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PUBLISHED BY
EDWARD D. HOWARD,
curiae block.
VOL 39, NO. 19.
SI SBtrklq
nniih Sournal, SmnUh
WARREN,
fa mbam, irulto,
TRUMBULL COUNTY,
Ilimita, (S&uration. local
OHIO, WEDNESDAY,
SntrUigrnrr. anb tjyr 35nns
JANUARY 3, 1 8 55.
of fjjt Datj.
TERMS:
ONE DOLLAR AND FITTT CEXT
WHOLE NO. 1997.
Poetry.
THE REWARD.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Who, looking backward from fail manhood prime.
Sees not the pectre of his misspent time ;
And, through the shade
Of funeral cypress, planted thick behind.
Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind
From his bred dead !
Who bean no trace of passion's evil force I
Who shuns thy stin?,0 terrible remorse f
Who would not cast
Half of this futare from him, but to win
Wakeless oblivion from the wrong and sin
Of the sealed Past ?
Abu ! the ertl which we fain would shun.
We do, and leave the wished -for good undone;
Our strength to-day
Is but to-morrow's weakness, prone tn fall.
Poor, blind, onpromtable servants ail,
Aleve alway.
Tel who, thus looking backward o'er his yean,
feds not his eye-lids wet with grateful tears.
If he hath been
Permitted, weak and sinful as he was.
To cheer and aid, in some ennobling cause.
His fellow men ?
If he hath hidden the outcast, or let In
A ray of sunshine to the cell of sin ;
If he hath lent
Strength to the weak, and, in the hour of need.
Over the suflering, mindless of his creed
Or hue, hath benU
He hath not lived In Tain, and white he gives
The praise to Kim in whom he moves and lives.
With thankful heart,
He gases backward, and with hope before.
Knowing that from his works he nevet morn
Can henceforth part.
THE PHANTOM.
BY BAYARD TAYLOR.
Again I sit within the mansion.
In the old, familiar seat ;
And shade and sunshine chase each other
O'er the carpet at my feel
Bat the sweet-brier's arms hare wrestled upwards
1b the summers that are past;
And the willow trails its branches lower
Than when I saw them last.
They strive to shot the sunshine wholly
From out the haunted room :
To fit the house that once was joyful,
W.-h silence and with gloom.
And many kind, remembered faces.
Within the doorway come
Voices, that wake the sweeter music
Of one that now is dumb.
They ting In tones as glad as ever.
The songs she loved to hear ;
They braid the rose in summer, garlands.
Whose flowers to her were dear.
And stID,her footsteps tn the passage,
iler blushes at the door.
Her timid words of maiden welcome.
Come back to me once more.
And all forgetful of my sorrow.
Unmindful of my pain,
I think she has but newly left me,
And soon win come again.
She stays without, perchance a moment
To dress her dark brown hair ;
I hear the rustle of her garments,
iler light step on the stair ! !
0 flooring heart ! control thy tumult,
Lest eyes profane should see
My cheeks betray the rush of rapture
Her coming brings to me 1
he tarries long ; but lo 1 a whisper
Beyond the open door.
And, gliding through the quiet sunshine,
A shadow on the floor !
Ah f 'tis the whispering pine that calls me.
The vine, whose shadows strays ;
And any patient heart must still await her,
Kor chide her long delays.
But my heart grows sick with weary waiting
As many a time before ;
Her foot is ever at the threshold.
Yet never passes o'er.
"
if
as
it
no
BY BAYARD TAYLOR. Choice Miscellany.
[From "Life in the Clearings." by Mrs. MOODIE.
For sale by GEO. ADAMS.
MICHAEL MACBRIDE.
concluded.
" I came of poor but dacent parints.
There was but two of us, Pat C and
I. My father rinted a good farm, and he
sint Pat to school, and gave him the eddi
cation of a jintleman. Our landlord took
a liking for the bhoy and gave him the
manes to emigrate to Canady. This
vexed my father in ti rely, for he had no
one baring myself to help him on the
farm. Well, by and by, I joined myself
to one whom my father did not approve
a bhoy he had hired to work with him in
the fields an' he wrote to my brother
(for my mother had been dead ever since
I was a wee thing) to ax him in what
manner he had best to punish my disobe.
dience ; and he jist advises him to turn
us off the place. I suffered, wid my hus
land, the extremes of poverty; we had
seven childer, but they all died of the fi
ver and hard times, save Mike and the
two weeny ones. In the midst of our
disthress, it plased the Lord to remove my
father, widout softenin' his heart towards
me. But he left my Mike three hunder
pounds, to be his whin he came to a right
age; and he appointed my brother Pat
guardian to the bhoy.
