^ // r y ^ ^ 1
THE NATIONAL ERA. '
G BAILEY, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR; JOHN G. WHITTIER, CORRESPONDING EDITOR.
- ? ? 1 Bfw - ?
V()I XVZNO! 45. WASHINGTON, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1850. WHOLE NO. 201.
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i the national bra.
WASHINGTON, NOVEMBER 4, 18.10.
I '%. _ ' _ -* r"
For the National Km
frorrsioHT s?ci'??i) arroaoiNo to taw.l
HfCKOltY IIALL: OR THE OUTCAST.
a romance of the bli'e rum jr.
in fol'k parts.
i.v in;, i.mwa t> k. n soi'-ruwokih.
I " I .'?n I .ear scorpion's stings, tread field# of fire.
In frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie,
| lie tossed aloft through tracks of endless void,
lint cannot lire in shame."?Joanna Baillie.
THI-r OLD HALL.
It this the hall I The nettle biilldeth bowers,
Where loathsome Leol and beetle blaek are aecn '
Are these tee chambers'! Fed by darkest showers,
The shiny worm halh o'er tlieia crawling been!
Is this the homsl The owlet's dreary cry,
Unto that as king makes a dread reply !
The following story is as near literal truth as
it is possible for a narrative that has passed
tlurough two channels to be. I will give it as
vearlv up practicable in the lauguage i^ which it
was related to me.
Early in the autumn of 18? we were journey
S.it k beau4/*?'
mountain and vallhy scenery in the interior of
It was near the close of a golden October day
that we reached the wildly picturesque little village
of 1 Jillsborough. situated upon a very high
poiut of land, and in the midst of abrupt, rocky,
tree-capped peaks, with green dents of very fertile
soil between. It was a town of rocks?founded
upon rocks?hemmed in by rocks?the dwelling-houses,
out-houses, fences, pig-pens, ehickeneoops,
all built of rocks of every conceivable
variegated hue It was, indeed, a beautiful and
brilliant piece of mosaic work, up and down a
ground of shade*! green. It was as radiant and
miny colored as the forest in autumn, and glowed,
flashed, and sparkled in the golden sun like an
open casket of jewels.
We reached the quaint old inn in time for a
lite dinner. There we expected to meet the carriage
of a friend who resided at a farm about five
miles distant across the mouutaiD, and at whose
house we were going to spend a few weeks. We
found our friend, Mrs. Fairfield, waiting for
in and as soon as dinner was over we set out for
Cedar Cliffs. Our road lay west through a sav urelv
beautiful country, breaking itself up to
wards a lofty range of bine mountains encircling
Hie western horizon, and behind which glowed
and burned the crimson sunset sky.
We approached the celebrated pass of the
Walk, from the highest point of whieh an
etteusive. view of the valley was afforded. As
we began to ascend the mountain, I fell into ono
of those indolent, pleasant, but rather selfish reveries,
which the gathering shadows of twilight,
the darkening scene, and the heavy, sleepy motion
of the carriage, seemed to invite From this reverie
1 was at length aroused by my indulgent
eompauion, who, laying her hand upou my arm,
and pointing across me through the window on
the right, said?
I wish you to observe that house on the hrow
of the cliff."
We had just slowly reached the summit of the
mountain, and the carriage had stopped to breathe
the horses. I looked out at the window on the
tight side. It was yet early enough in the evening,
and there was yet light enough left to sec,
pitching precipitately down below us, a flight of
cliffs, the bases of which were lost in abysses of
twilight gloom and foliage, and the circular range
of which swept round in a ring, shutting in a
small, but deep ami cup-shaped, valley. Down
in the deeps of this darkening vale loomed luridly
a largo old farm-house of red sandstone. The
prevalent tone of the picture wus gloom. Down
into a reverie about the deep, dark vale, and
darker house, swooped ray fancy again. The
carriage was in slow motion. I drew in my
" Did you notice the house?"
' ' ^ es ; and through that deep sea of dark and
Homing sua'tows, itself the densest shadow, it
looms like some dark phantom, some ghost of a
dead home "
" Say a mwtltrtd home."
"I wish yon wouldn't break a well-rounded
sentence with any sort of improvement?ghost of
a dead home about to melt away again in the surrounding
" Well said?better even than you think. Yet
that old, half ruined farm-house is the centre of
one of the largest, most beautiful, fertile, highlycultivated,
and productive estates in all Virginia.
If you saw it uuder the noonday summer sun,
you would see a variegated ground-view of vast
fields of wheat ami rye, yellow and ripening for
the harvest; corn, green, waving in the sun;
red blossomed clover, past tires of blue grass
rolling down the sides of the hills behind us, and
stretching out on all sides of the old house, and
disappearing under the how of the circularboiinding
of mountains. You hear now the tnel!
iwed tinkle of a waterfall which springing from
the cliffs we Icive jiist.lcft, llowa down the side of
the rocks, and reaching the bottom of the cuplike
vule. spreads itself into mnny little, clear rills
well watering its fertile fields, red postnrage,
heavy w o<*ls. e Thi * estate, with its fine water,
i'? wealth of iron ore and coal in the encircling
mountains, its abundance of game in the forest
and li-ih in the river, and its immense water pow'
r is one of the moet valuable in tbe Southern
' ilis Yet in the midst of that wealthy and
II *hly cultivated plantation stands the homestead
itself a desolation!"
Then the shadowy view of it is after all
'hi best. I wonder, by the way, why It is that
III tnv ntiionr our wi?alib;..<rf ari?1->
? ? t irginm planter*
I li ><?(> to reside in houses no shabby that a New
I ''""linil journeyman mechanic or iUy laborer
I *Ml4 l>c ashamed to lire in them 7 Now
I th it ynit hare directed attention to this dark
I I'liantom 0f t home looming luridly from the
I deep shadows, I warrant that we shall hear
I )' "> 11v llM this uncouth jiimhle of rough hewn
I Hi MiMw and miscellaneons rubbish in no
' *? a pUep than Livingston Lawn, I'orofret l'arki
I r "oiup other style of sonorous sound."
H No ?it is only Hickory Hall "
"h ye*' one of the oldest mansion hotter* in
I lr'" States?the residence, since I0M>, of the eldest
"nil of the Livingstons, the I >angerfields, or
"Iher great family, with nothing left hut
I '"ir great name and great need."
I (Jn the contrary, Hickory Hall ia only the
I ?f the Wsllravens, and has been eo for only
< hundred years."
1 Ktactly? precisely?I aaid that Hickory
11*11, for upwards ft hundred years, the seat of the 1
Wallravene, nn old family, with nothing left hut. 1
their old mine And now I understand why the 1
homestead is in ruins while the farm is in the
very, highest state of cultivation !''
