The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, May 13, 1857, Image 1

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I, ielttt 13,Isttrg.
UNWIND REFLECTIONS.
Ohl never let us lightly fling
A barb of woe to wound another;
Ohl never let us haste to bring-. .
The cup of sorrow to a brother.
Each has the power to wound; but ho -
Who wounds that he may witness pain,
Has spurned the law of charity,
Which no'er inflicts a pang in vain.
'Us God-like to awaken joy,
Or sorrow's influenco to subdue—
But not to wound, or to annoy,
Is Dart of virtue's lesson, too.
Peace, winged in fairer world's above,
Shall lend her dawn to brighten this;
Then all man's labor shall be love,
And all his aini his brother's bliss.
ANGEL CHARLIE.
I=
Fold his dimpled hands to rest,
Cross them softly on his breast;
O'er his forehead, pure as snow,
Let the golden ringlets flow;
Tenderly his eyelids close—
Just a line of azure shows,
Press his lips and let him go,
For the angels miss him sol
"Suffer little ones to come"—
The Redeemer calls him home,
Hushed and holy is the air,
Unseen spirits everywhere;
Ere he passed away, he prayed,
In the " Valley," not afraid:
He has left a track of light
That we follow him aright.
Lay hint underneath the snore•---
Where the violets will blow,
And the gentle blue birds sing,
When they feel the breath of Spring—
Pure the covering, and meet
For one innocent and sweet.
Though you love him, let hint go,
Lay him underneath the snowl
Gone the little dancing feet,
Gone the laughter wild and sweet;
Flying curls of golden hue,
Twining arms, and eyes of blue,
Lips of music, lips of love,
Flown.our little fluttering dove.
Gone the sunshine from the room,
Gone from rosy life the bloom.
Angel, in thy home on high,
Bost thou hear us sob and sigh :
Not that thou art safe from woe,
Bnt we miss thee, darling, so,
We are bowing 'neath the rod;
Thou art in the arms of God;
Naught isleft us but the shell,
Angel Charlie, "It is well."
THINGS TO enratirsia.
The eyes that look with love on thee—
That brighten with thy smile,
Or mutely bid - thee hope again,
If thou art sad awhile;
The eyes that, when no words are breathed,
Gaze fondly into thine—
() cherish them, ere they grow dim,—
They may not always shine.
The faithful hearts around thee.
That glow with love and youth,—
That time nor care ne'er yet have seared,
' Nor ravished of their truth:
The hearts whose beatings we havo heard
When throbbing near our own.-
0 cherish them,—those beatings hushed,.
Earth's dearest tones arc gone.
The days when there are hearts and eyes
That throb and beans for thee,—
The few fleet hours when life sloth seem
Bright as a summer sea,—
The thrilling moments, when to speak
The full heart's joy is vain.
0 cherish them,—once gone, alas
They ne'er return again !
cithrt
13INKS AND RUBS
Hubs Gets Married and Goes to Raising
Cantelupes for Rinks.
A. NEW YORK STORY, _FOUNDED ON. FACTS
Mr. Hubs was head salesman in the whole
sale jobbing store of Rinks and Whipple; he
was looked upon as one of the best judges of
satinets in Cedar street, as he well might be,
for he was a judge of nothing else. He knew
nothing, of
. men, manners, metaphysics, or
ruuslins; nothing of politics, pictures, poetry,
or poplins; of sects, sciences or satins. He
knew nothing of literature, linens or love.—
No, he knew nothing about love, although he
thought-that he did, for a young lady in Di
vision street, whose mother kept a fancy store,
by some witchery induced Mr. Hubs to offer
himself; he did so because he thought that
he was in love; but anybody who had ever
been in that condition, ,could tell at a glance
that John Hubs was a stranger to the passion.
His forehead was too narrow, and the back
part of his head was all shrunk away, or, ra
ther, it had never been filled out. There was
no' more love in him than in a winter squash.
It was his misfortune that he. could not love.
Poor Hubs! , I could sooner spare a tear for
such a fellow-being, than for the loss of an
estate, like Astor's. To live in a world which
has nothing in it but love worth living for,
and to be denied that!