M My brother returned tc Ireland when
he got the news of my father's death, in
order to get his share of the property, for
my father left him the same as he did my
son. He took away my bhoy wid him to
Canady, in order to make a landid jiptle
man of him. Ooli hone ! I thought my
heart would have broken tl:in,whin he
took away my swate bhoy; but I was to
live to see a darker day yet."
Here a long burst of passionate weep
ing interrupted her story.
u Many long years came an' wint, and
we niver got the scrape of a pen from my
brother to tell us of the bhoy at all at all.
He might jist as well have been dead, for
aught we knew to the conthrary; but we
consowled ourselves with the thought,
that he would never go about to harm
his own flesh and blood.
" At last a letther came, written in
Mike's owu hand ; and a beautiful hand
ii was inai same, me good uod oless
him for the throuble he took in makin' it
so Bate an' asy for us poor folk to rade.
It was full of love and res ist to his poor
parints, an' he longed to see them in
in
of
C
to
It
'Meriky; but he said he had written by
stekh, for he was very unhappy intirely
that his uncle thrated him hardly be-
caze he would not bs a praste, an' want
ed to lave him, to work for himsel'; and
he refused to buy him a farm wid the
money his grandfather left him, which he
was bound bv the will to do, as Mike was
now of age an' his own tnasthcr.
"Whin we got word from the lad, we
gathered our little all together, an' took
passege for Canady, first writin to Mike
whin we shoul 1 start, an' the name of the
vessel ; an' that we should wait at Co
bourg until sich time as he came to fetch
us himsel' to his uncle's place.
"But oh, Ma'am, our throubles had
only begun. My poor husband an my
youngest bhoy died of the cholera comin'
out, an' I saw their prechious bodies cast
into the salt, salt sea. Still the hope of
seeing Mike consowled me for all my
dishtress. Poor Pat an' I were worn out
intirely whin we got to Kinston, an' I left
the child wid a frind, an' came on alone,
I was so eager to see Mike and tell him
my throubles ; an' there he lies, och hone!
'my heart, my poor heart, it will break in
tirely."
"And what caused your son's separa
tion from his uncle ?" I asked.
The woman shook her head. " The
thratement he got from him was too bad
But shure he would not disthress me by
sayin' aught agin my mother's son. Did
he not break his heart, an' turn him dy
ing an' pinniless on the wide world ?
An' could he have done worse had he
stuck a knife into his heart?
"Ah !" she continued with bitterness,
it was the gowld, the dhirty gowld, that
kilt my poor bhoy. His une'e knew that
Mike were dead, it would come to Pat
the ne'est in degree, an' he could keep
all to himsel' for the ne'est ten years."
This statement appeared only too prob
able. Still there was a mystery about
the whole affair that required a solution,
and it was several years before I acciden
tally learned the sequel to this sad his
tory.
In the meanwhile the messenger dis
patched by the kind Mr. S to Peter-
boro' to inform Michael's uncle of the dy
ing state of his nephew, returned without
that worthy, and with this unfeeling mes
sage that Michael Macbride had left him
without any just cause, and should receive
consolation from him in his last mo
ments. Mr. S. did not inform the poor bereaved
widow of his cruel messsage. but finding
she was unable to defray the expenses
attendant on her son's funeral, like a true'
Samaritan, he supplied them out of his
pocket, and followed the remains of
unhappy stranger that Providence had
cast upon his charity to the grave. In
accordance with Michael's last request,
he was buried in the cemetery of the En
glish church.
Six years after these events took place,
Mr. XV called upon me at our place
Douro, and among other things told me
the death of Michael's uncle, Mr.
. Many things were mentioned by
Mr. W who happened to know him,
his disadvantage. "But of all his evil
acts," he said, "the worst thing I knew of
him was his evil conduct to his nephew."
" How was that ?" said I, as the death
bed of Michael Macbride rose distinctly
before me.
" It was a bad business. My house
keeper lived with the old man at the
time, and from her I heard all about it.
seems that he had been left guardian to
this boy, whom he brought out with him
some years ago into this country, together
with a little girl about two years younger,
who was a child of a daughter of his
mother by a former marriage, so that the
children were half-cousins to each other.
Elizabeth was a modest, clever little
creature, and grew up a very pretty girl.
