. California agriculturist and live stock journal. Agriculture -- California; Livestock -- California; Animal industry -- California. California Agriculturist and Live Stock [For the Calipoknia AGRlonT-TtTBisT.] Cive Me the Hand that is Friendry Forever. BY AGNES. ^ §S mortals advance iuto life's iloeponing shadows. The Deed of true frieudship wu all mudt con- fess ; It may come from the hand that is destined to labor, It may come from sweet childhood which lives but to bless; Yet soft p»lm. or hard hand, it matters not never, Give me the hand that is friendly forever. In the whirl o
. California agriculturist and live stock journal. Agriculture -- California; Livestock -- California; Animal industry -- California. California Agriculturist and Live Stock [For the Calipoknia AGRlonT-TtTBisT.] Cive Me the Hand that is Friendry Forever. BY AGNES. ^ §S mortals advance iuto life's iloeponing shadows. The Deed of true frieudship wu all mudt con- fess ; It may come from the hand that is destined to labor, It may come from sweet childhood which lives but to bless; Yet soft p»lm. or hard hand, it matters not never, Give me the hand that is friendly forever. In the whirl of life's duties, we fail to remember Th(5 mauy demaudH human kinduets requires. And greedily gather life's blosBom and sunshine. Whilst broken hearts i)erish and friendship expires ; Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, Give me the band that is friendly forever. When fortune her jewels profusely bestows. We cling to our idols and hold them in fear; Lest friends may prove traitors, and cunningly rob ue Of much that makes living desirable her© ; Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, Give me the hand that is friendly forever. We cast our thoughts round us and proudly exclaim, Our friends are as legion, they'll surely remain. But fortune escapes us ; disease comes in train, When nothing is left us but suffering and pain ; Then soft palm, or hard hand, it matters not never, We'll cling to the hand that js friendly forever. Sowing and Reaping. A sower went out to sow one day. When a city maiden chanced that way ; A sweet, wee maiden with just a ti-ace Of lingering babyhood in her face, And she paused where the farmer sowed bis grain. And uttered a cry half joy, half pain : ** What beautiful things, so golden red And shining 1 Pray ! are they gems ?" she said, *' And why do you bury them imderground Where never a sound of them may be found ? They'd be so pretty for dolly and me To play with under the beecheu-tree I" "Now, Heaven forgive m
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