Notwithstanding that Hubs had a faint im
pression that he, was in love, it is byno means
.certain that he would. have married for that
reason alone. His employers had made an
addition of two hundred dollars per annum
to his salary, and. he thought that a wife would
be very convenient to help him spend it. He
could not spend his salary before it was rais
ed, how then could he do so with so great an
addition to it?
By some accident, his employers heard that
their salesman was going to get married on a
Certain day, for Hubs could not brace. up his
nerves to announce the fact himself. He was
fearful that they might not approve of so rash
'an undertaking,, and he had not the coniage
to act contrary to their wishes. The night
before the great day ' that was to see Hubs a
married man, he called Mr. Rinks, the senior
partner,. aside, with the intention of asking
leave of absence for a week; for the lady's
friends had planned out a wedding tour to the
Springs for Hubs and his bride. But Mr.
finks, being fond of ajoke, when it. was not
played oil - at his own expense, and.,suspec
ting the nature of . the salesinan's communi
cation, did not give him time to open his
mouth, but informed him that he must go
into New Jersey the next morning by day-
.... 5 00
.... 7 00
.900
....12 00
8 00 10 00
—.lO 00 15 00
oo 0 0 00
....16 00 ' 24 00
....30 00 60 00
Eir/
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIL
break, to look after a delinquent customer.—
The terrified client looked as horror-struck at
this announcement as he well could, and be
fore he could gather together his astonished
senses, stammered out that he could not go.
"Can't go, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Hunks in a
voice that was widely at variance with the
expression of his face, as Hubs might have
seen if he had looked. at him. "But you must
go, Mr. Hubs. Can't go ! Bless my buttons,
Mr. Hubs, I never heard such an expression
before."
"I'm engaged to—to---" stammered Hubs.
"Engaged to what, sir?" said Mr. Hinks,
fiercely ; "engaged to what, sir ? I had. an
idea that you were engaged to the firm of
Hinks and Whipple, sir. Have we not raised
your salary two hundred dollars, Mr. Hubs?"
" You have," replied Hubs, " I have not
forgotten it, and I never can ; but I have got
a little engagement on my hands which I can
not well put off, and I should be glad to have
a week's liberty, if it be possible."
"It is impossible, quite impossible," replied
the inveterate jobber, with great seriousness;
"times are hard and business must not be
neglected."
Hubs was beginning to look most uncomr
fortably_pale, and Mr. Hunks was afraid to
carry the joke farther.
"Well, Mr. Hubs, - since you must.go," said
his employer, "I will dispatch Mr. Putty, the
book-keeper, into New jersey, and. here is a
trifle to pay for your wedding suit."
Whereupon he handed Hubs a check for a
hundred dollars, and then broke loose into a
most unjobber-like explosion of mirth, in
which he was joined by Mr. Whipple and all
the junior clerks, who had been watching all.
the proceedings, and dying for their employ
er to give them the cue, that they might laugh
at poor Hubs, who was so overcome that he
was forced to walk off to some dark nook
where he could give utterance to a heart full
of feelings, which had been gathering like
water in a mill-dam after a sudden thaw.
It would have been a difficult matter to de
cide whether Hubs or his employer went
home with the lighter heart that night. There
can be no doubt that, generally speaking, the
giver of a gift is a- happier person than the
receiver ; and if men would but bear this fact
in mind, there 'would be as little doubt that
gifts would become more common than they
are.
Hubs made his appearance the next morn
ing in Division street, in a white satin stock
and a Marseilles vest; the marriage passed
off without an. accident, the tour was accom
plished, and time's wheels rolled round as
smoothly and as swiftly as though nothing
remarkable had happened. In the first wild
tumult of his feelings, Hubs made a silent
vow that his first-born shsuld be called, in
honor of his employer, Rinks. But two years
had already flown by, and he had not, for a
very fe-v reasons, performed his vow. His
grateful feelings,however, had not diminish
ed in the slightest degree, and he wished for
nothing so ardently as for an opportunity to
manifest them. It is true that Hubs had at
times wished that his employer had been in
earnest about sending him into New Jersey'
to look after a delinquent customer, or that
something else had happened to prevent his
marriage. Not that . the matrimonial state
was not all that he anticipated, but it proved
to be a vast deal more; but that was no fault
of his employers.