Michael was strikingly handsome, and
had a fine talent for music, and in person
and manners wis far above his condition.
There was some property, to the amount
of several hundred pounds, coming to the
lad when he was twenty-one. This leg
acy had been left him by his grandfather,
and Mr. C was to invest it in land
for the boy's use. This for reasons best
known to himself, he neglected to do, and
brought the lad up to the service of the
altar, and continually urged him to be
come a priest. I his did not at all accord
with Michael's views and wishes, and he
obstinately refused to study for the holy
office, and told his uncle that he meant to
become a farmer as soon as he had ob
tained his majority.
" Living constantly in the same house,
and possessing congeniality of tastes and
pursuits, a strong affection had grown up
between Michael and his cousin, which
circumstance proved the ostensible reason
given by Mr. C for his ill conduct
to the young people, as by the laws of his
church thev were too near of kin to
marry. Finding that their attachment
was too strong to be wrenched asunder by
threat, and that they had actually formed
a design to leave him, and embrace the
Protestant faith, he confined the girl to her
chamber, without allowing her a fire, du
ring a severe winter. Her constitution,
naturally weak, sunk under these trials,
an! she died early in the spring of 1632,
without being allowed the melancholy sat
isfaction of seeing her lover before she
closed her brief life.
" Her death decided Michael's fate.
Rendered despera o by grief,the reproach
ed his bigoted uncle as the author of his
misery, and demanded of him a settlement
of his property, as is was his intention to
quit his roof forever. Mr. C laughed
at his reproaches, and treated his threats
with scorn, and finally cast him friendless
upon the world.
The poor fellow played very well up
on the flute, and possessed an excellent
tenor voice ; and, by means of these ac
complishments, he contrived for a few
weeks to obtain a precarious living.
"Broken-hearted and alone in the world
he soon fell a victim to hereditary disease
of the lungs, and died, I have been told,
at an hotel in Cobourg; and was buried
at the expense of Mr. S , the tavern-
keeper, out of charity."
" The latter part of your statement I
know to be correct ; and the whole of it
forcibly corroborates the account given
rne by the poor lad's mother. I was at
Michael's death-bed ; and if his life was
replete with sorrow and injustice, his last
hours were peaceful and happy."
I could now fully comprehend the
meaning of the sad stress laid upon the
one word, which had struck me so forci
bly at the time when I asked him if he had
forgiven all his enemies, and he replied,
after that lengthened pruse, " Yes ;" I
have forgiven them all even him !"
It did, indeed, require some exertion of
Christian forbearance to forgive such in
juries.
NO LITTLE GIRLS NOW.
Here is a charming little sermon, by a
lady correspondent :
"What has become of all the little girls
now-a-days 1 One sees plenty of minia
ture young ladies, with basque waists and
flounces, dress hats and tiny watches,
promenading the streets or attending ju
venile parties ; but alas ! a liUle girl is a
rarity one who will play baby-house
and live a life-time in a few hours, ma
king day and night succeed each other
with astonishing rapidity, a fifteen min
utes recess affording plenty of time for
weeks of play-house life ; and whom a
a neat plain gingham dress and sun bon
net is the perfection of school dress sun
bonnets that will not ba injured if they
are wet in river or brook, and aprons
strong enough to bring home any quan
tity of nuts from the woo is, in lieu of bas
ke's ; good strong shoes that will come
off with ease on a warm summer's day,
when the cool brook tempts the warm feet
to lave themselves in its water?, instead
of delicate gaiters, which shrink from
such rude treatment.
" Well ! it is to ba hoped the race of
little girls will not become utterly extinct.
There must be some 'wasting their sweet
ness upon the desert air,' for surely they
bloom not in our cities, and but rarely in
our villages.
"At an age when little girls used lo be
dressing dolls, we now see ttiem decked
in all their finery, parading street, and
flirting with young students. Where on
earth are the mothers of thess precious
flirts? Are they willing to nl!o such
folly?
"Then as to dress why, little miss
must now be dressed as richly as mam
ma ; and the wonder is how she will be
able to outvie her present splendor when
she comes out.' But in this go-ahead
age, some new inventions will enable her
to accomplish her desire.
" As there are n- little girls, so there
will be no young ladies ; for when Miss
leaves the school she is engaged, soon
marries, and takes her place in the ranks
of American matrons. How will she fill
her place ? for how or when has she
found time to prepare for life's duties ?