" Wny. I p**y- you ?" i
" I will undertake to sny that nil these well- i
cultivated fields Ailing in richness from hence to
the horizon, belong to an ' industrious, intelligent,
and enterprising' Yankee purchaser and settler
who come here some five or six years ago peddling
monae-trape, and has now become possessed of all
this hind, and whose substantial, f<)nare-hailt, red
: brick house stares one out of countenance somewhere
over yonder by the side of the main road
lcadiug to market."
"Wrong again. Hugh Wallraven is one of
the wealthiest, if not the very wealthiest man in
Virginia. 1 lis fortune is estimated, with what
truth i know not, at one million."
u i ata ?a? ibipk there was such a r
private fortune in the county."
** It is said to be true, uvt>%
tt One million! why in the world, then, does
he not put np a decent house?a iUc-tu house!
Good heaven! why does he not erect upon this
favored spot a palace of white marble, with terraces,
conservatories pleasure gardens, fountains,
groves? Fill his palace with tfce most beautiful
and perfect works of medhantan, in the way of
furniture, to be procured in Europe and Acta?
with the rarest worka of art of ancient or modern
times?his conservatories with the richest exotics
of all climes?his gardens with the finest vegetables?his
orchards with the utmost perfection
of fruit! If I were he, with one million of dollars,
1 would introduce every new improvement in
farming, grazing, stock breeding, &c. I would
iinnort the best specimens of cattle, horses, poul
try. I would have Welsh ponies. Sootoh draft
homes. English hunters, and Arabian coursers.
Oh ! I would make myself and so many other
people so happy 1 One million f Oh! stop?don't
cpeak to me yet?just let me revel in the idea of
one million to lavish on this magnificent spot
" Why you unsophisticated little blockhead I"
' Hut why, then, does not this Mr. Wallraven?
or rather. Judge Wallraven, or General Wallraren?for
I never heard of a Virginia planter, of
any importance, reaching a certain period of life,
. vjit^qpt wime title of distinction?why d<\e*^iot
Governor Wallraven do soni'thim; with his one
" lie has done somdhing?his farm is the best
"Yes! but it should be the best stockerf?the
best in every particular?the model farm "
" Mr. Wallraven is a very aged man."
" Ah! he m Mr., then.
"Of course People do not confer honors of
any sort upon men like him !"
11 Mm like him? lie is a bad man, then? perhaps
a criminal whose immense wealth and powerful
family connections have enabled him to cheat
the gallows or the State prison of its due!''
" Mr. Wallraven has never been charged with,
or even suspected of, a crime"?
" In his own proper person. 'The sins of the
father shall he visited upon the children.' His father.
" Possessed a name that was a synonyme for
high honor and sterling integrity?his son, with
his name, has inherited his reputation and character
of strict truth and honesty."
"Ah! that is it, then! He docs not cheat at
cards, and therefore he has not won any of the
prir.es in the game of life. Hut to return to my
first question. Why does not this Mr. Wallraven,
of the sterling integrity, and the pounds sterling,
do rom>thin% j?"
" He is the best agriculturist in the State?it
is his ruling passion?his occupation."
" Aud lives in a wretched, old, ruinous house?
Why doesn't he improve his place?"
"Pertinacious! He is an aged man of sixty
"Yes?yes?yes?yes! I see ! And he has no
children?that circumstance [mrslyr.es his energies
even more than old age!"
"How you jump to conclusions ! I le has a son
"Hum?hum?ah ! well, but, sixty years old !
Hie son and daughter must themselves he mar
ried, and settled off, and have children?an ! so, at
last, he is a solitary old man, with no motive for
improving and embellishing his homestead?the
old house, if it will keep out the rain, is quite
good cuough, lie thinks, for the short life of the
solitary old grandfather."
" Uttterly wrong! His children, though past
their early youth, are both still single."
1 paused for a moment, and then a luminous
idea lighted up the whole subject, au-1 1 exclaimed,
"Now 1 have it! Now I certainly have It!
Me is one of those unnatural monsters, a miskr!
Of course! why, surely ! Why di<l I not see it
at once? How it explains everything that was
difficult to understand now ! Mow clear that answer
to the enigma makes all obscurity I Mow
consistent and harmonious all seeming contradictions
! Certainly! Me is a detestable mistrf
That does not prevent him being a man of strict
honesty, sterling integrity?yet, most certainly,
he is a miser ; and 'people do not confer titles of
distinction upon men like him!' Yes! he is a miser!
That is the manner in which he has
amassed his immense property! That is also the
reason why his house is suffered to fall to ruins
while bis farm is well cultivated?the farm will
make returns, but the house will not. Me has
also half starved, half clothed, aud half educated
his children. They have grown up coarse, uncouth,
ignorant, unfit for good society. They are
consequently not well received, and even if they
were disposed to marry, he would not portion his
daughter, or establish his son in business. That
is the answer to the whole enigma! Now say that
1 have no quickness of apprehension !"
" Wonderful 1"
" Ah ! 1 have my inspirations sometimes!"
" You are making fun of me!"
"Hem! listen! Mis son. Constant Wallraven,
graduated at a Northern University, and made
the grand tour of the Kostern Continent, accompanied
by a clergyman salaried to attend him.
You never saw a handsomer or more magnificentlooking
man, or one of more perfect dress and address?'the
courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye,
tongue, sword.' life daughter, Constantia Wallraven,
is one of the most beautiful and elegant
women, with one of the best cultivated minds 1
" You surprise and perplex me more and more?
handsome, accomplished, wealthy, in the prime of
life, and have never bern married ! but perhaps
it is they who are cold 7"
" Not so. They have anient temperaments and
"Then they are, take them all in all, uot easily
mntched, and, of course, they are fastidious!1'
" I think not; I am surf not! for, listen again,
some years ago Constant tell in love with the
beantiful daughter of a poor day laborer?a poor,
miserable fellow who hired in harvest, or in very
bony time*, to work in t he field with the negroes
" Ah ! now it come* !"
"Constant wished to marry her.''
M Well V>
" He offered himself to the girl."
?< We]J ??
" And the poor,abjectly poor,father threatened
to shoot the son of the millionaire if he caught
bim near his hut again."
" The poor father could not believe in his
daughter's good fortune. He suspected the young
man of evil designs?"
"Possibly. If he did him that wroDg, he was
<|nickly undeceived?for the very next day Hugh
Wallraven, the father, called at the hut of the
poor day laborer, and asked the hand of his
daughter, Kllen Pale, for his son and heir; and
the poor man, with a blush of indignation, rrfiiteil
" You astonish me I"
"Hugh Wallraven then offered to settle a
hundred thousand dollars on the maiden, if her
father would permit the match; and the pauper
father refused I"
" Yon astound me! Yon positively ifef What
coiihl have been the poor man's motive?enmity 7"
" No! the poor creature wept bitterly while
refusing his daughter to the son of bis Ixwt friend
and patron?and such was Hugh Wullruven to
I'erhaps this Constant Wallraven was a lovechild,
and the poor but honest ami sternly correct
father of a family npon that aocount despised
iwi'? rrj<-cif>n me kiiiuncer'
"Did I not a?y that Hugh Wallrnven had
never been charged or even suspected of crime or
vice? No! Couatant was the aoo of hie marriage,
and la the legal heir of hie property: and
here it ia well to inform von that the father for
hi* whole life, and the children from an early
age, have been member* in good standing?for
person* in thnr con<MA*n?of the Protestant
Episcopal ohoroh. If evnr a family lived up to
a Christian standard, it Is the Wall ravens I"
? And yet, notvithsUnding their wealth, Intel
ligence, piety, the poorest day laborer, who it*
hound to them besides by a debt of gratitude and
lore, will not ally with one of his family
" Keen so."