Hubs occupied a little frame house in the
outskirts of the city, with a little dusty gar
den attached to it, containing a woful look
ing lilac bush and two very dirty poplars.—
He had selected this spot because he was
growing dyspeptic, and his physician bad re
commended a country residence; and had it
not been for a tannery and glue factory in his
immediate neighborhood, it would have been
quite delightful.
Mr.. Rinks had a remarkable excrescence
on his right cheek, generally of an ashy color,
but every autumn it assumed a very peculiar
yellowish hue. People said that he was mark
ed with a cantelupe. However that may be,
it is certain that he was extravagantly fond
of that kind of fruit, and while they lasted
he-hardly ate of anything but muskmelons.
Hubs was well acquainted with his employ
er's appetite, and he determined to raise some
of the finest cantelupes in his little garden,
that the world had ever seen, and present
them to him. It - was a happy thought; and
so completely took possession of his brain
-that he could think of nothine• t' else. Even
satinets became a weariness to him: It was
before the frost was out of the ground that
the idea occurred to him, and he could hardly
-wait for the sun to soften the soil so that he
could begin to plant. But while he was wait
ing for the season to roll round, he' read
through half a dozen numbers -of the Far
mer's Almanac in• search of agricultural
knowledge. It had never - occurred to him
before; that cantelupes required any particu
lar mode of culture. He thought,- if he ever
thought on ,the subject at all, that they grow
spontaneously. He knew that they were al
ways to be found in the market at a certain
season of the year, but how they got there
was a' matter entirely , beyond- the circle of his
thoughts. ' It:was a thing of course, and that
was all he knew about it. But his new course
of study opened to him a world of pleasures.
Every fact that 'he found out proved a new
delight. Once he• Idoked upon an acquain
tance with the- different qualities of satinets
,as the highest kind of knowledge, but he now
found turnips and cauliflowers a source of
amusement and profit. The whole vegetable
world was-suddenly invested , with most mar
velous properties.that excited the utmost as
tonishment in his. mind. He looked upon. a
potato with - feelings bordering on -veneration,
when he learnedthat that humble vegetable
was compounded of starch, water, albumen,
sugar, poison, fatty matter, 'parenchma, malic
acid-and salts ; and the knowledge that a sim
ple little green, weed, as soon as, it thrust its
innocent head above the earth;_begins to im
bibe carbonic acid and oxide of ammonia; from
the surrounding atmosphere, - and that - it pro
duces hydrogen, fixes azote and - abstracts
electricity, made him regard the grass be
neath his feet with affection. He had no idea
that there was such instinct in plants: The
trees in the Park, the- flowers in street win-
Bows, the vegetables in the market, and the
fruits on street stalls, all attracted his atten
tion, not as things of traffic or of nourish
ment, but as organized existences obeying the
laws of their own being, and showing forth
the glory and goodness of their Maker as
plainly, and as abundantly as his own spe
cies. He wondered at his former darkness,
and he began to perceive what an abundance
of loveable things there are in the world.
0, what a blessing is , knowledge! thought
Mr. Hubs. How it enhances our delights,
lessens our griefs, gives a, relish to labor,
makes even poverty cheerful, and takes from
death itself more than half its terrors.
His acquisition of knowledge was very
small indeed, and confined entirely to the
manufa'atiire of satinets and the culture of
cantelupes, and yet such was the liberal effect
of science on his mind, that he could have
clasped the whole world to his heart if his
wife had been out of it. His little insiht
into the mysteries of vegetable germination
had given him a vague feeling of awe for his
mother earth, although it was mainly as the
great parent of cantelupes that he reverenced
her, and he looked with growing impatience
for the time to arrive when he should be per
mitted to scratch her back with his iron rake,
and root up the weeds from her face as a pious
child would pull the intrusive hairs from the
chin of his grandmother.
He had exhausted his almanacs, but his
thirst for knowledge had increased in propor
tion to his acquisitions, as a miser grows cov
etous as he grows rich, and he now supplied
himself with a paper of seeds and Bridgman's
darling little Gardener's Assistant at the same
time, and took them home with the feelings
of a philosopher. His wife scolded him smart
ly for his extravagance, but he bore all her
womanly reproaches with the equanimity of
a Socrates, and only replied to her long lec
ture, "wait and see. That the reader may
know to what extent Hubs carried his phil
osophy, we will give a short extract from one
of his help-mate's exercitations:
" Goodness me! What is that, a book? A
nasty book ! Well, now we shall starve !
