SUPPLEMENT TO THE COURANT. LOOK AHEAD; or the First Stroke and the se readers of James Mountjoy, especially all -readers, will welcome this new work. It same characteristics that marked Mr. Roe's fer stories-simplicity of style-naturalness of er-life-like painting, and high moral purpose. he is a lad of humble life, who is the archit of his own fortune, and who by industry and conduct wins his way to wealth and high sopositions. Te know of no one who writes such purely erican stories as Mr. Roe. He deals not with Heal but the real. His characters are all native I soil and such as we meet with in every-day He describes what he has seen, and his deons have a peculiar vividness. How graphic xample is the account of the house-moving. Te heartily commend this story to our readers, ally to the boys. It will set before them a ehero, one who is not ashamed to labor with his whands, who in every position is honest, manly, get and faithful, and it will shew them too, that he inward that moulds the outward to its own wate; that refinement of spirit will tell under all Evantages of position; and that a noble purpose ps dignity to every kind of labor. We cannot we too many Charles Lovells amongst us. We add the following extract as a specimen of book. Our hero is about to go a boarding ury fashion in the family of Capt. Halliday who as described: Captain Halliday, the gentleman whose family he about to introduce himself to, had retired the sea a few years since, and had settled at grove, for the purpose not only of enjoying on ad the sight and smell of water, but also that he enjoy those comforts and that independence ich the more expensive habits of the city would ford from his moderate fortune. It was not atention to have involved himself either in the ares or labors of a farm, but overruled by the ade of friends be had purchased with his house, a am of 200 acres, being assured by his advisers ten remonstrating with them against laying out e-third of his property in this way, "that the pace was dog cheap," that the house could not be built for eight thousand dollars and that for the ten thousand, which the whole was offered for, he could get all his living and lay up money. The Captain is visited by some city friends, bose reception is thus described: The good Captain had been harrassed that day with the blunders of some of his hands, and the ants of others, and had forgotten all about visi.. until on bis approach home near supper time. en just on the brow of the terraced plot that back of his house he saw a company assembled, looking round very complacently upon the Ponds and scenery. Being too near to retreat in er to save appearance he made his way towards Captain Halliday, how do you do?" and a pateman with a lady leaning on his arm, stepped ay up and took his hand, and shook it with EL cordiality as quite astonished the old Captain, his sailor's heart was just susceptible enough be touched with such a greeting. So he as-cor. y returned the salutation. ad to see you sir; glad to see you; your sermadam," bowing politely to the lady. Mr. Windham, Captain Halliday." The CapA bowed again to the lady, "glad to see you stomach, Captain, and we have tried most every thing and it seems to do no good. So I told Mrs. Windham that I had long wanted to make you a visit up here, as you and I had heen old friends, and I have heard so much said about your situation. I thought we would just run up and see how your country bread and butter and fresh air would agree with George. "Glad to see you sir; are those the rest of your children?" "Ah yes; come here you romps; this is Jane, and here is Susan, and here is Ellen; here nurse bring the baby. Captain I want to show you a sight. What do you think of that?" taking off a gauze shawl and exposing to view a little chub of a thing that looked as though it had been stuffing from the day of its birth. "What do you say to that Captain ?" "Fat child, sir,-fat child. City air seems to agree with your children." "With all but our son George; don't you feel like taking a little bread and milk? You know mamma he ate nothing for dinner but that lamb chop. He wouldn't touch the dessert. I suppose milk you make no account of here, Captain ?" "Oh no, sir," the captain could honestly say that there was so little came in, after the calves had been supplied that it was not worth thinking of. "I thought so. Nurse, you go in and take the baby, I guess she would like some too; and see that George has stale bread in his milk. I am afraid fresh bread might disagree with him. "What a glorious life you must have of it here, Captain Halliday! Every thing within yourself; and this air," taking in a long breath, "it makes one feel ten years younger. You have a charming place here sir," added Mrs. Windham. As the Captain made no reply to her husband, his mind being probably absorbed with the thought how Master George was to be supplied with milk, knowing as he did, that there was scarcely enough for the milk pitcher. "Such an extended view! Such picturesque landscape! and there is such a delightful stillness and quiet withall; it seems as if nothing could ever trouble one here." Trouble! my dear wife, they don't know any thing about trouble in such a place as this. It must be very delightful for you, Captain, after the storms of the ocean, to find yourself in such a sunny harbor." The Captain could have told him a different story, but he merely replied, "Yes sir, yes madam, it is so." From Woolfert's Roost. The English and the French. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. The French intellect is quick and active. It flashes its way into a subject with the rapidity of lightning seizes upon remote conclusions with a sudden bound, and its deductions are almost intuite. The English intellect, is less rapid, but more persevering; less sudden, but more sure in its deductions. The quickness and mobility of the French enables them to find enjoyment in the multiplicity of sensations. They speak and act more from immediate impressions than from reflection and meditation. They are therefore more social and communicative; more fond of society, and of places of public resort and amusement. An Eng. lishman is more reflective in his habits. He lives in the world of his own thoughts, and seems more self-existent and self-dependen He loves the quiet of his own apartinent; even when abroad, he in a manner makes a little solitude around him by his silence and reserve; he moves about shy and solitary, and as it were buttoned up, body and soul. The French are good optimists; they seize upon every good as it flies, and revel in the passing pleas ure. The Englishman is too apt to neglect the present good, in preparing against the possible evil. However adversities may