?i What can be the reason of this proscription ?
some horrible hereditary afUietiou. \es' that
must be it!?insanity perhaps
" Worse far than that!"
" Infinitely worse than that!"
" Some loathsome disease such as we read of in
the East?leprosy perhaps "
" Worse eren than that, or any disease, or any
sin! is this one incurable, fatal family calamity !"
"Corns, there is a story connected with this
doomed family?this dark phantom of a dead
" Of a murdered home, as 1 said before. Yes,
there is a dark, dreadful story?a domestic tr.ig,?djr
? Will yes ! !! it-toroe?"
?"" eyjOer vhO bMJflj */" ? > ' ^
the* w* rhnvl't y i>?1
just version of It, and as one very, very near and
dear to me is intimately connected with the whole
affair, in justice to hitn yon shall have truth. We
are near Cedar Cliffs now. In a few minutes
we shall reach the house " It was dusk.
There is fetne^bing mysteriously pleasing to
me la approaching ia the dusk of the evening
a strange country house, in which I expect
to stay awhile. As the carriage stopped before
the gloomy house nbiut to become our temporary
home, we looked out with vague interest
and curiosity into the blackness of the night; hut
we could discover nothing but indistinct and
shadowy shapes, suggestive of a massive dwellinghouse,
with out-buildings, and trees, and hills,
and a back ground of lofty mountains, looming
dark, darker, and darkest, into the murky sky.
There was such an absorbing obscurity swallowing
up everything There was such a shadowy
interest?sneh a stimulus to curiosity?such a
field for imagination, in all so vague nnd undefined.
It is the charm of the unknown?the glamour
of terra vicostnila, that attracts us. It seems
like dream land?like childhood come back. And
then there is the cheerful anticipation of exploring
the new scenes, by day-light to-morrow, after
breakfast of which we think now and of which
we shall dream to-night. We are just agreeably
chilly, hungry, and tif&l enough to anticipate
thorough enjoyment from the glowing fire,
the hot supper, and the soft bed that shortly
v?o ctffious etitfdgh voaaond^t it? dtw*
tail what each will be like
At the end of a long journey, commend me to
an arrival at a country house at dark, where every
sort of comfort will be enhanced by the most affectionate
welcome. Gently pleasing fancies and
feelings, like these, half forgotten childish emotions
of wonder and curiosity about small things,
possessed my mind, chasing from it completely
nil dark and weird imaginings nwakenod by the
Phantom House in the Vale of Solitude.
Almost immediately after the carriage stopped,
we saw a light glancing behind the closed Venetian
blinds of the house, and immediately the front
door opened, and a lantern emerged Hnd came to
meet us, followed by a long dark shadow that flitted,
fantastically, hither and thither, behind it. It
was Gulliver, the old gardener, who opened the
gate and assisted us to flight. Mary (Mrs. Fairfield)
gave us in charge of a colored chambermaid,
who conducted us to a pleasant bed-room,
fragrant with the smell of dried herbs, and agreeably
warmed by a bright and cheerful fire. Soon
as we had bathed and changed our clothes, Mary
came for us herself and conducted us down to
supper in one of those comfortable and agreeable
rooms that young and tasteful housekeepers are
so fond of perfecting. A coal fire glowed redly
through the polished steel bars of a large grate,
the bright light of a solar lamp, standing upon the
tea-table. Hashed down upon an elegant tea-service
of chased silver and w hite china arrayed upon a
snowy damask cloth It was an enviable room
indeed ! Hy the side of the fire, in a spring bottomed
arm chair, eat a gentleman whose appear- i
Mice instantly interested me. Me was ot medium
height, of alight, hut elegant figure, ami hie fair,
wan eomptexion. spirited countenance, ami gohlcu
"DM a skaarly '-entrust l
to the black hue of his mourning droes This gentleman
arose with a languid grace, and came to
receive us; and when Mary named me to " Mr
Fairfield," her husband, be welcomed me with
easy kindness We then took our place at the
Uble. It was impossible, however, not to observe
the expression of profound, incurable sorrow upon
the countenance of this young man. It was impossible
not to wonder how Mary herself could
preserve any remnant of cheerfulness by the aide
of this heart-crushing despair. It seemed too deep,
too great to leave him a thought of struggling
ngniust it, or concealing it. Yet, habitual politeness,
feelings of hospitality, or benevolence, made
him very kindly attentive to me. and 1 never saw
anything so sad, so moving to tears, as his smil?.
Indeed I was already beginning to be painfully,
strongly, interested in this young gentleman?
more strongly than I like to be in man, woman,
or child, over whose destiny I can exert no control
for their happiness And then I turned from
his wan, spiritual countenance, to that of Mary,
at the head of the table, and I thought that her
happy, youthful face, so full of health, intelligence,
nnd cheerful hov hrmmt', must exercise a
wholesome, if an unseen, intluence upon her suffering
An incident that occurred that evening further
excited my wonder and interest. We had left
the supper table, which was cleared away, and
gathered around the fire, which had been replenished,
anil flowed brightly, when a knock at the
front door was heard, and soon after the parlor
door was opened, and an old man stood within it
lie was very tall, very broad-shouldered; but
stooping, cither with sorrow or infirmity lie
was clothed in deep mourning?his left hand
leaned heavily on a stout, gold-headed cane, while
with his right hand he tremblingly lifted from his
venerable head his hat, which he held in his hand,
revealing by the action a brow, ploughed deep by
sorrow or remorse, and hair white as the driven
snow. There was an air of deep humiliation, of
piteous deprecation, iu his whole manner and appearance,
most painful to witness in one so aged,
and, in every other respect, so venerable. Neither
Mary nor Mr. Fairfield arose to receive this visitor?nor,
by look or gesture, shew any sort of
respect for him?only Mary looked sadly down at
her hands, and Mr. Fairfield said, kindly, but
" How do you do, Mr. Wallraven?"
" Mr. Wallravmthought I, giving a covert, but
peircing glance, at the aged and stooping figure
standing, hat in hand, so deprccatingly at the
" Ferdinand, she is dying at lust?come to her,
she is dying I" he said.
" Hying I" echoed Mary.
" Thank Ooil," fervently exclaimed Fairfield,
with the irst look of hope 1 bail yet seen on his
"Yes, dying. Will you coine?" repeated the
old man, as he trembled over his staff. " H'd/you
"Assuredly. Mary, love, order the carriage.