Mother always said so. I never knew a man
worth anything who was always lazying away
his time over books. Well, I see what my
fate will be. I shall have to go home to my
mother's. I won't work to support a loafer,
not I. You bad better have given me that
money to buy a breast-pin. I told you yes
terday I wanted a brooch to put my brother's
hair in. - You silly thing, what good will a
book do you ? 0, yes, I. seem to see you.—
Ain't you going to set up for a literary char
acter.
0, my ! I shouldn't wonder. You
told me yesterday you couldn't afford to go
to the theatre, and there you have went and
thrown away your money for a good-for-noth
ing 'book. But I'll go to the theatre if I live,
and to the museum too, and I'll treat myself
and my sister to ice cream and soda water at
Thompson's. See if I don't. I never done
such an extravagant thing as to buy a book,
nor my mother before me. I have got that
to be thankful for. Goodness me, no ! I
come from good, respeCtable folks, who knew
no more about books than. the Pope of Rome.
But don't leave your book in my reach, mis
ter ; if you do, into the fire it goes, I can pro
mise you."
Mr. Hubs' two years of matrimonial trials
had given him somewhat of an insight into
the peculiarities of the female character, and.
he well knew the consequences of attempting
to convince his wife that she had taken hold
of the wrong question • so he merely answer
ed, " wait and see," and resolved to profit by
her caution, and keep his precious little trea
tise under lock and key.
His grounds - only measured twenty-five
feet by forty, and as one portion of them was
used as a grass plat for bleaching clothes,
and a large slice was taken up by a gravel
walk, it will readily be perceived that his
garden could not be very extensive. But it
was large enough for his desires, and he look
ed upon his little enclosure with the feelings
of a landholder. It is doubtful whether the
rich Mr. Wadsworth, who owns half the Gen
esee fiats, ever felt as grand as Mr. Hubs did
when he first struckhis shovel into the ground
to commence the cultivation of cantelupes.
Ambition always will overleap its mark.—
Hubs planted his cantelupe seed at least a
fortnight too soon, and they all rotted in the
ground. After waiting an unreasonable time
to sea the young vines show their little heads
above ground he was obliged to rake open
the hills and plant afresh. Every morning
he got up with the sun, and sometimes before,
to watch his seeds, and see if any had burst
froM their dark hiding places ; and as the
dews were copious and the sun warm, ho soon
-had the delight of seeing their delicate leaves,
like outspread hands, throw: side the earthly
particles which covered them, and salute the
uprising sun with a grateful smile, like a new
• born infant gazing into the face of its parent.
Surely never before did a tiller of the soil-ex
perience such delightful sensation of-those
which agitated the breast of Mr. Hubs on
this occasion. He could not help running
back to the • bedside of his sleeping wife to
beg that she would come . down and look at
his cantelupes. But his "last best gift" did
not relish his intrusion at such an unreason
able hour, and she turned upon him with a
flow of expressions that our 'respect for the
-sex will not permitns to zepeat. • He left her
to sleep,on, and when, he took his seat in the
omnibus to go to his daily occupation of sell
ing satinets, he felt like a new man. Ho tried
to appear as humble as he could ; but he ex
perienced an uncomfortable feeling, of supe
riority in spite of himself, which ho bad ne
ver felt before. All day, his thoughts were
wandering. away to his cantelupes. He was
impatient to get back to them. A long-wind
ed customer from Vermont detained him for
ever, as it appeared to him, 'just, as he was
about to leave the store, and- it was almost
'dark when he reached home. Before he
would sit. down to 4 . 0 supper, he rushed out
to look at his younc,,, troop of vegetable ear
lings. ' But, alas r for human anticipations!