lower, let the sun shine but for a moment and forth sallies the mercurial Frenchman, in holiday dress and holiday spirits, gay as a butterfly, as though his sunshine was perpetual; but let the sun beam ever so brightly, so there be but a cloud in the horizon, the wary Eng lishman ventures forth distrustfully, with his um brella in his hand. The Frenchman has a wonderful facility at turning small things to advantage. No one can be gay and luxurious on smaller means; no one requires less expense to be happy. He practices a kind of 55 gilding in his style of living and hammers out every guinea into gold-leaf. The Englishman, on the con trary, is expensive in his habits, and expensive in his enjoyments. He values everything, whether useful or ornamental, by what it cost. He has no satisfaction in show, unless it be solid and complete. Everything goes with him by the square foot. Whatever display he makes, the depths are sure to equal the surface. The Frenchman's habitation, like himself, is open, cheerful, bustling, and noisy. He lives in a part of a great hotel, with wide portal, paved court, a spacious dirty stone staircase, and a family on every floor. All is clatter and chatter. He is good humored and talkative with his servants, sociable with his neighbors, and complaisant to all the world.Anybody has access to himself and his apartments; his very bedroom is open to visitors, whatever may be its state of confusion: and all this not from any particular hospitable feeling, but from that communicative habit which predominates over his char acter. The Englishman, on the contrary, ensconces himself in a snug brick mansion, which he has all to himself; locks the front door; puts broken bottles along his walls, and spring guns and man traps in his gardens; shrouds himself with trees and window curtains; exults in his privacy, and seems disposed to keep out noise, daylight, and company.His house, like himself, has a reserved, inhospitable exterior; yet whoever gains admittance,is apt to find a warm heart and warm fireside within. The French excel in wit; the English in humor; the French have gayer fancy, the English richer imaginations. The former are full of sensibility, easily moved, and prone to sudden and great excite. ment; but their excitement is not durable; the English are more phlegmatic; not so readily affec ted; but capable of being aroused to great enthusiasm. The faults of these opposite temperaments are, that the vivacity of the French is apt to sparkle up and be frothy, the gravity of the English to settle down and grow muddy. When the two characters can be fixed in a medium, the French kept from effervescence and the English from stagnation, both will be found excellent. This contrast of character may also be noticed in the great concerns of the two nations. The ardent Frenchman is all for military renown; he fights for glory, that is to My for success in arms. For provided the national flag be victorious, he cares little about the expense, the injustice, or the inutility of the war. It is wonderful how the poorest Frenchman will revel on a triumphant bulletin; a great victory is meat and drink to him; and at the sight of a military sovereign, bringing home captured cannon and captured standards, he throws up his greasy cap in the air, and is ready to jump out of his wooden shoes for joy. John Bull on the contrary, is a reasoning considerate person. If he does wrong, it is in the most rational way imaginable. He fights because the good of the world requires it. He is a moral person, and makes war upon his neighbor on sound principles. He is a money-making personage, and fights for the prosperity of commerce and manufactures. Thus the two nations have been fighting, time out of mind, for glory and good. The French in pursuit of glory, have had their capital twice taken; and John, in pursuit of good, has run him. self over head and ears in debt. A FORMIDABLE UNDERTAKING.-A contemporary puts the tobacco question into the following shape: "Suppose a tobacco chewer is addicted to the habit of chewing tobacco fifty years of his life, and that each day of that time he consumes two inches of solid plug, it amounts to six thousand four hundred and seventy-five feet, making nearly one mile and a quarter in length of solid tobacco, half an inch thick and two inches broad. Now what would the young beginner think if he had the whole amount stretched out before him, and were told to chew it would be one of the exercises of his life, and also that it would tax his income to the amount of two thousand and ninety-four dollars ?"—Life Ilustrated. In Sullivan county, Ohio, one of the candidates for County Clerk was pledged to give one half the proceeds of the office to the widow of the late clerk, and the other promised in the event of his election to marry the widow. A FAITHFUL GIRL-A case of woman's devotion has recently been brought to our knowledge which certainly equals anything that we have ever met with in the realms of romance. The circumstances occurred in this city, and are perfectly well authenticated. While the small pox was raging here a few weeks ago, a young man employed in a store on Lake street, was seized with the disease. It was, of course, improper for him to remain there, and the people with whom he lived, who were distant relatives of his, refused to permit him to stay in their house. The result was, that he was taken to the pest house, It so happened that he was engaged to be mar. ried to a most estimable and amiable young lady.No sooner did she hear of his condition than she determined at once that she would nurse him. She underwent vaccination, and then went where they had taken her betrothed to the pest house. Here she found him, alone, sick, wretched, deserted by all the world. And here she remained, like a ministering angel waiting beside his bed of pain, soothing bis distresses and attending to his wants. He died. But how consoling must have been his last moment. Though all the world had forsaken him, she, whom he loved better than all the world, remained faithful to the last. Her hand it was that smoothed his pillow; her eyes beamed upon him with mourn ful but unabated affection; into her ear he poured his last words of love, of sorrow, and of hopes that in this world might never be fulfilled. It recalled to our mind, when we heard it, the words that Bulwer puts in the mouth of one of his characters :-"To be watched and tended by the one we love, who would not walk blind and barefoot over the world."-Chicago Tribune, March 6. SIT UPRIGHT. SIT upright! sit upright, my son!' said a lady to her son, George, who had formed a wretched habit of bending whenever he sat down to read. His mother had told him that he could not breathe right unless he sat upright. But it was no use; bend over he would, in spite of all his mother could say. 