Dymg at last. Thank <?od I"
Mary had hastily left the room, and soon returned
with his cloak and bat.
Fairfield quickly donned them, and, aooompanied
by the old titan, left the house.
After they had gone, Mary Fairfield walked
about in a state of half-suppressed excitement such
as I had never seen her betray. Hhe seemed
to havs forgotten me altogether, for which I
conld net blame her. l'resently, suddenly stop
ping, she asked, " I >ear, you are tire?l ?"
Feeling myself rosily fatigued and somewhat
</' iroji, I answered, " Vet."'
" I will attend you to your room," she mid, and,
taking up a candle that she herself had left burning
on the side-table when she came in with Mr.
Fairfield's cloak, she preceded me np stairs, and
into my room, where we found the fire still burning,
and a great big jet black negro girl waiting.
" You may go, HUnch," said Mrs. Fairfield to
the woman, who immediately left the room , and
then, " I oan unhook your dress, dear," she kindly
aid to me.
I wished to try her, to see whether she was
really concerned at a circumstance for which she
had just thanked tied so ferrently I turned suddenly,
and, s<jueexing her hand heartily, said?
" Mary, I hare fallen half in lore with your
husband !?do yon care V'
"Ob! darling, don't jest, lie is ill?his constitution
has reccired a serere shock?he is heartbroken."
Ami now I saw by her countenance that a
great deal of her cheerfulness and bon hommv in bis
presence was nothing more than self-control A
riolent knocking at the front door summoned her
in haste from the room It wm about fifteen
minutes before she returned Nbe was bonneted
nnd cloaked for a journey, and she held in ber
hand a large old letter.
"They here soul the carriage hark for me,
dear," she said. 111 shall prolstbly bo al-sent nil c
night, but you ore at home, you know Planch \
will attend to all your orders?and. dwir. here in j
a letter It in one that Ferdinand wrote t<> me on <1
the ere of our engagement?he oalled it hi* coufee- s
sion.n. It in only hU explanation. of.certain t
dreadful circumstances that troubled me before r
our marriage, and that trouble you now I hare <!
Ferdinand's consent to lease it with you Head j
it It will tell you all you wished to know It t
will engage you during my absence, and. when I |
return, you will know?iht tnd!^ ?
She ki-sed me and was gone. I
I hod been very tired and sleepy; hut there '
was no sleep for me then until I had read the man- '
ucript. 1 trimmed my tire?drew a candle-stand '
to my side?and, with my feet upon the fender, 1
opened the manuscript that was to let me into !
the secrets of the phantom-house in the Vale of !
/ W s,* en*TW'Hl,| *
_ J % 1 . I . V
4 t ?' A * * .V i' 1'1
l\s M SMaksI 1 i
A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTIRKS IN TIIK (W \TKV.
BY MRS H. I?. STOW*.
" If we could only live in the cooc't) " mid my
wife, " how much easier it would he to H?e."
" And how imiofe cheaper," said I!
" To have a little place of our own. ami raise
our own things!" said my wife: "dear me! I am
heart-sick when I think of the old place at home,
and father's great garden. What peaches and
melons we used to have?what green peas and
corn ! Now one has to buy every cent's worth of
these things?and how they taste! Such wilted, ,
miserable corn ! Such peas! Then, if we lived
in the country, we should have our own cow, nnd
milk and cream in abundance?our own hens and I
chickens. We could have custard and ice cream
every day!" (
"To say nothing of the trees anc flowers, and !
all that," said I.
The result of this little domestic duette was,
tb*t my wife and 1 began to J"5do "AceViwwity-wf
, to look up some pretty interesting cottage,
where our visions of rural bliss might berealiyd
Country wsidehceR, near tne city, we loumv to
bear rather a high price ; so that it was no easy
matter to find a situation suitable to the length of
oar purse; till, at last, a judicious friend suggested
a happy expedient?
" Borrow a few hundred," lie said "and give
your note?you can save enough, very soon, to
make the difference. When you raise everything
you eat, you know it will make your salary go a
wonderful deal further."
"Certainly it will," said I. " And what can be
more beautiful than to buy places by the simple
process of giving one's note?'tis so neat! and
handy, and convenient!"
" Why," pursued my friend, " there is Mr B.,
my next door neighbor?'tis enough to make one
sick of life in the oity to spend a week out on his
farm. Suoh princely living as one gets; and he
assure sme that it costs him very little?scarce
anything, perceptible, in fact!"
" Indeed," said I, " few people can say that."
" Why," said my friend, " he has a couple of
neneli trops for everv month, from .lone till frost.
I * 7 7
Hint furnish as many peaches as he and liiu wife
and ton children can disposo of. And then he
has grapes, apricots, Ata; and last year hie wife
sold fifty dollars worth from her strawberry patrh,
and had an abundance for the table, besides. Out
of the ruilk of only one cow they had butter
enough to sell throe or four pounds a week, besides
abundance of milk and cream 1 and madam
brstbn butter for her j'Ocke* money ! This is
the way country people manage."
"Glorious!" thought I. And my wife and I
could scarce sleep, all night, for the brilliancy of
To be sure our delight was somewhat damped
the next day by the eoldness with which my good
old uncle, Jeremiah Standfast, who happened
along at precisely this crisis, listened to our
" You'll find it pltasant, children, in the summertime,"
said the hard-fisted old man, twirling his
blue checked pocket-handkerchief; " but I'm sorry
you've gone in debt for the land."
" Oh I but we shall soon save that?it's so much
cheaper living in the county I" said both of ua together.
" Well, as to that, I don't think it is to city-bred
Here I broke in with a tlood of acoounts of
Mr. ll.'s peach trees, and Mrs. B.'s strawberries,
butter, apricots, &c., Kin.; to which the old gentleman
listened with such a long, leathery, unmoved
quietude ot visage as quite provoked me, and gave
me the worst possible opinion of his judgment
I was disappointed too ; for, as he was reckoned
one of the best practical farmers in tbo county, I
hftd counted on an enthusiastic sympathy with all
my agricultural designs.
"I tell you what, children," he Baid, " a body
can lire in the country, as you say, amnzin'cheap;
hut, then, a body must know how"?and my unclo
spread his pocket-handkerchief thoughtfully out
upon his knees, and shook his head gravely.
I thought him a terribly slow, stupid old body,
and wondered how I had always entertained so
high an opinion of his sense.
"lie is evidently getting old I" said I to my
wife; " his judgment is not what it used to be."