The cantelupes •had disappeared; vanished
from mortal sight as though they had never
been._They had been, cruelly, barbarously
cut oin the morning 'of their existence.—
He could' have wept over' their loss, but tears
----PERSEVERE.-
HUNTINGDON, PA., MAY 13, 1857.
would avail him nothing. Their fate was
shrouded in deep mystery. Nobody knew
how it was done. Mrs. Hubs was profoundly
ignorant of the matter, and Bridget was wil
ling.to take her Bible oath that she knew no
more about the "young millions" than the
child unborn. Mr. Hubs, of course, could
not compel people to confess what they : did
not know, and he went to his bed. is a state
of miserable ignorance about the premature
disappearance of his darling 'vegetables.--
But he had a horrible suspicion, which kept
him awake half the night, that he was the
victim of a wicked conspiracy between the
wife of his bosom and her servant maid.
He was not to be daunted, however, for he
had been educated in a, school which knows
no such word as despair. By dawn the next
morning he was planting fresh seeds, having
put them to soak in warm lye over night.--
But Hubs was 'doomed once more to disap
pointment; he had been seated five minutes
in the omnibus when a scoundrel cock, be
longing to a sporting neighbor, walked delib
erately into the hall door, which had been
left open by Bridget, and strutted pompously
into the garden, where, without the slightest
hesitation, he scratched up every individual
seed, and when he had stowed them sway in
his remorseless maw, gave three loud exulting
" cock-a-doodle-doos," and flew over the fence
into his master's premises. It was the coolest
performance that was ever seen, and when
the unhappy clerk was told of it, his wrath
was too bi& for words. He doubled his fists,
stamped his feet and looked about him for
some object upon which to wreak his ven
geance; but there was nothing appropriate
at hand, so after a moment's reflection he put
more seeds-in to soak, and when he had eat
ten his supper retired to bed, that he might
rise with the dawn.
In due time, and it was a very short time
too, for the sun was unseasonably hot, he had
the happiness to see the little leaves once
more poping up bright and joyous from the
earth. He had watched them and watered
them an entire week, sprinkling snuff upon
them to kill the bugs, and nipping off the
first indications of a runner bud, to strength
en the vines and give richness to the fruit,
when his wife's brother returned from a long
voyage to the Pacific. He was one of the
best natured and most restless creatures in
the world; like the sea, he -would not be
quiet a moment, and after he had kissed his
sister and joked her about her husband, he
rolled out into the garden, and, to make him
self useful, took up Hubs' hoe and began, to
use his own phrase, "to work a traverse
among the weeds."
" Goodness me !" exclaimed his sister,
" what - have you done t You have went and
hoed up all of Mr. Hubs' cantelupes. My,
what will he say when he comes home 1"
When Hubs did come home he was soon
informed of the full extent of his misfortune,
but he could not open his mouth. It was his
wife's brother who had done the deed, and
wives' brothers are always privileged charac
ters. He knew, moreover, that there was no
malice in the act. He had the stomach to do
anything that was monstrous, if it would
bring back his vines, but as no desperate
deed could restore them he had the prudence
to eat his supper in a quiet manner, although
his mind was in a most unquiet state. The
young . sailor expressed a world of regret for
the mischief he had done, and, to console his
brother-in-law, told him that he had got some
first-rate melon seeds in the till of his chest,
which he had brought from round. Cape Horn ;
and the next morning, bright and early, he
brought them up to Hubs, who was greatly
astonished at the sight of them. They were
as big as a dozen of those that he planted be
fore. The young sailor took a fresh quid of
tobacco, and told him that he would be more
astonished at the fruit. Then they both went
to work and made fresh hills, and, Hubs felt
once more happy at the prospect of being
able to present his employer with some of his
favorite fruit. In a week the new seeds
showed themselves. Never before were such
promising vines seen. They were so stout,
and they grew so rapidly, that Hubs was in
a continual ecstacy of wonder; but when he
looked out of his chamber window ono morn
ing and saw a large yellow blossom on one of
the vines, his admiration was boundless. He
ran down to examine it.
" You are a fine fellow," said Hubs, speak
ing to the vine, as though it had been fur
nished with a pair of ears like his own ;
" You are a fine fellow, yes you are, and I
will demolish that rascal of a caterpillar that
is eating ono of your big loaves. The vil
lain."