Wonder if it would not be a good plan to
turn over a new leaf, begin with them in
season, and se if it is not possible to have
again darling little creatures, full of fun
and glee, who can run and jump without
fear of tearing flounces, and finally have
a set of healthy young ladies, upon whom
the sun has been allowed to shine, and
active exercise in the open air bestowed
an abundant supply of life and energy.
Unite a healthy body to the highly cul
tivated minds of our American wives and
mothers, and they would be the admira
tion of the world, instead of being pitied
for their fragility." Home Journal.
Life among thb Lowly. The poorer
a man becomes, the more dogs he owns.
Show us an individual who lives on one
meal a day, and we'll show you a per
son who has got a self-interest in four
bull pups and at least one "pinter."
Queer, isn't it ?
PRESCOTT. THE HISTORIAN.
The numerous readers of the charming
historiesof Mr. William H. Presott, mny
be glal to hear a word of the historian)11"-
himself. He annears dailv in our streets j
and often may be seen taking Ing walks
for the preservation of his health. lie is
now at his winter's residence, on Beacon
street, where he spends about nine months
of the year. The other three months he
has generally spent at Nahant and Pep
perell, at both of which places he has
country seats most congenial to the pur
suits of an author.
Mr. Prescott is as systematic in his
daily studies as any Boston merchant,
and as great a miser of the minutes. As
many have learned, he was so unfortunate
as to lose one of his eyes while in Har
vard College. By this loss the other eye
became weakened through over-work, so
that, practicality he has written his immor
tal histories as the blind write, or with !
an apparatus such as they use.
And yet he has scarcely the appearmcc
of any difficulty of sight, and recognizes
his friends in the street with that single
faithful eye. Indeed, the observer might
regard his eyes as fine as one could de
sire. Mr. rrescott, wnen engagea in
writing, writes rapidly, averaging about
seven of the printed pages of his volumes
daily.
His secretary copies his manuscript in
a good plain hand fjr the printer. He is
now dilligently composing a history of
Philip II. His private library is a very
valuable one, particularly in the depart
ment of all that history that can throw
any light upon the subjects of his present
and past investigations. His library con
tains nearly 6000 volumes. It is a pic
ture of a room, that the proprietor had
constructed for his special use, as he did
his study, some distance abo"e it towards
the heavens, where his beautiful compo
sitions are produced.
That Mr. Prescott, with his physical
embarrassments, has accomplished so
much towards forming an American
standard literature, is quite a marvel.
Another wonder is, that though he has
been confined to his books and his study
for forty years as closely as the monk to
his cloister, he has nothing of the scho
lastic manner, but the ease and polish of
a gentleman wholly in society. Boston
Cor. oj Journal of Commerce.
j
i
I
SHENSTONE.
Shenstone, a well-known English poet,
was one day walking through a wooded
retreat with a lady, when a man rushed
out of a thicket, and presenting a pistol
at his breast, demanded his money, and
the lady fainted.
Money," said the robber, " is not
worth struggling for ; you cannot be
poorer than I am."
" Unhappy man," exclaimed Shen
stone, throwing his purse to him, " take
it and instantly disappear."
The man did so threw his pistol into
the water and instantly disappeared.
Shenstone ordered his servant to follow
the robber, and observe where he went.
In two hours the man returned and
informed his master that he followed the
robber to the house where he lived ; that
he went to the door, and peeping through
the keyhole, saw tne man throw the
purse on the ground, and say to his wife:
"Take the dear bought price of my
honesty-;" then taking two of his chil
dren, one on each knee, he said to them,
"I have ruined my soul to keep you
from starving," and immediately burst
into a flood of tears. Shenstone, on
hearing this, lost no time in inquiring
into the man's character, and found that
he was a laborer, oppressed by want and
a numerous family, but had the reputa
tion of being honest and industrious.
Shenstone went to his house the poor
man fell at his feet and implored mercy.
The poet took him home with him and
provided him with employment.
A singular custom prevails in South
Nottinghamshire and North Leicester
shire. Wheh a husband, forjrettin'r his
solemn vow to love, honor and keep his
wife, has had recourse to physical force
and beaten her, the rustics get up what
is called a "riding." A crowd is drawn
through the village, having in it two per
sons dressed so as to resemble the woman
and her master. A dialogue, represent
ing the quarrel, is carried on, and a sup
posed representation of the beating is in
flicted. This performance is always
specially enacted before the offender's
door. Another and perhaps less objec
tionable mode of shaming men out of a
brutal and unmanly practice, is to empty
a sack of chaff at the offender's door, in
imitation, I suppose, that thrashing has
been ' done within." Perhaps this lat
ter custom gave rise to the term " chaf
fing." It is not the false teeth which should
be objected to, but the false teeth behind
them.
