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Farmer John; or, “the Best of a Journey is Getting Home.”

” OME from his journey Farmer John To see how sometimes, while the man, HE Arrived this morning safe and

Rakes and

scrapes

for all he can, sound.

The wife spends, every year, His black coat off, and his old clothes on, Enough you would think for a score of "Now I'm myself !” says Farmer John;

wives, And he thinks, “I'll look around." To keep them in luxury all their lives ! Up leaps the dog; “Get down, you pup! The town is a perfect Babylon Are you so glad you would eat me up?" To a quiet chap," says Farmer John. The old cow lows at the gate to meet him;

“ You see, old Bay,
“Well, well, old Bay!

You see, old Gray,
Ha, ha, old Gray!

I'm wiser than when I went away.
Do you get good feed when I am away?"
You have not a rib!” says Farmer John;

“I've found out this,” says Farmer John : “ The cattle are looking round and sleek,

“That happiness is not bought and sold, The colt is going to be a roan,

And clutched in a life of waste and hurry, And a beauty, too; how he has grown!

In nights of pleasure and days of worry : We'll wean the calf next week."

And wealth isn't all in gold, Says Farmer John, “When I've been off,

Mortgage and stocks and ten per cent., To call you again about the trough,

But in simple ways and sweet content, And watch you, and pet you, while you

Few wants, pure hopes, and noble ends, drink,

Some land to till, and a few good friends, Is a greater comfort than you can think!"

Like you, old Bay,
And he pats old Bay,

And you, old Gray :-
And he slaps old Gray:

That's what I have learned by going "Ah, this is the comfort of going away!

away.” “For after all,” says Farmer John,

And a happy man is Farmer John: “ The best of a journey is getting home.

Oh, a rich and happy man is he; I've seen great sights; but would I give

He sees the peas and mangolds growing, This spot, and the peaceful life I live,

The corn in tassel, the buckwheat blowing, For all their Paris and Rome ?

And fruit on vine and tree; These hills for the city's stifled air,

The large, kind oxen look their thanks And big hotels all bustle and glare;

As he rubs their foreheads and strokes their Land all houses, and roads all stones,

flanks! That deafen our ears and batter our bones?

The doves light round him, and strut and
Would you, old Bay ?
Would you, old Gray ?

Says Farmer John, “I'll take you, too, That's what one gets by going away!

And you, old Bay, “There money is king,” says Farmer John,

And you, old Gray, “ And fashion is queen : and its mighty

Next time I travel so far away!” queer

J.T. TROWBRIDGE.

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Farmer John; or, “the Best of a Journey is Getting Home.”

To see how sometimes, while the man,
Rakes and scrapes for all he can,

The wife spends, every year,
Enough you would think for a score of

wives,
To keep them in luxury all their lives!
The town is a perfect Babylon
To a quiet chap,” says Farmer John.

“You see, old Bay,

You see, old Gray,
I'm wiser than when I went away.

a

a

OME from his journey Farmer John
Arrived this morning safe and

sound. His black coat off, and his old clothes on, "Now I'm myself !” says Farmer John;

And he thinks, “I'll look around.” Up leaps the dog; “Get down, you pup! Are you so glad you would eat me up?" The old cow lows at the gate to meet him ;

“Well, well, old Bay!

Ha, ha, old Gray! Do you get good feed when I am away?" “You have not a rib!” says Farmer John;

"The cattle are looking round and sleek, The colt is going to be a roan, And a beauty, too; how he has grown!

We'll wean the calf next week." Says Farmer John, “When I've been off, To call you again about the trough, And watch you, and pet you, while you

drink, Is a greater comfort than you can think!”

And he pats old Bay,

And he slaps old Gray: "Ah, this is the comfort of going away! "For after all,” says Farmer John,

“The best of a journey is getting home. I've seen great sights; but would I give This spot, and the peaceful life I live,

For all their Paris and Rome ? These hills for the city's stifled air, And big hotels all bustle and glare; Land all houses, and roads all stones, That deafen our ears and batter our bones?

Would you, old Bay ?

Would you, old Gray ? That's what one gets by going away! "There money is king," says Farmer John, "And fashion is qucen: and its mighty

qucer

“ I've found out this,” says Farmer John :

“That happiness is not bought and sold, And clutched in a life of waste and hurry, In nights of pleasure and days of worry:

And wealth isn't all in gold, Mortgage and stocks and ten per cent., But in simple ways and sweet content, Few wants, pure hopes, and noble ends, Some land to till, and a few good friends,

Like you, old Bay,

And you, old Gray :That's what I have learned by going

away.

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