'Sit upright, Master George!' cried his teacher, 88 George bent over his copy book at school. "If you don't sit upright like Master Charles, you will ruin your health. and possibly die of consumption.' This started Master George.id not want to die, and he felt alarmed. Softer school he said to his teacher. Please sir, explain to me how bending over when I sit can cause me to have the consumption?' That I will, George,' replied his teacher, with cordial smile. There is an element in the air called oxygen, which is necessary to make your blood circulate, and to help it purify itself by throwing off what is called its carbon. When you stoop you cannot take in a sufficient quantity of air to accomplish these purposes; hence, the blood remains bad, and the air cells in your lungs inflame. The cough comes on. Next, the lungs ulcerate, and then you die. Give the lungs room to inspire plenty of air, and you will not be injured by study. Do you understand the matter now, George?' I think I do, sir, and I will try to sit upright hereafter,' said George. THE AGE TO BEGIN SCHOOL-Children are generally sent to school too young. This is the testimony of all experienced teachers. Children sent to school at four years of age, and those sent at seven, will be, in almost all cases equally advanced at nine, with the advantages for further progress all in favor of the latter. Thousands of young minds are atunted and permanently dwarfed, by too early application to study, and thousands of young hearts receive an irradicable taint of moral corruption by too early exposure to the evil influences unavoida bly found in a promiscuous gathering of older chil dren. Michigan Journal of Education. A NAUTICAL INCIDENT-During our recent war with Mexico it was found necessary to call on the marines and sailors, serving in the Pacific squadron, to serve on shore, and a large number of salts were accordingly placed under command of Gen. Kearney. During one of their shore fights,' as Jack termed it, a body of 'Greasers' were discovered firing from a large stone barn, and it being necessary to get to its rear, in order to effect an entrance, the marine officer in command of the salts gave the order, 'By the right flank fiie left, forward! The blue jackets, in a high state of excitement 'tried it on,' but couldn't do it; in fact, they got all in a heap,' as a spectator describes it; when Lieut. St-w-y, of the Navy, seeing some of his lads in confusion, came running up with, 'What in thunder is the matter?' I can't get your men to obey me,' answers Mr. Marine. Give the order,' says S., 'and I'll see they do.' Accordingly, 'By the right flank,' &c. was yelled out, but worse and worse was poor Jack's puzzle, when S. sang out, Hang it, sir, that's no way to talk to my men. Luff, you lubbers, aud weather that barn! You had better believe it was done in no time.-Correspondent of Spirit of the Times. PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.-The virtue of prosperity is temperance; that of adversity fortitude. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testa ment; adversity that of the New, which carrieth the greater benediction and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the af flictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon,Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes.— We see in needleworks and embroideries it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground; judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly, virtue is like precious odors, more fragrant where they are incensed or crushed; for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.-Lord Bacon. "SUBJECTS."-A bill in the Maine legislature to surrender the bodies of paupers and criminals to surgeons for dissection, was humorously opposed on the ground that the rich and good and learned should set the example of giving their bodies after death for the benefit of science; the following amendments were offered: "Whenever aby citizen of this State shall die, being the owner of real and personal estate amounting to $100,000, his body shall be delivered to any surgeon who shall demand the same for dissection." By another: "To strike out the classes named in the bill, and insert 'members of the legislature, governor and cougil, and heads of executive departments, and also all know nothings in good standing."' It is strange how we shrink instinctively from the power of cold; and yet when we once nerve our energies to breast it, what a victorious delight there is in it, worth hours of the pusillanimous comforts of the fire-side. He who breasts such a storm, who plows his way through its driven heaps and breathes its inspiring breath, inly chides himself for his fire-side slothfulness, and seems to have come out into a grander part. Cold, and storm, and snow, are like labor, self-denial and affliction. We shiver at them, shrink from them, but once plunged into companionship with them, the heroic part of our nature awakes with joy such as our softer pleasures cannot give. A GOOD SELL.-A clergyman having on a certain occasion, delivered himself of what is called a fiue address, was met by one of his hearers the next day, when in the course of the conversation, allusion was made to it; the parishioner remarked that be had a book containing every word of it, and had heard it before. To this the clergyman boldly asserted that the address was written by himself the week previous to its delivery, and therefore the assertion could not be correct. The next day be received a splendid copy of Webster's Dictionary. THE CATECHISM REVISED.-In a household whe the good old puritan custom of catechising th family is still observed, the following amusing inci dent is said to have lately occurred: The father asked his eldest son, a boy of abou fifteen summers, who had just finished reading Th Conflict of Ages,' 'John, who was the first man?'The boy hesitated a moment and then said- Dr Edward Beecher, of Boston.' What!' thundered the old gentleman in aston ishment. 'Father,' said John, 'I should think he was, for he claims to have existed long before God created Adam.