The rains fell, the sun shone bright and
warm• upon it; tho gentle summer winds rus
tled among its great yellow blossoms and
fan-like leaves ; the dews pearled it in the
morning and the bees hovered about it all
the day long, and still the vine grew, trail
ing its long rope-like body all over the gar
den, to the infinite wonder of all who looked
upon it. At last a little knob of pale green
showed itself in the extreme end of the vine,
and gave promise of fruit. It was hailed
with rapture by Mr. Hubs, and even his
Wife condescended to cast a favorable eye
upon it, out of regard to her brother, as she
said, but in reality because she was fond of
melons herself, and because she' had secretly
resolved to invite all Division street to par
take of it as soon as it should be ripe.
Hubs was constantly in a high-fever through
fear that somebody would tread upon the
vine, and ho cautioned Bridget, on pain of
-instant dismissal, to be cautions how she
planted her big feet near it. The .young
melon promised to be a monster; it grew in
the space of three days to the size of an ap
ple dumpling, and. Hubs put some dry leaves
under it to keep it from decaying ; although
a slate .would have been better, as he might
have found out by reading Bose.
Every precaution was taken to keep out
hogs and boys and every kind of vermin.—
The melon was watched over with a degree
of .solicitude passing belief, and it grew to a
size far surpassing any melon that had been
seen or read of.
By the end of September, it had increased
to such a size that Hubs could hardly lift it
off the ground. It had begun to assume a,
,
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.--,
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rich buff color, nearly as bright as a ripe
Havana orange, but it did not emit that rich,
delightful fragrance that ripe cantelupes usu
ally do. But Hubs was fearful that some
accident might befall it if it were kept long
er, and he determined to invite his employer
to partake of it while he was sure of it.
A good opportunity having soon occurred,
he asked Mr. Minks to do him the favor to
go home with him and partake of a remark
ably fine camtelupe, which he had raised in
his own garden. The mark on Mr. Plinks'
cheek turned yellow, as Hubs spoke.
"By all means," replied Mr. Minks, "but
is it really a fine one, though, Hubs ?"
" Very, replied Hubs, who did not care
to let out the whole truth, for he wished to
enjoy his employer's surprise.
"Then I will go to-night," said Mr. Minks.
"But have you got no more than one, Hubs ?
you know that I am a coon at cantelupes."
" I know it, sir," replied Hubs," but it is
a caution. Big enough too feed in corpora
tion."
" First rate, I dare say," said Mr. finks,
and he winked his right eye knowingly, and
smacked his lips, and the mark on his cheek
glowed with a bright yellowish tinge.
As soon as business hours were over, they
got into an omnibus, and in proper time
were landed in front of Mr. Hubs' residence.
Hubs would not allow Mr. Hinks to remain
a moment in the house, but hurried him into
the garden to show him the miraculous can
telupe.
" There it is, sir," exclaimed Hubs, point
ing to the monster, "isn't it a whaler?"
" Where? where ?" said Mr. finks, gaz
ing about.
" Here, sir, here," replied Hubs, as he
patted the huge vegetable.
" That 1" ejaculated Mr. finks, with a
very red face.
".rust try and lift it, sir," said Hubs, ex
ultingly.
"Hubs," said Mr. finks, seriously, while
the mark on his face changed from a yellow
ish hue to an ashy paleness, "you imperti
nent rascal, are you making sport of me?"
Hubs was paralyzed at the manner of his
employer, and could not speak a word.
"I'll have satisfaction for this, sir," said
Mr. Hinks, growing more and more indig
nant.
"You invite me to your house to eat a
Valparaiso pumpkin, do you, sir?"
" A Valparaiso pumpkin, sir?" gasped the
terrified Hubs, and the truth at once flashed
upon his mind." It was all owing to my
wife's brother. 0, dear and I shall have
no cantelupe after alit"
afitirresting ntisrcliang.
No doubt a woman's best and happiest
sphere is in her own family and home. In
discharging the duties of daughter, sister,
wife; mother, she is in her most congenial el
ement. Presiding in the domestic circle, she
is seen to the most advantage. To discharge
well her household duties—to sustain well
the tender relations we have named, is her
brightest crown. It is her pleasure, too ; for
her physical and mental structure peculiarly
fit her for this mode of life, and consequent
ly her instincts strongly impel her in the same
direction. It may well be doubted whether
women ever find true happiness and content
ment in any other sphere ; or whether en
grossment in business, or studies, or public
admiration and applause, are any substitute
or compensation for it. Such has been the
candid confession of some of the most bril
liant and cultivated of the sex who have been
known in the world of literature; and in oth
er cases, where it has not been openly avow
ed, it is unconsciously acknowledged in the
unmistakable murmurs of a disappointed
heart.