At all events, our place was bought, and we
moved out, well pleased, the first morning in
April, not at all remembering the ill savor of that
day for matters of wisdom. Our place was a
pretty oottage, about two miles from the city, with
grounds that had been tastefully laid out. There
was no lack of winding paths, arbors, flowerborders,
und rose-bushes, with which my wife was
especially pleased. There was a little green lot,
strolling off down to a brook, with a thick grove
of trees at the end, where our cow was to be
The first week or two went on happily enough
in getting our little new pet of a house into trimness
and good order; for, as it hail been long for
sale, of course there was any amount of little repairs
that had been left to atnuse the leisure
hours of the purchaser. Here a door-step, had
given way, ami needed replacing; there, a shutter
hung loose, and wanted a hinge, abundance of
glass needed setting , and, as to painting and papering,
there was no end to that; then my wife
wanted a door cut here, to make our bed room
more convenient, and a china closet knocked up "
there where no ehlna nlnut before had been.
We even ventured on throwing out a he/ window r
from our sitting-room, because we bad luckily r
lighted on a workmen who woe so cheep that it r
wm an actual saving of money to employ him. "
And to he sure our darling little cottage did lift '
up its head wonderfully for all this garnishing ^
and furbishing. I got np early every morning, n
and nailed up I ho rose-bushes, and my wife got
up and watered geraniums, and both flattered j"
ourselves ami each other on our early hours and H
thrifty habits. Hut soon, like Adam and Kve in r
Paradise, we found our little domain to ask more fl
hands than ours, to got it into shape Ho, says I ^
to my wife, " I will bring out a gardener when I n
come neit time, and he shall lay it out, aud get a
it into order, and after that, I can easily keep n
it by the work of ray leisure hours " 1
Our gardener was a very sublime eort of a '
man?an Kngliahman, and, of courts, used to r
laying out noblemen# places, snd we became as g
graaahoppera in our own eye# when be talked of v
!?rd this and that's estate, and began to question '
us shout our carriage-drive and conservatory, 1
and wa could with diflioulty bring the gentleman ,
down to any underatanding of the bumble limits s
if our expectations?merely to dress out the
ralks and lay out a kitchen garden, and plant ii
mtntoes, turnips, beet*, and carrots, was quite a n
lescent for him. In fact, so strong were his c
esthetic pr* ferences, that he persuaded my wife h
? let him dip all the turf off from a preen square e
ppoaite the bay window, and to lay it out into f
livers little triangles, resembling small pieces of v
>ie, together with circles, mounds, and various b
ither geometrical ornaments, the planning and
dantlng of which soon engrossed my wife's whole t
loul The planting of the potatoes, beets, carrots, p
Kc, was intrusted to a raw Irishman ; for, as to f
lie, to confess the truth, I began to fear that dig- ^
ring diil not ngee with me It is true that 1 was e
xceedingly vigorous at first, and actually planted o
with my own hands two or three long rows of n
aotatoes, after which I got a turn of rheumatism a
n my shoulder, which lasted me a week. Stoop- v
ng down to plapt l>eets and radishes gave me a n
irrtig", *-</*** \:jp\ content myself p
ry- ? -v'V;?i*s-xai."-;rwy ft
iv tn #, <?, f ij fo sei\> il
that my Irishman aid his duty properly, and then /
rot on to my horse, and rode to the city. But a
ibout one part of the matter I must say 1 was a
not remiss?and that is, in the purchase of seed c
tad garden utensils. Not a day passsd that I did fi
not oome home with my pockets stuffed with f
choice seeds, roots, .See, and the variety of my s
garden utensils was unequalled There was not n
n pruning-hook of any pattern, not a hoe, rake, or b
spade, great or small, that I did not have spec!- I
mens of; and flower seeds and bulbs were also v
forthcoming in liberal proportions. In fact, I had b
opened an account at a thriving seed store, for a
when a man is driving business on a large scale, t
it is not always convenient to hand out the change r
for every little matter, and buying things on ac- o
count is as neat and agreeable a mode of acquis!- a
tion as paying bills with one's note. ?
" You know we must have a cow.-' said my wife, o
the morning of our second week Our friend the t
pur loner, who had now worked with us at tho v
rate of two dollars a day for two weeks, was at
hand in a moment in our emergency. We wanted li
to buy a cow, and he had one to sell?a wonder- h
ful cow, cf a real English breed, lie would not it
sell her for auv money, except to oblige particular
friends; but a- wo had patroniied him, we should h
bare her fop forty dollars. How much we were t
obliged Co hfhi'.' The fortyuitiiar*"Were speeufi? r?
forthcoming, and so alto was the cow j i
" What makes her shake her heat) in that
Ftp f* aM my wife. MMtoMbitiAJ > t
served the interesting beast making sulftlry de- '
monstrations with her horns. " 1 hope she's gen- t
The gardener fluently demonstrated that the 1
animal was a pattern of all the softer graces, and I
that this head-shaking was merely a little nervous
affection consequent on the embarrassment
of a new position. We had faith to believe almost
anything at this time, nnd therefore came
from tho barn-yard to the house ns much satisfied
with our purchase as Job with his three thousand
camels and five hundred yoko of oxen. Her 1
quondam master milked her for us the first eveniug,
out of a delicate regard to her feeliDgs as a 1
stranger, and we fancied that we discerned forty
dollars' worth of cxcelleuco in the very quality
of the milk.
Hut alas ! the next morning our Irish girl came
in with a mosYrueful face: " And is It milking '
that haste you'd have me be after 7" she said; 1
" sure, and she won't let ine oome near her."
"Nonsense, Biddy!" said I, "you frightened 1
her, perhaps; the cow is perfectly gentle;" and 1
with the pail on my arm, I sallied forth. The 1
moment madam saw me entering tho cow-yard, 1
she greeted me with a very expressive flourish of 1
"This won't do," said I, nnd 1 stopped. The '
lady evidently was serious in her intentions of
resisting any personal approaches. I est a cudgel, '
an 1 putting on a hoi J face, marched towards her,
while MiM/ followed with her milking-stool (
Apparently, the beast saw the necessity of tempo- |
rir.ing, for she assumed a demure expression, anil j
Biddy Hat down to milk. I stood sentry, and if
tho lady shook her head, I shook my stick, and !
thus the milking operation proceeded with tolerable
serenit v ajjd success.
"There 1" said, I, with dignity,when the frothing
pail was full to the brim. "That, will do,
Biddy," and I dropped my stick. Pump! came
madam's heel on the side of the pail, and it
tlew like a rocket into the air, while tho milky
flood showered plentifully over mo, in a new
broadcloth riding-coat that I had Man mod for the
first time that morning. " Whew I" said I, as
soon as I could get my breath from this extraordinary
shower-bath ; " what's all this 7" My wife
came running toward tho cow-yard, as I stood
with the milk streaming from my hair, filling my
eyes, and dropping from the tip of my noso I and
she and Biddy performed a recitative lamentation
over me in alternate strophes, like the chorus in
a tireek tragedy. Such was our first morning's
experience, but as wo had announced our bargain
with some considerable flourish of trumpets
among our neighbors and friends, we concluded
to bush tho matter up as much as possible.