-Bost. Post. Punch very slanderously makes use of the following:The sun is called masculine, from its sup porting and sustaining the moou, and finding where withal to shine away as she does of a night, and from its being obliged to keep such a family of stars beside. The moon is feminine, because she is constantly changing, just as a ship is blown about by every wind. The church is feminine because she is married to the state. And time is masculine because he is trifled with by all the ladies." Answer-both. If a man should see his father hanging himself, and his mother sticking herself with a fork, which would be save first ? Decided in the affirmative, unanimously. Which is generally the easiest, to file a newspaper or saw. Decided to be undecidable, any how. To which might be added, which is the most use ful to mankind, the rim of a cart wheel or the spokes. Every day in the week is, by different nations, devoted to the public celebration of Divine Service. Sunday by the Christians, Monday by the Greeks, Tuesday by the Persians, Wednesday by the Assyrians, Thursday by the Egyptians, Friday by the Turks, and Saturday by the Jews. What a melancholy spectacle it is when a young man is seen wandering through the streets of a strange city, alone in the crowds, solitary in the mul titudes, meeting no extended band, no smile of welcome, destitute of money and friends, and-with corns and tight boots on his feet. "What did you hang that cat for, Isaac ?" asked the school ma'am. The boy looked up, and with a grave look answered-"For mewtiny, ma'am." He had fifty marks immediately put down against his name. You are at all times what God sees you to be you are not at any time what man judges you to be, only so far as his judgment is in agreement with the, Divine light. This is a most interesting consideration. "Have you much fish in your bag ?" asked a person of a Asherman, who was returning home. "Yes, a good eel," was the slippery reply. The rich man lives happily, so long as he uses his riches temporarily; and the poor man, who patiently endureth his wants, is rich enough. He that is not content in any state, will be content in no state; for the fault is not in the thing, but in the mind. If you have as many diseases in your body as a bill of mortality contains, this one receipt of temperance will cure them all. The philosopher Blas being asked-What animal he thought the most hurtful? replied-That of wild creatures, a tyrant; and of tame ones, a flatterer. Let your prayers be as frequent as your wants and your thanksgivings as your blessings. A good conscience seats the mind on a rich throne of lasting quiet, but horror waits upon a guilty soul Young men, when they are once dyed in pleasure and vanity, will scarcely take any other colour. When men will not be reasoned out of vanity they must be ridiculed out of it. t VOL. XX. Poetry. Gentility. PUBLISHED EVERY OTHER WEEK AS A PART OF THE Genteel it is to have soft hands, But not genteel to earn your bread; But not genteel to swing the flail ; But not genteel to cut your fuel; But not genteel to wear thick shoes; But not genteel to have good health; But not genteel your clothes to mend ; But not genteel at home to stay; But not genteel your cash to save; Genteel it is to play at dice, But not genteel to take advice; But not genteel to keep a shop; Genteel it is to waste your life, But not genteel to love your wife. I cannot tell what I may do, Or what bad scenes may yet pass through; I may, perchance, turn deaf and blind, The pity of all human kind; I may perhaps be doomed to beg, Or hop about upon one leg; Or even I may come to steal, But may I never be genteel! Original. Don't Kill the Birds. As spring advances, our youthful Nimrods feel the influence strong upon them to pop away their eld fowling pieces at the birds. Not that they want them for food-not that they do not relish their songs—but simply to gratify that innate propensity to destruction that marks our Yankee youth. But we beg of the boys to refrain. The little birds are becoming alarmingly scarce in the vicinity of Hartford. We say alarmingly-for the armies of the palmer worm, caterpillar, and canker worm are alarmingly on the increase. The little birds are the farmer's best friends. They destroy the bags and the Worms that infest his crops and his orchards. The blackbird may occasionally root zp a few hills of corn, but he daily gathers wore destructive insects, as he travels over the ewly ploughed fields, than all the corn is worth thich he destroys, ten times over. The robin may take a few of your spare cherries, but he is only CONNECTICUT COURANT. HARTFORD, SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 1855. taking pay for the worms he swallows which would have made your garden a desolate waste. The farmer cannot do without the little birds. They are his best friends. We have no doubt that the late ravages of various insects are owing to the wholesale dstruction of their enemies the birds. So important is this subject considered by Agriculturists, that the Secretary of the board of Agriculture in Massachusetts, Mr. Flint, has issued a circular urging upon farmers and others the execution of the stringent law there is in that State against killing such birds. We have a similar law in this State, and we trust our farmers will see rigidly to the prosecution of all breakers of it. Their coming crops will reap the benefit of sparing the little birds. Hartford Hospital. At a meeting of the Corporators, held at the Court Room, in this City, on the 20th day of February 1855, the Hartford Hospital was organized under the act of incorporation procured from the Legislature of 1854, by choosing the following board of Directors, viz: David Watkinson, A. S. Beckwith, Samuel Colt, Thomas Smith, Francis Parsons, William T. Lee, Albert Day, S. S. Ward, G. W. Russell, Chester Adams, G. B. Hawley, James G. Bolles, Myron W. Wilson, Jonathan Goodwin, and Lucius F. Robinson. By said act of incorporation the Mayor of the City of Hartford, for the time being, together with the gentlemen chosen directors, shall constitute the board of Directors for the present year. At a subsequent meeting of the Directors held at the same place on the 27th day of February, 1855, Francis Parsons, Esq., was unanimously chosen President; William T. Lee, Vice President; F. A. Brown, Secretary and Treasurer; Chester Adams, G. B. Hawley, and L. F. Robinson, were chosen an Executive Committee. At a meeting of the Directors held on the 4th day of April, 1855, the following named Physicians and Surgeons were appointed to take charge and attend to the medical and surgical department of the Institution, viz: S. B. Beresford, G. W. Russell, G. B. Hawley, E. K. Hunt, M. W. Wilson, and A. W. Barrows. The board of Directors also adopted By-Laws for the regulation and management of said Corporation, and authorized the Executive Committee to take the care and management of the Hospital. Accordingly, we the undersigned, Executive Committee as aforesaid, do hereby inform the Citizens of Hartford, that for the present, we have rented the House near the South Green, which for the last three years has been used by the Society for providing a Home for the Sick, (said Society having ceased to exist since the organization of the Hartford Hospital) and are