It is all important in discussing the em
ployments of woman, that her true relation
to the other sex and to the family should be
borne in mind. It is evidently an ordinance
of nature that men should provide for the
wants of the family by their labor; to the wo
man belongs the regulation of the house, the
training of children in their tenderer years,
and those thousand offices of sympathy and
love which woman's nature prompts and teach
es her to render, and which her hand only
can pay. Woman's best employment, then,
is at home; it should first be sought for there;
and other occupations aro to be looked for
only in those cases where women find them
selves without family ties that call for their
time and attention, or are obliged by circum
stances to earn a subsistence for themselves.
Unfortunately, this latter class is quite large,
and we have already frequently expressed the
opinion that it is an oppressed class—unduly
limited in the number and nature of its oc
cupations, and insufficiently- remunerated for
its labor.
Time was when the, proudest lady was not
above a praotical knowledge of household
duties, and the art of pickling, preserving,
baking and brewing, was an universal accom
plishment. A different mode of training fe
males is now in vogue, and the old custom
exists no longer. A very superficial knowl
edge of many things has displaced the lore
of the housekeeper. Young ladies are edu
cated mainly for display, and to excite sad
den admiration. Shall we say that husband
catching is one of the principal objects had
in view by the parents I" It would seem so
in but too many cases, and the knowledge of
music, drawing, and French, and so on, that
is acquired at school, is to answer a tempora
ry purpose, and to be forever dropped after
tho wedding day. The dropping of these ac
complishments is not always to be complained
of, for it is sometimes a merciful dispensation
to the eyes and ears of all concerned; but it
is a just subject of condemnation that a wo
man's education should be conducted as if
her life ended where a fashionable novel does,
with matrimony. This might be excusable
in the girl herself. She might even go as far
as the lady who, when told that the acids she
employed to whiten her teeth, would destroy
them, replied, "they would last until she was
married; after that sbe did not want teeth."
But it is unpardonable in parents and teach
Editor and Proprietor.
Women as Domestics.
ers, who ought to know better, and who ought
to acquaint the girls committed to them with
household affairs, and fit them for the disa
charge of tho practical, though homely, du
ties of their condition and lot:
The very same evil that has affected the
better classes of society has reached all oth
ers, and young girls who look forward to earn- ,
ing their own bread, have the greatest reluc
tance to engage as domestics, though very of
ten their condition would be greatly improv
ed by it. They will perform any amount of
drudgery with the needle, sacrifice health and
life in this unhealthy toil, rather than engagd
in wholesale housework. We have no doubt
that domestics in well-regulated families are
better paid, live better, and are more comfor
table and happy than a large number of work=
women otherwise occupied. And women
who have been domestics, and are subsequent=
ly married, (young women always look foie
ward to being married, as is right,) make far
better wives than those who have followed
handicraft or trade for a subsistence. They
introduce into the house of the husband some
thing of the cleanliness, neatness and taste
which existed in the houses of their employ
ers, and thus contribute much to refine and
elevate him. We are satisfied that few things
tend more to improve the humbler class than
the women of it engaging in their earlier
years as domestics in the houses of the come
paratively wealthy. The two classes are thus
brought closely together, and the example of
the one is made to bear potently on the oth=
er. The day that working-women are not
taught to cook, bake, sweep, wash and iron;
but are trained just as inrde apprentices are;
will be a most unfortunate one for the world;
and will introduce much wretchedness into
the poor man's home. Indeed, it will be in
the greatest degree demoralizing; for it is in.
the peace and comfort of home that one of
the strongest securities of social order, and
of individual prosperity, and even of moral
purity, lies.
