is a weapon that females will use,
The lords of creation sometimes to abuse,
But certainly here you cannot but allow,
That reason and justice are with the old cow.
And I do feel to witness to what she has said,
And with her to claim for the cattle, a shed.
Like the slovenly culture of which I have spoken,
This neglect of the herds is another sure token
Of the thriftless and uneconomical ways,
Which our manner of farming so often displays.
We miss it, we miss it as words cannot tell,
In doing so much, and not doing it well.

I thought when I used to read HOMER the Greek,
"Twas a left-handed compliment he used to speak
Of JUNO the stately, great JUPITER'S bride,
And call her the Queen passing fair, tho' ox-eyed,

But once having looked on the fine Durham breed,
The best of all cattle to raise or to feed,

Then censure no longer I cast on the Greek,
Their eyes are so full, good-tempered and meek.
And a compliment rare I consider it now,
To say of a woman, she's eyes like a cow.

And shall we forget him the brave noble steed,
"His neck clothed with thunder," his hoofs shod with
speed?

With fierceness and anger he swallows the ground,

Or paweth the valley where trumpets resound;
Rejoicing in strength he will still shout, ha! ha!
As the smoke of the battle he smelleth afar,
The keen sword may glisten, the quiver may rattle,
But with nostril distended he'll rush to battle.
Onward through carnage amid the armed crowd,
His rider he bears aloft, fearless and proud.
The spear and the shield may be flashed in his sight,
But dauntless he scorns to turn backward in flight,
And yet gentle as brave, when beneath the fair hand,
His gallop sweeps graceful as waves to the strand.
He was given you farmers, to own and to use,
And not to o'rtask him, neglect or abuse.
Kindly use him when young, use him kindly when old,
The mule e'en by kindness, is easiest controlled.
Then cease, madman, cease, those harsh cruel blows.
That young horse is doing as well as he knows,
Train him slowly and gently with patience and skill,
And cheerfully soon, he will serve you at will.
"Tis barbarous and wrong, as you cannot dispute,
With lashes to torture an innocent brute.

Of horses that balk full nine cases in ten,

The blame if discovered, would rest on the men.
You've no patience, you say with a bad balky horse,
But the ruffian who fools and then whips him, is worse;
This course you may palliate, excuse, or defend,
It is wrong every time, let me tell you, my friend.

Use them kindly when young, kindly use them when old,
So useful, yet noble, submissive, yet bold.

I sometimes make speeches you know, to the masses,
But now crave permission to talk to the lassies.

And first of all, girls, I would willingly know,
If you know how to cook, wash dishes and sew.
"Know how to cook! Do you think me a fool?"
Nay, nay lassie, dear, I must pray you keep cool,
For over the land, all around, should you look,
You'll find very few, who know well how to cook.
Can you make us good bread that main staff of life,
To prepare which right well, proves the skillful House-
wife?

Or do you use risings, that people call salt?
If so, I must say you are greatly in fault.
Hop yeast is the best, dispute it who may,
And the best it will prove I venture to say.
Hot biscuit, puffed up with the tart saleratus
Is death to the stomach and its apparatus;
And often, alas! undigested our dinner,
A saint will transform, and be turned to a sinner.
Old dogmas and creeds their lances may shiver,
But original sin has its seat in the liver;

A liver that's healthful from dark bile set free,

With a smile clothes the Heavens, the Earth and the Sea;
But a liver deranged, invests them with gloom
As deep as the shadows which rest on the tomb.
But for this to the 'pathies I never resort;
They are powerless to cure any ills of the sort;
But if of blue demons possessed in this wise
By fasting and toil, you must them exorcise.
Oh! how many houses all garnished and swept,
To such fiends wide open bad cooking hath kept.
This art culinary, then, girls, study well;

"Twill save us from horrors that words cannot tell.

Once reading these lines to my dear little girl,

With roguish blue eye and a soft flaxen curl,

Looking up, she replied, with a smile and a wink, "O'er-eating like cooking hurts folks, don't you think?"

Coffee, yellow, clear, rich-do you know how to make?
And match with a tender and juicy beefsteak?
The outside well browned and the inside left rare-
Such steak, bread and coffee, make excellent fare.
And when rich golden butter is added thereto,
Such butter, dear madam, as that made by you,
Both yellow and hard with the milk all pressed out,
The product of good cream kept perfect, no doubt,
In those pans made so sweet by the scalding each day,
And worked with a ladle that is just the right way;
For hands in the butter should never be placed;
'Tis a mode that's untidy, and injures the taste.
'Twas but a few years since as I now well remember,
On a tasting committee I acted as member,
And found there good cheeses, as well as good bread,
With butter as rich too, as ever was spread;

All of which, just as good, I have never a fear,
You will find here by looking around you this year.

I cannot forbear, my good friends, ere I close
To speak of the honor your calling bestows.
O, be proud, sons of toil, of the good farmer's life,
Of forums and courts far away from the strife,
Away from the bickerings and hagglings of trade,
Surrounded with scenes the Almighty hath made;
From dogmas all stale and from vile drugs away,
'Mid the waving of corn and the rustling of hay,
No clients to please, and no patrons to flatter,

They may smile or may frown, what to you does it matter?

Both clients and patients will scold at the bill,

When called on for payment for pleading or pill.

But from nature's sweet scenes not a murmur is heard, Save the noise of the brook and the voice of the bird; Those scenes which so noiselessly day after day,