" These very superior cows are apt to be cross," ,
said I; "we must, bear with it as we do with the (
eccentricities of genius, besides, when she gets
accustomed to us, it will bo better." '
Madam was therefore installed into bcr pretty 1
pasture-lot, and my wife contemplated with pleas- j
uro the picturesque effect of her appearunce, reclining
on the green slope of tho pasture-lot, or '
standing ancle-dcp in the gurgling brook, or re- c
clining under the deep shadows of the trees?she '
was, in fact, a handsome oow, which may account, 1
in part, for some of her sins; and this considers- "
tion inspired me with some decree or indulgence '
toward her foibles.
Hut when I found that, Biddy could never ruc- 11
need in getting near her in the pasture, and that n
any kind of suooess in the milkiug operations re- T
?|iiire<i my vigorous personal exertions morning !
and evening, the matter wore a mure serious ns- 11
pect, and I began to feel quite pensive and appro- .
hensive. It is very well to talk of the pleasures .
of the milkmaid going out in the balmy freshness 1
of the purple dawn \ but imagine a poor fellow
pulled out of bed on a drirzly, rainy morning, *
and equipping himself for a soamper through a |k
wet pasture-lot, rope in hand, at the heels of such .
a termagant as niine I In fact, madam established '
a regular series of exercises, which had all to be
gone through before she would suffer herself to ''
be captured ; ss, first, she would station hsrself .
plump in the middle of a marsh, which lay at the '
lower part of the lot, and look very innocent and
absent-minded, as if retlecting on some senti- *
mental subject. 'Suke! 8uko! Huke 1" I ejacu- ''
late oautiously. tottering along the edge of the c
marsh, and holding out an ear of corn. The lady *
looks gracious, and oornes forward, almost within
reach of my hand I make a plunge to throw the *!
rope over her horns, and away she goes, kicking j!
up mud and water into my face in her flight, '
while I, losing my balance, tumble forward into
he marsh I pick myself up, and, full of wrath,
lehold'hrr placidly chewing the cud on lbs other *'
lids, with the meekest air imaginable, as who
ihould say, "I hope you nre not hurt, sir." I *
lush through swamp and bog furiously, resolving 0
to carry all by coup tic mam Then follows a mis *
lellaneous season of dodging, scampering, and '
[?o-peeping among the trees of the grove, interipersed
with sundry occasional races across the ?
?og aforesaid. I always wondered how 1 caught "
UK every day, and when I had tied her head to ?
me post and her heels to another, I wiped the
iweat from my hrow, and thought I whs paying P
lear for the ecocntriolties of genius. A genius ^
he certainly was, for besides her surprising ngilty,
she had other talents equally extraordinary,
rhere was no fence that she eould not take down.
lowhere that she could not go. She took the
dekets off the garden fenoe at her pleasure, using
ter horns as handily as I could use a claw hamner.
Whatever ahs has a mind to, whether It k
roro a bite in the cabbage garden, or a run in the w
orn patch, or a foraging expedition into the 'I
lower borders, she made herself equally welcome
nd at home. Such a ecampering and driving, t!
uch cries of " Huke here" and M Huke there," as 'f
Wini fill IJ ^ I r nv?? UU I unm UU I ?r?vr??rmhmeut
in a constant commotion At I in?, when w
be one morning made a plunge at the skirts of n 01
icw broadcloth frock coat, and carried off one *
ap on her horn*, my patience gave out, and I '
etermined (o sell her. h<
As, however, I hod made a good story of my *'
tisfortunes among my friends and neighbors, and w
mused them with sundry whimsical aooounts of tl
?y various adventures in the oow-oatching line, di
found when I came to speak of selling that i<l
hnre was a general coolness on the subjsot, and pi
lohody seemed disposed to he the recipient of my el
esponsibiHties. In short, I was glad, st last, to
et fifteen dollars for her, and oomforteil myself in
rith thinking that I had at least gained twenty- ai
ive dollars' worth of experience in the transac- "
ion, to say nothing of the fine exercise. of
I comforted my soul, however, the day after, by et
mrchasing and bringing home to my wife a fine rt
warn of bees.
liii 11 i Iim siH'Burn i
u Your bee, now," says I, l; is a re illy classical
uaect. and breathes of Virgil and the Augustan
go?and then, she is a domestic, tranquil, placid
reature! Flow beautiful the murmuring of a
ire near our honeysuckle of a calm summer
vening I Then they are tranquilly and penoeully
amassing for us their stores of sweetues*.
rhile they loll us with their murmurs. What a
eautiful image of disinterested benevolence!"
My wife declared that I was qui'e a poet, and
he hee-hive was duly installed near the tlowerlots.
that the delicate creatures might have the
nil lienefit of the honeysuckle and mignonette,
rly spirits began to rise 1 bought three differnt
treatises on the rearing of bees, and also one
r two new patterns of hives, and proposed to rear
ly bees on the most approved model. I charged
11 the establishment to let me know when there
rAs any indication of an emigrating spirit, that I
light he ready to receivo the new swarm into my
.YMwyv-T -,>*' </? ?v.(
i^f ths, A?r'
twriciin Kwir Intelligence waroroaght Wiethst'
swarm had risen I was on the alert at once,
nd discovered, on going out, that the provoking
reatures had chosen the top of a tree about thirty
set high to settle on. Now, my books had careully
instr?o<ed me just how to approach the
warm and cover them with a new hive, but I had
ever conten.(doted the possibility of the swarm
eing. like H unan's gallows, forty cubits high
looked desparingly upon the smooth-bnrk tree
fhlch rose like a column, full twenty feet, without
ranch or twig. " What is to be done?" said I,
ppealing to t wo or three neighbors At last, at
he recommendation of one of them, a ladder was
aised against the tree, and, equipped with a shirt
utside of my clothes, a green veil over my head,
nd a pair of leather gloves in my hand, I went
ip with a saw at iny girdle to saw off the branch
n which they had settled, and lower it by h rope
oa neighbor,similarly equipped, who stood below
rith the hive.
As a result of this manoeuvre the fastidious
ittle insects were at length fairly installed at
ousekeepiug in my new patent hive, and, rcjoicng
in my success, 1 again sat down to my article
That evening my wife and 1 took tea in our
loneysuckle arl>or, with our little ones and a
riend or two, to whom 1 showed my treasures, and
ip-imim at targ.? }ir wmrorTw rmt ounvetionoea
of the new patent hive
Hut alus for the hopes of man 1 The little unjrgetcbes.
-mtttaimit thry .la hat take
advantage of tny oversleeping myself the next
morning, to clear out for new quarters without bo
much as leaving me a P. 1'. C. Such was the fact;
at eight o'oloca 1 fouud the new patent hive as
good as ever; hut the bocs 1 have never seen front
that day to this!
"The rascally little conservatives!" said I; " I
believe they have never had a now idea from the
days of Virgil down, and sro entirely unprepared
to appreciate improvements."
Meanwhile the seeds began to germinate in our
garden, when we found, to our chagrin, that, between
John Hull and Paddy, thero hid occurred
sundry confusions in the several departments.
