THE WISCONSIN FARM ER.



        THE HOME.

        THE OLD HONSSThAD.

Wimen fl1 t the skies grow wairm aend bright,
And fluph with gold the bours,
Aid in her pale, faint robe, the Spring
Iscalihg up the flo wres:
When children, with utulippered feet.
Go trth with heart of glee
To the straitlit ,ied even furrrowd
Where the hellow coril must lx':
What a beautiful etbolimenent
Of ease, devoid of pride,
Is .he ged old-lsohiole- houlentead.
  A ith d