Mr. Ripley spoke of the devotion of the persons about to leave the Association to found "a little colony of their own," for whom he had the highest personal esteem, cemented by years of friendship, counsel and labor together; his sorrow for their departure; his good wishes for them, and his hopes for their present and future welfare, and closed with a sentiment, "The late chief of the Farming Series, Minot Pratt and his family--they can not remain long in _Concord_ without returning to _harmony_" (Concord, Massachusetts, was where our farmer was going), for which the modest gentleman returned thanks for himself and wife in a few kind and earnest words. One after another joined in pleasant remarks, and the simple feast, the music and the conversation were kept up. The ever-present fun and frolic abounded in some corners, but the joke of the evening was perhaps that of the Parson--him of the sharp face and nose, who read so late by the light of the lamp in "Attica"--who commenced his remarks by saying that he desired to offer a sentiment, and must be pardoned if it was of a personal nature. Now the reason why this gentleman got the title of "the Parson" was not from his reading, his gravity or want of gravity, but from the fact of his having been educated for the ministry, which in those days required a great deal more preaching damnation to sinners than now. His unwillingness to do so was the means of his leaving the pulpit, and this gave the pith of the toast or sentiment offered. Parson Capen's speech was sharp. He did not spill over on every occasion. He had no little spurts of wit like a spatter of water on a hot stove, but when he let out his joke it went off like a percussion cap. The attention of the company being secured, he alluded to his present position as a change, he believed, for the better--from his former relation to society when he was preaching against, to the present time when he was working for, humanity; and gave as a toast, "Ephraim Capen--_thrust into_ the pulpit to _damn_ mankind, _thrust out_ of the pulpit to _bless_ mankind." Laughter followed this sharp witticism, and the hours passed quickly on until it was near midnight, when it was suggested that "Old Hundred" be sung, and all joined in the anthem. As the last note died away, the stroke of the clock announced the hour of twelve, and all departed to their houses to sleep, and dream of the pleasant time they had enjoyed. CHAPTER IX. SOCIAL AND PARLOR LIFE. We now pass over some months of the life with few words. I have tried to portray it on the farm as it appeared to me, and leave you to think that it continues on and on, ever in the same general current, through the long, clear days and moonlight nights of summer, and the cooler days and misty evenings of the later season, to the time when the warning comes to the farmer to gather in the ripened products of his labor.