now ready to receive patients. Any person may be admitted as a patient by presenting a certificate to either of the Executive Committee, from one of the above named Physicians, and giving sufficient security for the payment of his board. The lowest price of board is three dollars per week, higher prices may be charged, according to NO. 8. accommodations received, and as the Committee may determine. The board includes nursing, medical attendance, washing and all other attention which may be necessary for the comfort and recovery of the Patients. It is not designed to admit persons having contagious or infectious diseases into the same building with other patients; arrangements are being made to provide for small pox and other contagious diseases, in another part of the city, and to be under the control of those having the charge of the Hartford Hospital. A superintendant has been selected with great care, and every effort will be made to render the Institution acceptable to the public and a blessing to the unfortunate. For further information relating to the Hospital the admission of patients, or anything connected therewith, the public are respectfully invited to call upon either of the undersigned Executive Committee. CHESTER ADAMS, G. B. HAWLEY, L. F. ROBINSON. Hartford, April 9, 1855. Miscellaneous. From Godey's Lady's Book for March. BY T. S. ARTHUR. 'Another day's work is done, thank fortune!' said Mr. Peterkin, throwing himself, with an air of careless satisfaction in a reclining attitude on a bench. I'm not a lazy man, but I do feel glad, these hot June days, when the sun goes down.' A few minutes only did Mr. Peterkin remain in this position. Rising up quickly, as a thought crossed his mind, he added 'Woman's work, it is truly said, is never done. I must hurry off home, and see how poor Mary is getting along. She did not seem at all well when I left her at dinner time.' 'You don't expect to cook your supper, do you?' remarked an employe in the establishment where Mr. Peterkin was engaged, speaking with a slightly sneering expression. 'If cook should happen to be out, and wifey sick,' was the smiling answer, 'the kettle will not fail to reach the boiling point through my neglect or indifference. That's a fact.' 'Every man to his taste,' said the other. 'But I'm no Betty. I suppose you could dress the baby, on a pinch?' 'Haven't tried it yet; but we are never too old to learn, you know. Shouldn't object to an experiment in that line-for I love babies-if there was no woman's gentler and more skilful hand ready to do the work,' cheerfully returned Peterkin. The other tossed his head in a half contemptuous manner, replying that his babies would go a long time without washing and dressing, if they waited for him to do it. For his part, he despised woman's work. 'You don't despise women also, I hope?' said Peterkin, looking so steadily and meaningly at his companion that he appeared slightly confused. "They are well enough in their place, and exceedingly useful,' was answered in a tone of affected gayety. Then he added, more seriously, as if to do away with any unfavorable impression in regard to his home relations that his words and manner might have created. 'I leave to my wife the entire management of the kitchen and nursery, and never trespass an inch on her prerogative. It's as much as I can do to maintain the household. Her department is entirely distinct from mine. She never interferes with me, and I award to her a like immunity.' 'How is it if a meal is late or badly cooked ?' asked Peterkin. 'I grumble, of course-perhaps scold,' said the other. 'If I find the money to buy good food, and it is spoiled in cooking, I think I'v a right to grumble. I should like to know what you do under similar circumstances ?' 'I haven't the trial often,' returned Peterkin. 'You're lucky then, that's all I have to say. I suppose you raise such a storm when there is any defect, that your wife receives a lesson which she does not care often to have repeated. I think I shall try your remedy.' 'It might be better, perhaps, if you would,' said Peterkin smiling. 'Well, that is your remedy, precisely? What do you say, and how do you say it?' 'When a meal is late or badly cooked, you mean?' 'Yes.' 'I take several things for granted, in the outset" answered Peterkin. 'What are they?' 'In the first place, I give my wife credit for good intentions. I know that she meant to have all right. This, of course, stifles impatience and a disposition to complain. In the second place, I know that she is sufficiently annoyed at the defect. To increase this annoyance by fault-finding or fretfulness, would not only be selfish and cruel on my part, but create a state of feeling in my wife that must increase her unhappiness, and cloud the whole atmosphere of home.' 'And you say nothing about it?' exclaimed the other in surprise. 'Not a word. The pleasures of mere eating and drinking do not constitute the whole of domestic enjoyment. If the meal is not quite so good as expected, so much the more necessity to increase, rather than diminish, good feeling, which also has its office of recreating and strengthening. But I must not stand talking here,' added Peterkin. 'They will be looking for me at home. Mary, as I said, was not well when I left at dinner time. She has a new girl in the kitchen, too; one, in my opinion, not much to be relied on. Good evening, all.' And the young man started off with a light quick step. The one with whom he had been talking felt strongly inclined to utter a sneering commentary on the declaration of Peterkin; but certain contrasts between his own home conduct and that of his business companion, were presented so vividly before his mind that, in very shame, he kept silent. The day had been unusually hot and sultry, and the duties of Mr. Peterkin of an exhausting nature. Cheerful as he appeared, and lightly as he moved away, under the temporary excitement of mind occasioned by the little interview just mentioned, he found himself weak and weary before reaching home. Hungry, too, he was, and quite ready for a comfortable evening meal. 'It can't be seven o'clock, Henry,' said his wife, as he entered; and she seemed slightly worried. 'Yes, and ten minutes past,' answered Peterkin; and he sat down, with an exhausted air, and commenced fanning himself with the broad brim of his Panama, which he still held in his hand. 'What a trying day it has been,' he remarked. The hottest of the season.' 'Get your father a cool drink of water, Anna,' said Mrs. Peterkin to their little daughter, as soon as she perceived how weary and heated her husband was. The glass of water was quickly brought, for love in that household was ever prompt in action. 'Thank you, dear,' said the father, with a smile, as he received the water. 