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"ST T &&WT (DIP1 H' 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.