Br farming and kindred terms, we and the reader, this present writing, will consent to understand what pertains to the useful, not the amateur cultivation of the earth. A farmer, we will agree to consider as one who relies chiefly or solely upon the products of his farm for his support An income, derived from other sources, and lavished upon land in the country, does not constitute a man a farmer, at least not in any sense that we intend now to employ the term - no more than the firing (blank cartridges) (with white kid gloves) on Boston Common constitutes "grim-visaged war!"

The conditions and circumstances, the outgoings and the incomings of the life of the New England farmer, of whom and for whom we write, are of such a nature, that he cannot devote much time to the cultivation, or much money to the gratification of his taste. The short summers and long winters of a rigorous climate, the unproductiveness of a stubborn soil, the high prices of field-labor, militate strongly against a life of elegant leisure. The New England farmer must work too much, to study much; he must build cheaply, rather than elegantly; he must take more care for convenient cart-paths, than for gracefully curving drives; he must interest himself in patches of Corn and Potatoes, rather than in ornamental plantations; his artificial water must relieve the necessities of quadrupeds, whether it pleases the eye of bipeds or not, and so of the rest.

His esthetic operations should, therefore, hardly extend beyond the aim to avoid giving offence. The few hints which follow may afford some idea of what may be accomplished, even within such apparently straightened limits, and without exceeding that rigid economy which, in order to be successful, it seems necessary that a New England farmer should observe.

The position of the house, etc, is one of the very first, and most important considerations. The group of buildings, (meaning the house and all subordinate out-buildings, as the barn, the granary, etc.,) should by all means be upon one side of the public high-way. The house may stand anywhere from fifty to three or four hundred feet from the road, according as a good site may be found for it The frontage should be towards the south or south-east; or otherwise so that the most important rooms shall look out upon the finest prospect; but the front of the house should not be governed at all by the lines of the highway upon which it may be erected; for it is not of the slightest consequence - except in little fifty-by-hundred feet lots - whether the lines of the house and street are "square with one another" or not The out-buildings should, as much as practicable, be so located, that the house may serve as one of the objects by which they are screened from the street; they should always be as much in the rear of the house as convenience will admit of.

If the public road is so little traveled that it does not essentially differ from a private drive-way or approach, the buildings may be located quite near to it, perhaps within twenty-five or fifty feet But, in all other cases, five or six times those distances is near enough for comfort or convenience; a closer proximity to the street serving no other purpose than to jeopardize the proprietor's reputation for good taste.

* From the Practical Farmer.

From a greedy desire to see and be seen, or for some other reasons, the Yankee has always had an inveterate habit of squatting, with his buildings, close by the way-side. Not content indeed with this, he often spreads himself out (or straddles) quite across the road - planting his house upon one side of it, and his barn upon the other. The passing stranger is thus compelled to make his way directly through the group of buildings, and Jonathan's household gods are every day invaded by the noise and dust and gawky-eyes of public travel. This arrangement of farm-buildings would doubtlessly have long ago fallen into disrepute, were it not for the excellent opportunity which it affords for gratification of a hopelessly insatiable curiosity. Indeed a true Yankee will often put himself to still greater inconvenience and exposure for the sake of finding out the business of the stranger who passes his door! and the curiosity is of a nature to grow hungry by feeding. Until this idle inquisitiveness is somewhat overcome, it is not worth while to attempt to cultivate a taste for what is most beautiful in rural life.

The architecture of a New England farm-house should be plain, solid, and substantial. The buildings ought not to be piled up story above story, like a block of city buildings, but rather spread out and resting upon the ground in quiet repose, like a group of haymakers taking a lunch beneath the friendly shade of a wide-spreading oak. The expression of the architecture should be in a high degree indicative of that comfort and unobtrusive independence, which God seems to have intended as the reward of those who labor in this, the most ancient, most ennobling of all industrial pursuits. The frail ornaments and gingerbread work stuck upon so many modern structures, are widely out of place upon a farmer's home, which beauty, no less than convenience, requires to rest broadly upon the ground, "expressing in its leading forms the strength, honesty, frankness, and sterling goodness of the farmer's character." The ornaments should be few, simple, and bold; rustic, rather than delicate; strong, rather than highly finished.

The best two styles are the plain bracketed, or the rural gothic ; and the effect of the whole place is greatly heightened by a quiet unobtrusive tone of color for all the buildings.

Of the interior, the thing most essential is that it should be convenient for those who do the housework. Some dwellings are so awkwardly arranged - with so much of the useful sacrificed to the genteel - that two females can with difficulty perform the labor which one would accomplish in a house of more convenient construction.