And what is the objection to this mode of
employment? None, that we know of, save
a senseless pride. An opinion seems to have
got abroad that there is something debasing
in the service we speak of. The appellation
of servant is intolerable ; in New England
the more polite term of "help" is pretty
generally substituted for it. But this feel=
ing is absurd. Every man who works for
another is to some extent in his service. It
is so with the lawyer who takes charge of a
ease ; with a preacher, who engages to per
form certain duties; with a clerk, who is
regularly employed and paid, and with a
mechanic, who has work furnished him:
There is nothing degrading in the relation
for the favor is mutual, and the employer is.
often as much benefited as the employee. If
the demand for labor is greater than the sup
ply, the employer is actually under oblige..
tion to the person who works for him. Nor
is there anything in the duties usually per-'
formed about a house, that a woman need.
consider humiliating. They might be hu
miliating to a man fitted for a different task;
but they are humiliating to him only be
cause he is out of his sphere. For a woman
to perform them well is an honor. A wom
an in service ought in all cases to consider
herself as performing duties not beneath the
mistress of the house, if that mistress had
the health and time and inclination to do
them. There is nothing degrading in pre
paring food for the table, in taking care of
children, in watching a sick bed, in making
tidy an apartment. And as for the great
drawback, which servants so much complain
of, a cross mistress, in a great number of
cases it is purely imaginary. Some mis
tresses are bad ones, no doubt. Yet the
great majority of people are undoubtedly dis-'
posed to treat their servants well, and make
them comfortable. If there are inseparable
annoyances arising from the situation, why,
this is partaken of in common with all other
employments.
We are persuaded that very many young
girls could not do better than to qualify
themselves, by pains and attention, to per
form all manner of housework with a. ready
hand ; and if they really come to have taste
and skill, and are industrious and obliging,
they need never want comfortable homes
and kind employers.—The North American.
NO, 47.
A GRACEFUL COMPLIMENT.-It was a judi
cious resolution of a father, when, being ask
ed what he intended to do with his girls, be
replied, "I intend to apprentice them all to
their excellent mother, that they may learn
the art of improvinz time, and be fitted to
become, like her, wives, mothers, and heads
of families, and useful members of society!'
The regret men have for the time they
have ill-spent, does not always induce them
to spend what remains better.
CHILDHOOD'S Tr.Ans.—There is sometimes a
moral necessity for the correction of children;
notwithstandiug the pain which a profusion
of their tears will often give us. The great
rule is, never to correct in anger, but the
firmness which is founded on the deliberation
of reason. The sorrows of children, however,
are exceedingly transient, and have often
been made the subject of poetical remark;
but in no instance with more beauty than
than the following simile by Sir W. Scott:
"The tear down childhood's cheek that flows,
Is like the dew-drop on the rose ;
When next the summer breeze comes by,
And waves the bush, the Sower is dry."
ERUORS.—The little that I have seen of
the world and known of the history of man=
kind teaches me to look upon the errors of
others in sorrow, not in anger. When I take
a history of one poor heart that has sinned
and suffered, and represented to myself the
struggles and temptations it passed through ;
the brief pulsations ofjoy; the feverish iriquie.
tude of hope and fear; the tears of regret;
the feebleness of purpose; the pressure of
want; the desertion of friends; the scorn of
the world, that has little charity; the desola
tion of the soul's sanctuary and threatening
voice within; health gone; I would fain have
the erring soul of my fellow man with . Him
from whose hand it came.—Longfellow.
THE DEAD C.IIILD.—Few things appear so
beautiful as a young child in its shroud. The
little innocent face looks so sublimely , simple
and confiding amid the cold terrors of death.
Fearless, that little mortal has passed alone
under th ei shadow. There is death in its sub
limest and purest image; no hatred, no hypoco
risy, no suspicion, no care for the morrow,
ever darkened that little face ; death has come
lovingly upon it; there is nothing cruel or
harsh in its victory. The yearning of love,
indeed, cannot be stifled ; for the prattle and.
smile—all the little world of thoughts that
were so delightful are gone forever. Awe, too,
will overcast us in its presence; for the lone
ly voyager, for the child has gone, simple
and trusting, into the presence of an all
wise Father; and of such we know . , is the
kingdom of Heaven.
(Time is the most precious and yet the
most brittle jewel we have. It is what every
man bids largely for, when he 'wealth it, but
squanders it away when he gete it.