[From the Quincy Patriot.]
JOHN Q. ADAMS' MONUMENT.
umiarun unurcn. in thia town, to
tlui Memory of John Quiney Adams, by
A monument has just been placed in
11. TT i -,t . .,.
his son, the Hon. C. F. Adams. It is
composed of highly-pol;shed Italian
:lrbIe. size and form very nearly
resembles the one erected to the Ex-
PresUent John Adams, with the excep
tion of the upp-r part, where the bust
rests, which is inclosed on both sides by
the upper members of the cornice, that
sweeps upward in graceful lines toward
it. The bust, which rests upon the top,
was executed in Italy, by the great
American sculptor, Hiram Powers, and
is very perfect and life-like in its resem
blance of the venerated statesman to
who-e memory it is erected. Immedi
ately under the bust is a Latin sentence
composed of two words, "Alteri Seculo,"
separated by an oak branch, with two
leaves and an acorn. The following is
the inscription :
Alteri Seculo.
A. O.
Xe:ir this place reposes all that could die of JOHN
!', INCY ADAMS, un of Julin and Abi.-nil (Smith)
A-l::!u. sixth President of the United States. Bora
lliiJulv, lrM57. Amidst the stirms of ciril commo
tion he nursed the Vi-ror which nerves a Statesman
u. Patriot, and the Faitli which inspires a Chris-tiu.ii-
For more than half a ceutary, whenever his
canary called for his labors, in either hemisphere
or in any capacity, he nerer snared them in her
c.ui. On the twenty-fourth of December, 1H14, he
:.:i:e-l the Treaty with Great Krit-iin. which restored
IVace within her borders. On the twenty-tliird of
rr:. ruary, wvs, he closed sixteen years of eloquent
d.-r,-hcc of the Lessons of his Youth. Iy dying at
his Post, In her rreat National Council. A son.
vorViy of his Father ; a Citizen, shedding his glory
"!i his Country ; a S:holar, ambitious to advance
Mankind this Christian sought to walk humbly iu
ihi siht of hia God.
JV.-iile him lies his Partner for fifty years, LOUISA
CATHERINE, dauirhter of Joshua and Catherine
;. u:h) Johnson. Born, l-.th February, 1TTS. Mar-r:.-
l. ititu July, 4797. Deceased, lith May, lei2.
A-'-J a. Living through many vicissitudes, and
nn... r hirhr-spoijsibiliti-i as a Daughter, Wife and
li'it'i jr, she proved eual to all. Dying, she left her
f.i'iiily and her sex the blessed remembrance of a
"Woman that feareth the Lord. "Herein is that
i-'.yiti-r true, one soveth and another reapeth. I
riit y.ro to reap that whereon te bestowed no labor.
O.itrr meu labored, and ye are entered into their
LORD JEFFREYS.
There was no one of the friends, of
Lord Jeffrey's latter acquisition, for
whom he had greater admiration or re
gard than Mr. Macaulay ; and he testi
fied the interest which he took in this
great writer's fame, by a proceeding
which, considering his age and position,
is not unworthy of being told. This
judge, of seventy-four summers, revised
the proof-sheets of the two first volumes
ofuhe History of England, with the dil
igence and minute care of a corrector of
the press, toiling for bread ; not merely
suggesting changes in the matter and
the expression, but attending to the very
commas and colons a task which,
though humble, could not be useless,
because it was one at which long prac
tice had made him very skilful. Indeed,
he used to boast that it was one of his
peculiar excellences. On returning a
proof to an editor of the Review, he says:
" I have myself rectified most of the er
rors, and made many valuable verbal
improvements in a small way. But my
great task has been with the punctuation
in which I have, as usual, acquitted
myself to admiration ; and indeed this is
the department of literature in which I
feel that I most excel, and on which I
am most willing now to stake my repu
tation !"
Well Said. Question -What ought
to be done with a irentleman who en
gagej the affections of a young lady,
and then leaves her ?
Answer Bless him, and let him go.
We always think, In such cases, that a
young lady has abundant cause for con
gratulation, and, instead of whining and
crying over " spilt affection," let her put
on her sunny smiles, and endeavor to
cap ivate a more worthy beau. You
may depend upon it, that a man who has
no more stability of mind, or honesty of
purpose, than to act in tnis way to a
young lady, is not worth a tear of regret;
on the contrary, she should be especially
happy that she has so luckily got rid of
a person, who, throughout bis life, iu
whatever he undertook, would unques
tionably exhibit the same ucfixedness of
purpose and the same irresolution of
mind. Love is like everything else ; a
man who is not to be trusted in that, is
very like to be unsafe in other respects.