'Ah, this is refreshing!' he added as he took the glass from his lips. 'I feel a hundred per cent. better already. Hang up my hat, Carry; How's baby? She wasn't at all well when I left home this morning.' 'Poor little dear! She's been fretful all day,' replied Mrs. Peterkin. It has been so warm; and I think she's cutting a tooth. I've had her in my arms nearly the whole afternoon. Hush! There, she is awake again. I was in hopes she would rest the evening through. Oh, dear, I'm quite worn out! Carry, go up to your sister, and try to amuse her, while I see about supper. The new girl isn't to be depended upon.' Mrs. Peterkin went to the kitchen, where she found the prospect of an early tea even worse than she anticipated. But there was a kind of magic in her presence, that quickly gave a new aspect to everything. A slight but skilful re-arangement of the fire caused it to burn clearer, and a few prompt directions to the cook brightened the ideas of that individual wonderfully. Just as Mrs. Peterkin's hands were fairly in her work, the babe, which had at first been partially quieted by Carry's efforts, began to scream violently. 'O, dear, dear!' exclaimed the mother, whose nerves were already so excited that she only maintained exterior composure through the most earnest effort. What is to be done? I can't bear to hear that poor sick child's cries; and, if I leave here, there's no telling when tea will be ready" It only needed an impatient word from her husband to destroy the equilibrium for which Mrs. Peterkin was so bravely struggling. With him, at that moment, rested the happiness of his little household. He was depressed in body from weariness and hunger. He had looked forward to the evening meal with pleasure, and had expected to find it, as usual, on the table. Instead of this, he found his wife in a slightly worried state, and the supper he was so fully prepared to enjoy far from being ready. It had cost him a little effort to hide his disappointment on discovering the aspect of affairs, when he came in; but he gave utterance to cheerful words, and these restored cheerful feelings. Left alone, after his wife had gone to see after the evening meal, and his little daughter to quiet the baby, Mr. Peterkin's thoughts diverged into rather an unusual channel for himself, 'A little forecast on wifey's part would have prevented this,' when the baby's loud screams disturbed him. It was rarely that he suffered any thing to annoy him at home. Now, however, he did feel worried. An exhausted body left an exhausted mind. Over his countenance flitted a fretful expression, and a few contracting lines shadowed his forehead. For a little while he sat, the screams of the baby fluttering his nerves. Then he arose, and was about passing to the kitchen to say, half-impatiently,' Do let supper alone, and go up to the baby,' when a better thought was born of a better purpose; and, instead of doing as at first inclined, he ascended to to the chamber, and, taking the child, quickly soothed it with gentle tones and loving words. What a magic power to awaken discord or produce harmony is possessed by the husband and father in that little point of time! The good and the evil impulse were for a moment or two evenly balanced, but good preponderated, and a calmness fell upon the slightly troubled waters of his household. And such power every husband and father possesses; yet how few use their influence at all times well and wisely! So interested did Mr. Peterkin soon become in the now interested and quiet babe, that he forgot all about his hunger and weariness; and, when supper was at length announced, he took his place at the table in a pleasant frame of mind, and communicated to all a measure of his cheerful spirit. If he noticed that the tea was a little smoked, or the toast burned at the edge, he did not speak of it, and so relieved the mind of his wife, who felt worried at these little defects in their evening meal. Baby cried no more. After tea, she fell off into a natural sleep, and did not awaken until the next morning. 'Don't sew this evening, Mary,' said Mr. Peterkin as his wife took her work-basket and drew up to the table on which she had just placed a lamp. 'Its only a little mending,' she replied, with a grateful look at her husband for his kind consideration; and it must be done to-night. It won't take me long.' 'Woman's work is never done,' said Mr. Peterkin. 'I wish I could help you; but plying the needle is out of my line.' 'You can read, however,' answered his wife, with one of her pleasant smiles, ‘and that we can both enjoy.' Mrs. Peterkin, although it was an hour before she put up her needle, experienced no weariness of body during the time, for the deep interest she felt in the volume from which her husband read. Peace drew that night around this humble family the curtains of repose. They were not rich in worldly goods; they were not honored among men ; and yet few arose with a more cheerful spirit when the day dawned, or retired with calmer hearts when night called them to refreshing slumber. And why ? We need not answer the question. 'And this is your 'good model' of a husband!' we hear some fine young lady, or 'accomplished gentleman, say, with a captious toss of the head. 'So a man must nurse the baby, and stay at home and read to his wife every night while she darns the stockings, or else he is not a good husband, according to your wonderfully elevated standard. And this is the spirit in which you have read ? Well, we don't feel inclined to discuss the matter with you. Here is a 'model;' we have called it a good one. It is taken from humble life. If all husbands in every social grade, from the highest to the lowest, will bear towards their wives the same unselfish regard that Mr. Peterkin bore toward his, there will be light in many dwellings where all now is darkness and discontent. Doctor George Sumner. The following notice is understood to come from the pen of Bishop Burgess of Maine. The late Dr. Sumner, of Hartford, was a man whose Christian worth was such as should not pass from this world without a wider commemoration than is afforded by the funeral honors in which a grateful city has united. His professional eminence will be duly recorded by those who, from kindred pursuits and constant association, could appreciate it best; and it is understood that a just tribute to his general excellence will appear in one of our Church publications. The present notice is but the dictate of private friendship, and the memorial of many years of affectionate intercourse in circumstances which developed fully his admirable character. George Sumner, M. D. was born at Pomfret, Conn. in the year 1793, and was a grandson of the revolutionary