It doD t pay to be eaught in the spring without a wood pilo largo enough to last twelve monthu; or to open the gatea and let your stoet into ino neias as soon as a bare spot appears ; or to keep it on short ratious, so that when it does go to graas it will take half the gummer to get thrifty and strong. It don't pay to leave the work of mendïng your tools and selocting and securing your seed nntil the day you want to use thcrn, thereby causing co9tly delay. It doo't pay to sow or plant poor aeed because you happen to have it on hand. It don't pay to leave weak places in the lenoe in tne nope tbat the cattle won'tfind them; and if you keep sheop, it don't pay to let them run at large in tho spring until they beconie trampa and cannot be kept at home by any ordinary fence. It don't pay to neglect cows, cwes or sows at the time they are dropping their young. It don't pay to let the spring rains wash the value out of the manure that has accumulated in the barn-yard during the past winter. It don't pny to let the hens lay onder the barn and be eaten up by the skunks. It don't pay to put off any kind of spring work until the last moment, nor does it pay to work land when it is too wet. It don't pay to lot the turnips, cabbages, beets or even appleg in the cellar rot and breed disease; lor if you havo more than you can eat or sell, the stock will be profited by (hem. It don't pay to summer a poor cow simply because no one will buy her. It don't pay to sell a heifer calf from your best cow to the butcher, simply because it will cost you more to raise it than you can buy a scrub for next fall. It don't pay to keep banking around the house until it rots the sills. It don't pay to be stingy in sowing grass seed, or try to live without a garden. Finally, it don't pay to provoko the women by leaving them to cut the stove wood or to carry it from the door-yard or to remind you every morning in haying or mowing that you must saw enough beioro you go to work to last the day through.