Xcw York Sunday Times.
Ix the early part of the eighteenth
century, a farmer was condemned to
suffer the extreme penalty of the law for
cow stealing. His wife called to see him
a few days previous to his execution, to
take a last farewell, when she asked
him
" My dear, would you like the chil
dren to see you executed ?"
"No," he replied, "what must they
come for?"
" That's just like you," said the wife,
' you never wanted the children to have
any enjoyment,"
The Supkriob. A brave man thinks
no one his superior who does him no injury-;
for he has it then in his power to
to make himself superior to the other by
forgiving it.
EQUESTRIANISM.
As horseback riding is quite fashion
able among young ladies and gentlemen,
we copy the following in relation to a
very important and hitherto ur decided
point, from the New York Spirit of the
Times, the highest authority on such.
subjects, which proves, we think, pretty
conclusively, the correctness of the posi
tion we have long maintained, that the
right side is net the right side, alter all :
"The reins are to be held in the left
hand, and the right hand is free to ren
der aid, should the horse become frac
tious, or the habit of the rider require
adjusting. If the gcntlenian rides on
the right side, he must use his left hand,
and can do so to very little purpose.
Instflnces have occurred where the lady's
horse has taken fright on the instant,
and the rider was rescued by the gentle
man being on the left side and taking
her from the frightened ani.nal to his
own. If the lady wishes to converse,
and her escort is at her right ha id, she
must turn her head half round to make
herself heard. Again, the escort being
at the left hand, her dress is protected
from the vehicles passing, and if it be
comes disarranged, it is not exposed to
public view."
This is doubtless the true place to ride;
though it has the evil of danger to the
lady's feet by the conduct of the gentle
man's horse. lie should, howeve-, be
able to manage his horse, and keep him
in the right place.
Circumstantial Evidence Deceptive.
Qjite a stir and some ill-feeling was
occasioned in Barre last week, by the loss
of a port inonnaie belonging to Mr. Sib
ley, of the Naquag Hotel. Mr. Sibley
accused a Mr. Hendrick, who boarded in
the house, of the theft, and Mr. Hendrick
and his wife were examined, and the
room where they lodged was searched
At last the iron frame work of a port
inonnaie was found in the ashes of the
stove of Hendrick's room. This was suf.
ficient to place Mr. H. under keepers to
await further procacdings. At night,
however, one of the stage drivers to Wor
cester brought the lost port monnaie to
Mr. Sibley, and Mr. Hendricks was dis-
discharged. The stage driver saw the
money on a shelf in the bar-room in the
morning, and pnt it in his pocket for a
joke, forgot about it, and borught it to
Worcester. When he returned he handed
it over. The "joke" was not at all pleas
ant to Mr. Hendrick.
Wonderful Power of Music. An
advertisement of Messrs. Boosey & Co.,
is headed, '-Music for Winter." We
have heard musical enthusiasts, or hum
bugs as they are sometimes termed, talk
ing about descriptive music, witty rBusic,
theolgical music ; we have heard of pas
sages in the works of certain composers
describing landscapes, rivers, sunsets.
We remember hearing Mr. Wright, in a
farce at the Adclphi Theatre, inform the
leader of an orchestra (hat he wanted a
slow movement played, descriptive of a
man going into a foreign country, and
changing his religion ; in short, we have
all sorts of ridiculous and impossible
things set down as within the powers of
music ; but we confess, we never expect
ed to hear of its beincr brought to such
material perfection as to be made .ser
viceable against the inclemencies of the
season. We do not despair of seeing
music made good to eat, yet ! That
will be the triumph ! London Diogenes.
The New State Board ok Agricul
ture, as at present organized, is the
best Ohio has ever had. It consists of
Gen. James T. Worthington, Chilicothe;
Judge Musgrave, Sulphur Springs,
Crawford county ; W. II. Ladd, Rich
mond, Jefferson county ; Robert W.