General Putnam. His academic education was at Yale College; and after the completion of his medical course, he was established in the practice of his profession, for a short time at Providence, and then for the remainder of his days at Hartford. There, where the remembrance of men like Cogswell and Todd is still fresh, Dr. Sumner maintained, at the very head of his profession, through more than thirty years, the highest standard of professional and private excellence; and was, whatever skill and intelligence, cultivation and taste, honor and unbending rectitude, gentleness and kindness, disinterestedness and unbounded benevolence, can render a christian physician in a community which knew how to hold such an one in honor. In his early professional life, he published a work on Botany, which with him was always a favorite study; and after the foundation Trinity College, he held the Professorship of that department of natural history; which was eventually rendered but honorary, by the pressure of other duties. He had an elegance and refinement of mind, however, which could never permit his cultivation to limit itself to the scientific prosecution of professional studies, even in his days of most uninterrupted occupation. From those anxious or painful scenes of the sick chamber to which he was compelled to give so much of the feelings of a sensitive heart, he sought a genial relief in every department of intelligent inquiry and of taste. He loved and read the book of nature; he delighted in the noblest authors of our language; he prized the society of the wise and good, alike in real life and in the intercourse of his library. In his latter years, with a view to the improvement of his health, he visited Europe, and saw many scenes with which his reading had long made him more familiar than the most of travellers become even by personal observation. But the acquisitions of Dr. Sumner were all veiled by a modesty so characteristic as to give them a peculiar charm; and distinguished as he was, it was difficult not to think of him chiefly as the good and amiable man, rather than as the man of science, skill or literary cultivation. How unspeakable a blessing to a large circle of his fellow-men is that 'beloved physician' in whom thorough knowledge, sagacious perception, the soundest judgment and the gentlest hand are joined to a large, true, kind and conscientious benevolence. Such a man, pre-eminently, was Dr. Sumner; the confidence which leaned upon him included no mixture of regret that in any respect he was not otherwise, or of apprehension lest he should fail when even more than medical aid might be demanded. He was the friend of every patient, the cheerful and cheering visitor; the faithful counsellor who could dissipate imaginary dangers with kindness, and tenderly appreciate the dread which real ones might inspire. The utter absence of all display of learning and of all which could be mistaken for pretence, was everywhere felt to be, when united to his undoubted attainments, the surest pledge for the well weighed correctness of his opinion; and men reposed upon him as upon a brother. When still a young man, he became a communicant of the Church; and gave it, through life, the service of a ready mind and heart. Under the pressure of calls which left but a small part of the Lord's day unoccupied, he found time for habitual attendance, in the house of God and at the Lord's table, a glad hearer and a devout worshipper. He read our great divines, and loved them; and few members of the Protestant Episcopal Church better understood its character and its interests. While his own mind tended always towards the wider and more charitable construction, he could never become the follower of any school, but endeavored to hold his own course "in all godliness and quietness of living." It has been the lot of very few laymen who have not been members of the public councils of the Church, to enjoy the intimacy of so many of the more prominent of our clergy. Besides Bishops Chase and Wainwright, Dr. Wheaton, Bishops Burgess and Clark, who had been successively his parish ministers, and all of whom were his dear friends; besides the Bishop and Assistant Bishop of Connecticut, to both of whom his house was almost a home; many others were, from time to time, the welcome guests of his frank hospitality, or preserved with him the occasional correspondence which had sprung from former association. The late Dr. Croswell, of Boston, when he was Editor of the Episcopal Watchman, formed a friendship for Dr. Sumner and his family, which was never interrupted, and which sparkled afresh on his last visit a few days before his death. The two eminent brothers who now preside over the Dioceses of Pennsylvania and New York; the Bishop of New Jersey; and the Rector of Calvary Church, New York, are amongst those who will recall many hours passed beneath that roof in delightful conference, and in social enjoyment; hours refined by christian intelligence, and overshadowed, as it were, by the fear of God; hours of which Croswell spoke as "amongst the dearest of departed joys." At the end of the year 1844, Dr. Sumner was deprived, by a sudden stroke, of the companion of his days and the light of his dwelling; one, so inexhaustibly rich in all warm and true affections that many could well understand how such a man as William Croswell, and not he alone, could name her "the truest-hearted friend in whom God ever allowed a sinful man like me to rejoice." The bereaved husband was not left alone; but surrounded by affectionate children and relatives, pursued his round of honorable usefulness, though with a maimed spirit. For the last few years his own health had declined, step by step; and patience had its perfect work, and hope its peaceful triumph. He drank the cup which his Father gave him, desiring to "be of the same mind which was in Christ Jesus;" and so in God's good time, fell asleep. His death took place on the morning of Tuesday the 20th of February, after he had reached the age of of sixty-one. If the just man here draws to himself such love,. what joy must await those who shall be joined forever to the assembly of just men made perfect! The Painter-Poet of Hartford-William Roderick Lawrence. A few rods from the State House square, in the beautiful city of Hartford, Connecticut, and on the corner of Maine and Pearl Streets, stands a large, three-story brick building, built many years since, ad known as the "Union Hall Building." The apper part of it is occupied as a place of worship, 1 that singular set of believers denominated "Spiritualists," or "Davisites." The second story is used for offices, and a suite of rooms occupied by Colonel Colt, the notable projector of revolving firearms, while the