Radishes had been planted broadcast, carrots and
beets arranged in hills, nnd here and there a
whole paper of seed appeared to have been planted
bodily. My good old uncle, who, somewhat to my
oonfusioD, made me a oall at this time, was greatly
distressed and Bcandalized by the appoaranoe of
our garden. But, by a deal of fussing, transplanting.
and replanting, it was got into some shape and
?rder. My uncle was rather troublesome, as careful
old people are apt to be?annoying us by perpetuul
inquiries of what we gave for this, and that,
tnd running up provoking calculations on the
final cost of matters, and we began to wish that
bis visit might he as short as would he oonvenient.
But when, on taking loave, he promised to send
us a fine young cow of his own raising, our hearts
rather smote us for our impstieuoe.
" 'Taint any of your new breeds, nephew," said
the old mnn, "yet I can say that she's a gentle,
likely young orittur, and hotter worth forty dollars
than many n one that's cried up for Ayrshire,
orBurhum; and you shall be quite welcome to
We thanked him, as In duty bound, ami thought
it?i If l>o ? .u f??ll i.f notions, he wtvc
no less full of kindness and good will.
And now, with a new cow, with our garden be
giuning to thrive under the gentle showers o
May, with our flower-borders blooming, nty wift
uml I hAtrnn fn think nurMAlvcM in PitPiiiiiMA Rut
alas! the same sun ami rain that warmed our fruil
and liowero brought up from the earth, like sulky
gnomes, a vast array of purple-leaved weeds, that
almoet in a night seemed to cover the whole surface
of the garden beds Our gardeners both boing
gone, the weeding was expected to be dono by
me?one of the anticipated relaxations of my leisure
" Well," said I, in roply to a gentle intimation
from my wife, "when iny article is finished, I'll
take a lay anil weed all up clean."
Thus days slipped by, till et length the article
whs dispatched, and 1 froceeded to my garden.
Amazement! who could have possibly foreseen that
anything earthly could grow so fast in a few days!
There were no bounds, no alleys, no beds, no distinction
of beet and carrot, nothing but a nourishing
congregation of weeds nodding and bobbing
n the morning breeze, as if to say?" We hope
rou are well, sir?we've got the ground, you see 1"
I began to explore, and to hoe, and to weed. Ah !
lid anybody ever try to clean a neglected oarrot
>r beet bed, or bend bis back in a hot sun over
ows of weedy onions! lie is the man to feel for
ny despair! How I weeded, and sweat, and
lighod! till, when high noon come on, as tho reult
of all my toils, onlv three bods were cloaned !
Vnd how disconsolate looked tho good seed, thus
inexpectedly delivered from Its sheltering tares,
nd laid open to a broiling J uly sun ! Kvery juenile
beet and carrot lay tl.it down, wilted and
rooping, as if, like me, they hud been weeding,
nstead of being weeded.
"This weeding Is <|Uite a serious matter," said
to my wife; "the fuct is, I must have help about
"Just what I was myself thinking," aaid my
rife. " My tlower Itorders aro all in confusion,
.... ...J ............ ?*. .<rut|.iii*. .j w.
hat no)K><ljr would dream what they were meant
in short, it wan agreed between us that we
ould not afford the expense of a full-grown man
3 keep our place, yet we must reinforce ourselves
y the addition of a hoy, and a brisk youngster
rom ths vicinity was pitched upon M the happy
ddition This youth was a follow of decidedly
uick parts, and in on* forenoon nude such a
learing in our garden that I was delighted?bed
fter bed appeared to view, all oleared and
resaod out with such celerity that I was quite
ihameii of my own slowness, until, on rxaminaion,
1 discovered that he had, with great imparality,
pulled up both weeds and vegetables.
This hopeful beginning was followed up by a
jocesslon of proceedings which should herecordil
for the instruction of all who seek for help
rom the race of Iwys. Huoh a loser of all tools,
rest and small?such an Invariable leaver-open
fall gates, and letter-down of bars?such a pervnifteation
of all manner of anarchy and ill
10k?had never before been seen on the estate,
lis time, while I was gone to the city, was agreehly
diversified with roosting on tho fence, swinglg
on the gates, making poplar whistles for the
hlldren, hunting eggs, and eating whatever fruit
appened to he In season, in whioh latter aooomlishment
he was certainly quite dlatingulshed
,fter about three week* of this kind of joint gareuing.
we concluded to di*miM master Tom from
ie firm, ari'l employ a man.
" Thing* must be taken care of," said I, "and
cannot do it. 'Ti* out of the question " And ao
to man was aecured.
Hut I am making; a long atory, and may chanoe
i outrun the ay in path in* of my reader*. Time
ould fail ine to tell of the di*treaaea manifold
lat fell upon me?of cow* dried up by poor
ilkera, of hen* that wouldn't art at all, and hen*
i*t dnepite all law and roaann would ant on one
|g, of hena that having hatched families straightay
led tbein into all manner of high groaa and
end*, by which mean* nurueroua young chicka
night premature ooid* and perished ! and how
hen I, with manifold toil hail driven one of
ie?n inconaiderate gadder*, into a coop, to teach
nr domestic habit*, tho rata cam* down upon her,
id slew every chick in on* night I bow my pig*
ere always practising gymnastic exercises over
ie fence of the stye, and marauding in the gari-n.
(I wonder that Fourier never conoeived the
lea of having hla garden land ploughed by
iga, for eeruinly they manifest quite n decided
eotive attraction for turning up th* earth )
When autumn came, I went soberly to market
i the neighboring oily, and bought my poUtoea
id tnrnipa like any other man, for, between all
ie various system* of gardening pursued, I was
digwi to eonfee* that my first horticultural
fort was a decided failure, lint though all my
iral vision* had proved illuaive, there wereaoine
>ry aubetantlel realitiee. My bill nt the seed
store. for areds root*, and tool*, for example, had
run up to nn mount that wan p?rf<otl/ unnccountahle
. thru there were various smaller items, f
such as borsc-shocing, carriage-mending?for he
who lives in the country ami does Immures in the
city must keep his vehicle nn I appurtenance* i
had always prided myself on being nn exact man, j
and settling every account, great and small, with
the going out of the old year, hut this season I
found myself sorely put to it. In fact, had not I
received a timely lift from my good old uncle, 1
had made a complete break-down The old gen
tleman's troublesome habit of ciphering and calculating
it seems, had led him beforehand to
foresee that I was not exactly in the money-making
line, nor likely to possess much eurplus revenue
to meet the note which I had given for my place,
and, therefore, he ijuietly paid it himself, ss I
discovered when, after much anxiety and some
sleepless nights. I went to the holder to ask for
i an ext'^nsion'of credit: *_ '
| ' ( - ?' f? . ~v'? m /
I "Mo live cheap in H.ec motry.ft body mast know
1 M? ' *
LETTER FIIII I'lllHHELPIIH.
ruii.Ai>Ki.eiiu, 0?/sAer W6, 18 V I.