Steele, Dayton ; James L. Cox, Zanes
ville; Buckley Stedman, Cleveland;
Alexander Waddle, South Charleston,
Clark county; Joseph Sullivant, Colum
bus ; John K. Greene, Carthage, Ham
lton county ; and Abel Krum, of Ash.
tabula. Messrs. Waddle and Krum are
nevr members. On the meeting of the
new Board, Gen. Worthington was elec
ted President, Dr. Sprague, Correspon
ding Secretary, J. K. Greene, Recording
Secretary, J. Sullivant, Treasurer.
Judge Musgrave, who for the past year
has been President of the Board, to the
pride and satisfaction of all concerned,
declined a re-election, and the honor
was most worthily bestowed on Gen.
Worthington. Of course no one objec
ted to the re-election of Dr. Sprague as
Secretary. The Farmers of Ohio may
rest ea3y while their interests are en
trusted to such hands as our present
State Board of Agriculture.
Every man in it is possessed of high
moral character, and Ohio farmers owa
it to themselves to see that it does not
deteriorate by subsequent elections.
Ohio Farmer.
Solitude is dangerous to reason, with
out being favorable to virtue.
For the Farmer.
HOUSE FURNITURE AND FASHION.
If it is true that the general character
of a room depends on the architectural
forms and lines which compose iu walls,
ceilings, doors, and windows, it is no less
true that the expression of the same room
largely depends on the manner in which
it is furnished. To satisfy one's self on
this point, it is only necessary to look at
the same apartment, or suite of apart
ments, with and without furniture. In
the one case, it has, to be sure, the in
trinsic elements of proportion, symmetry,
and suitable architectural decoration ;
but it wants all that variety, intricacy,
and significance of meaning which the
same room has, when filled with furn
iture in keeping with its uses, and the
scocial life of those who inhabit it. As
a smile or a glance, in familiar conver
sa;ion, often reveals to us more of the
real character of a professional man than
a long study of him at the pulpit or the
bar, so a table or a chair will sometimes
give us the key to the intimate tastes of
those who miht be inscrutable in the
hieroglyphics of white walls and plain
ceilings. How often does the interior of
the same house convey to us a totally
different impression, when inhabited and
furnished by different families. In the
one case, all is as cold hard,
and formal, as solid mahogany and marble-top
centre-tables, alias, bare conven
tionalities and frigid scocial feeling, can
make it ; in the other, all is as easy and
agreeable as low couches, soft light
chintzes and cushions alias, cordiality,
and genuine, frank hospitality can ren
der it.
More than this, if it so happens that
one is forced to inhabit a house meagre
and poor in its interior, its baldness and
poverty may be, in a great degree, con
cealed or overcome, by furnishing the
rooms in a tasteful and becoming man
ner. It is. therefore, by no means irrele
vant that we should devote some little
space to this subjeet of furniture of coun
try houses. Our fair readers will doubt
less pardon us for the seeming intrusion
on their province, when we say that our
object is mainly to furnish them with
reasons for the natural good taste which
they usually show in this department,
and point out the shoals on which those
few who fail from want of native percep
tion are wrecked, so that they may, if
possible, be avoided.
And here we may be allowed to prose
a little, at the outset, by an illusion to
the blunders committed by many per
sons in furnishing a house. We mean
the blunder of confounding fashion with
taste ; of supposing that whatever the
cabinet-makers and upholsterers turn
out as the latest fashion, must necessari
ly be the.only things worth having ; and
of a total ignorance of the fact, that the
most fashionable furniture may be in
the worst taste, while furniture in the
most correct taste is not always .
such as is easily obtained in the cabinet
ware-houses.
Tasteful furniture is, simple, furniture
remarkable for agreeable and harmoni
ous lines and fvrms, well adapted to the
purpose in view. Furniture in correct
taste is characterized by its being design
ed in accordance with certain recognized
styles, and intended to accord with apart
ments in the same style. Furniture in
"good keeping" adds to correctness in
point of taste, a propriety of color, char
acter, form and material, which befits
the use for which it and the apartment
in which it was placed are intended.
Thus, the furniture of the hall, however
correct, would not be in good keeping
with the dining room, nor the furniture
of the dining room in keeping with the
library.
The great advantage which furniture
jn correct taste has over merely fashion
able furniture is, that the latter is no soon
er out of fashion which may happpen
in a twelvemonth than lo ! its whole
charm and power of pleasing is lost to its
possessor. It must, therefore, be sent
to auction, or consigned to the upper sto
ry, and more, of the latest mode, put in
its place while furniture in correct taste,
depending upon its excellence and the
adaptation of its forms and lines to the
apartment of whose architecture it is an
echo, never loses its power of pleasing,
but only grows dearer to us by age and
association.
Again, the power which furniture o(
correct taste has, of affording us pleas
ure, does not depend on rich materials
or elaborate execution though it may,
in many cases, be heightened by them.
It arises rather from the mind which it
evinces the evidence it conveys at n
glance that it is part of the same plan,
idea, or conception which is shown in
every other part of the house, or enters
into the very room where it is placed.
We are thut mad. to feel that the furni
ture belongs in a certain house or room,
or for one in the same architectural style
and character, and for no other. It ia
for this reason because beauty and sig
nificance both unite to make furniture ia
correct taste permanently satisfactory
thai h often happens thai some modest
cottage, w ith its furniture of oak or wal
nut, a'l chase, simple, and expressirt.
but in strictly correct taste and good keep
ing, awakens in our minds a far higher
pleasure than the most costly saloons,
bright with gilding,, and rich with satin
and velvet, where we only discover mag
nificence and expense, without taste or
propriety. We feel that there ia some
living spark of genius in the former, how
ever simple and unpretending its mani
festation, but in the latter only unlimi
ted credit as the banker's.
ine most unfortunate circumstance
for the progress of good taste in furnish
ing our country houses, is that, hitherto,
the fashions of town houses have been
implicitly followed every where in the
country. To be able to show a parlor
in a country house as nearly as possible
a fac-simile of one in the Fifth Avenue,
Beacon, or Chestnut street, according as
New York, Boston, Philadelphia is the
meridian of calculation, has, for the most
part, been the highest ambition of most
persons famishing a first-class room ia
the country. And the result is, that the
room so furbished, instead of inspiring;
us with the feeling of appropriateness,
comfort, and good taste, rather wearies
us with the recollection of the extra ex
pense, inappropriateness, and over-elegance
of so many things made for dis
play, ratherthan convenience and beauty.
. The first stept towards escaping . from
this, is the recognition of the fact that
a country house (even when the same
wealth and style are supposed) should
always be furnished with more chaste
nessand simplicity than a town house;
because, it is in the country, if anywhere
that we should find essential ease and
convenience always preferred to that lore
of effect and desire to dazzle, which is be
gotten, for the most part, by rivalry of
mere wealth in town life. Aa a country
gentleman rejoices in the fact that he is
in happy ignorance of the rotineof daily
dress coats and white gloves, so he pre
fers a comfortable couch or easy chair,
covered with substantial stuffs, and not
so fine or so frail as to forbid his enjoying1
it remorselessly at all times, to gilt fau
teuils, covered with satin, winch are ob
jects of no more real utility in the coun
try than a chasseur.
The great desideratum in the furni
ture of country houses, is, that it should
be essentially country-like which is
attained only when it unites taste, com
fort, and durabil:ty in the greatest de
gree. It should be in correct taste, so
as to harmonize with the house in which
it is placed ; it should be convenient and
comfortable in the highest degree ; and
it should be substantially made, so as to
unite durability with the capacity of be
ing used without the fear of being spoiled
by fulfilling its true purpose. Downing' s
Country Houses.
The Preacher and the Joe kit. A
clergymen, who was in the habitof preach
ing in different parts of the country, was
not long since in an inn, where he ob
served a horse jockey trying to take in a
simple gentleman, by imposing upon him,
a broken-winded horse for a sound one.
The parson- knew the bad character of
the jockey, and taking the gentleman as-
side, told him to be cautious of the per
son he was dealing with. The gentle
man finally declined to purchase, and
the jockey, quite nettled, observed :
"Parson, I had much rather hear yoa
preach than to see you privately interfere
in bargains between man and man ia
this way."
'Well," replied the parson, "If you
were where you ought to have been last
Sunday, you might have heard me
preach."
"Where was that?" inquired the
jockey.
"In the State Prison !" retorted the
clergyman.
Served him Right, however. There
was gre.it excitement in Wall street to
day.in consequence of the reported expul
sion of a member of the board of brokers.
this forenoon. We withhold the gentle
man's name, and are not prepared to say
what effect his crime may have upon the
price of shares. It is reported that he
proposed to the board the following con
undrum: "Why are amature fishermen
visiting Long Island shore like the allied
armies? Answer. Because they want
Sea-bas-to-pull." (Sebastopol.) The
offender put the probity and other well
known virtues of the board to scre
test. If he was expelled, it served hiaa
rirrht. A". Y. Commercial Advertiser.
Knowledge. A man wants just so
much knowledge as he has the wirfcw
to use. Eat no more than you can digest.