To the EiIt/or of the S.ihonnl E<a:
I lave ywn ever dreamed away a morning hour
beside the beautiful fountain in Frauklin square 1 I
The grounds stford the pleasantcst promenade I I
have found in Philadelphia, and when you are I
weary of walking, and while the limbs arc taking |
a siesta on one of the rustic scats, the gentle
Arlels of delicious reverie will whisper to you in
the murmur of willow branches, swaying in the
wind, or glance mirth or melancholy, as it may
pleasure you, from the Marry eyes of sunlit
A fountain among willows! It Is my very
ideal of elegauce ami grace. Those long, drooping,
delioately-foliaged houghs undulating, waltzing
with the zephyr, and those snowy water-shafts
that lift their foreheads to the crownings of the
sun, that go up pearls and fall hack diamonds,
X^ytlie thoiidht^of pure hearts ruined to Jjijavei^
are suggestive to my faucy of a multitude of fsscinating
images, of "allnring and delicious
" V??che. Jt's. w young maiden in her
father's palace, shaking about her loug, wavy,
pale -irown hair , the sweet minor of old cathedral I
anthem, white fingers sweeping the strings of a
Moorish lute; flower-scents, exquisite and impalpable
; vague and beautiful Imaginings floating
around n poets brain; lasso improvising la a Hf.
garden, ringing soft changes on tho name of
1 went lately to the squaro, aoeompanied by an
interesting child, a sweet little Michigan boy of
seven Septembers. Tho society of unnophistioated
children is always delightful to me. True
and earnest, without the wenrinoss of self-conquest?nor
the scars?beautiful and winsome,
without fOHsrioutmts?that perpetual Invocation
to goodness nn<i grr.titudo, a* the world should j
be?that constant temptation to vanity, an the
world Is?they are at leant, the fairest types wo
have in this life of human purity and innooonce.
As wc entered the gate from Arch street, my
little mentor impressed on my tnind that we were
not to mokt in the grouuds nor " break the trees
down ;" and as 1 found placards near the entrances
on which the same amusements wrro forbidden, I
mentally decided not to do thefn.
There are a number of tame squirrels, pretty,
graceful creatures, pensioners of the publio charity,
in these grounds; and one which met as on
the llrst patch of greensward nodded his little
head and twinkled his bright eyes, with an air
that cried,u Largess I" as eloquently as a Turkish <
beggar's mtihiw As my young esquire, untioipi
ting this species of tnritf, had been provided with
a handful of peanuts at the corner, we soon had
a half dozen of these little paupers at our feet,
some gnawing at the fruit with a gravity which,
hut that I deprecate irreverence, I might oall
senatorial, sumo, " in a fine frenzy rolling " ou the
green turf; and some tossing the nutshells about
in supreme contempt for "vulgar utilities" A ,
benison on you, every one, sportive eziles of the
greenwood! Heaven send that ye eat always
plentiful suppers at the feet of harmless infancy,
nnn near " unarmed it???m in (be heart or thin
city of fraternal lore and unfraternal murders
Mais, revenotu, with a reverent apology to all '
papas and mammas for tho rudeness, from s^uir
rela back to children.
1 romotnber taking a party of little, merry 1
maidens, one day last Hummer, to explore the
marvels of tho Capitol. Coming up the eastern
steps, we stopped to look at the statue of Peace
in the portioo. " Oh!" cried ono bright little
!;irl, holding up her two tiny hands, and with her
arge eyes full of admiration, " a sweet woman !
a sweet tirM woman! I love that beautiful
lady!" To me, If i had been an artist, this little
outguah of spontaneous, subjective criticism,
would have been deeply tlattering.
And this brings mo to a touching story I have
been rending in an eatroct from one of Mr Willis's
letters to the Horn* Journal, and which, unless
it conio too late, 1 shall need no excuso for
Kvery ono who has visited Washington, I suppose,
has spent hslf an hour before the pioturo of
the embarkation of the Pilgrims, on the panel in
tho Hotunda. Painters havo told me (hat it is
the beet picture there, and otherH. whoso connoisseurship
is that of feeling, merely, have confessed
to daily and nightly haunting* for many
weeks, from some of its figures and groupings
Tho tender sadness on the meek face of the in
ill 1*1 l>oy, an*! the saintly goodness making thut
of bin mother beautiful, with ell it* wrinkle*,
oontrut harmoniously?as, indeed, i* there not
ulnt/t/t harmony in tho nntitbeei* of object* beautiful
in thenurelee* 7?with the yonthftii an*t
stately figure of Lady Wiuidow, end the proud,
soldierly seeming of the handsome Miles Htaudish.
Hut It Is, I believe, the exquisite counteuanoe of
Rose, his young and lovely wife, through whose
incomparable eyes speak* the whole soul of feminine
constancy, tenderness, and trust, and on
whoso forehead rent some rays from the far-off
orown of martyrdom?that, elected heritage of
womanhood?whioh attracts all regards, and conquers
all hearts, consecrating, in a thousand memories,
shrines where its remembranoe may keep its
throne, " a thing of beauty," and " a joy forever
Mr. Wier, the artist, received, as perhaps all
your readers know, ten thousand dollars from the
Government, for this picture. This sum he Invested,
entire, for the use of his throe beloved
children. Alas for his |>oor heart?his poet
heart I It was his lot to survive them all. When
they were dead, a sentiment of religious delicacy
prevented his appropriating this fortune, whioh
reverted to him from his children. We can all
understand the feeling: it Is the same which
keeps sacred the wardrobe of the little lost darling,
though the widowed mother must toil the later,
of a winter's night, to clothe ber younger living
ohlldren ; the eamo that guards untouohed, in the
old homestead, the llbmry and laboratory, now
useless, of the dead student, though his sturdy
brothers mast labor the harder through the long
summer day*, to redeem the holy extravaganoo.
Hut the bereaved father bethought him of a worthy
use, to which he would oonsoorate this inheritance,
sanctified by thru brief ownership. Having
chosen a lovely, mountain-shadowed knoll,
in a rural village by the Hudson, he built thereon
a commodious house of worship, whioh he named
the "Church of the Holy Innocents." Other
ohildren, who should at that font he baptised into
His name who was the friend of children; priest*,
who should at that altar take the " tows or owl'*
upon them; lovers, who should there promise to
each other a lifetime of mutual help and mutual
love; the dead, over whose day the solemn words
of burial, " Karth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust
to dust." should there he spoken ; these were to
be the legatees of the artist's ohildren
! It not a "touching poem,"as Mr Willis says,
this offering whioh love and grief have laid on
the altar of faith and oharity 1
It Is easy to believe those ohildren must have
been fhir and lovely , and, with the image of Hose
SUndish in our thoughts, to fanoy their mother
most beautiful and good. Indeed I cannot oon*
oelve that tho artist oould have painted suoh a
face, except aa the portrait. In form or in soul, of
the woman that he loved For it Is not a sister's
nor a daughter's faoe?there is something wifely
in the Under oieattioga clustering around the
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