first story is used for stores. Entering the side entrance in Pearl Street, you go up a flight of stairs, and at the second right hand door you stop and read on a slate "W. R. LAWRENCE, STUDIO." You rap at the door, and a very pleasant looking, slight-built, classical featured young man greets you with a smile and bids you enter.The room is hung around with works of art tastefully arranged, paintings finished, unfinished, and just commenced-superb crayon heads-works of the young artist before you-beautifully executed and well worth the time you spend in examining them. On an easel midway the room stands an unfinished picture. A River scene-the artist's own native Connecticut, exquisitely colored. Near the window is a portrait of Henry W. Longfellow, said to be the best in the country, and was copied by our young artist several years since. Under it hangs a scriptural subject, "Moses on Mount Pisgah," a splendid chef d'œuvre of art. On a table a few feet from the door are piles of new books-and in the centre of it is a human skull to which is attached a rosary. On this table Mr. Lawrence usually writes his poetry and prose articles, many of which can be found in the most popular Magazines of the day, such as the Knickerbocker, Putnam, and the Ladies National. Various fugitive pieces appear from time to time in the numerous Journals of America. Mr. Lawrence is somewhat of an antiquarian.He has the largest collection of ancient coins in the Union-besides many curiosities from all parts of the world. His collection of autographs is among the most extensive in America. Mr. Lawrence was born in New York, but moved at an early age to Connecticut, which is now his permanent place of residence. He is a member of the National Academy of Design, and for several years has been chairman of the committee on fine arts in the Hartford County Agricultural Society. In figure, the painter-poet is slightly built-very erect-about medium stature-clear complexionwith brilliant black eyes and glossy hair. He is rather nervous in his temperament-very activepolite and agreeable in his manners. In the capacities of literature and the arts he ranks high. He is only twenty-two years of age, and has but within two or three years attracted the notice of the public. The literary labors of Mr. Lawrence commenced with the Excelsior, published some three years since in Hartford, and then the only literary paper in the State. Mr. Lawrence edited it some two years, when it was sold, since which time he has been connected with the Waverly Magazine. He has written some very interesting letters, one of which, “a Letter from an Artist, is contained in N. P. Willis' new book entitled the Idlewild Letters. Mr. Lawrence is the author of that beautiful song "Bessie Grey," published by Oliver Ditson of Boston. It appeared in the Home Journal a short time since. The following poem, which is highly praised, is now going the rounds of the papers. Mrs. Lydia H. Sigourney admired it greatly. It is entitled "Give me a Loving Heart:" sent him a magnificent breastpin-the head of one of the Ptolemies of Egypt, cut in Lava, and surrounded by twenty-two very brilliant diamonds, for a New Year's Gift. Quite a magnificent present! Surrounded by friends and prosperity, the painter-poet bids fair to become one of the most popular literary men of New England.-Waverly Magazine. A Young Hero. A sergeant-major, now in Washington barracks, who has recently returned from the Crimea, has sent us the following enthusiastic account of the conduct of a young soldier, only ten years old, named Thomas Keep, of the third battalion Grenadier Guards, under the command of Colonel Thomas Wood. The writer states that this boy accompanied the army to the heights of the Alma, preserving the most undaunted demeanor throughout the battle. At one time a twenty-four-pounder passed on each side of him, and shot and shell fell about him like hail, but notwithstanding the weariness of the day, present dangers, or the horrid sight, the poor boy's heart beat with tenderness towards the poor wounded. Instead of going into a tent to take care of himself after the battle was over, he refused to take rest, but was seen venturing his life for the good of his comrades in the battle field. This boy was seen carefully stepping over one dead body after another, collecting all the broken muskets he could find, and making a fire in the night to procure hot water. He made tea for the poor sufferers, and saved the life of Sergeant Russel, and some of the soldiers who were nearly exhausted for want. Thus did this youth spend the night. At the battle of Balaklava, he again assisted the wounded. The boy did his duty by day and worked in the trenches by night. He received one shot, which went through his coat and out at the leg of his trowsers, but Providence again preserved him unhurt. He helped with all the bravery of a man to get in the wounded, and rested not until the poor sufferers were made as comforable as he could make them. He waited on the Doctor while extracting the shot from the men, and waited on the men before and after. Thus did this youth,' says the writer, 'do any thing to any one who needed help. Some of the wounded say that they should not have been alive now, had it not been for this unwearied watchfulness in their hours of helplessness. This boy has been recommended by Colonol Robinson and Colonel Wood and others in her Majesty's service.'— London News, Feb. 26. NATURAL AND MECHANICAL POWER.-The amount of water power in the United States is greater than in any other country. Mechanical power is above all price, and yet the amount given out by inanimate matter that might be used is utterly incalculable. That which is ever running to waste in waterfalls and rapids is inconceivable great. It is within the range of possibilities that the ocean's resistless waves may eventually be used to aid in the propulsion of vessels, and to do other work, by compressing air into chambers opened to receive their impulse -that is, to employ them as rising and falling pistons, in inverted cylinders, for urging it into proper reservoirs. Then again, in fields and forests, what power is lost, though presented in forms more tangible and accessible than in waves. A plan is wanted for collecting it from swaying boles and branches: one possessing the properties of an alleged discovery of an old inventor, by which, in whatever directions the primum-mobile moved, up and down, sideways and every way, the desired result followed; a device which, working day and night, might accumulate power for planters and others while they slept. Trees, while in motion, give out more power in a windy day than would cut them down when at rest; and in all cases power proportioned to their magnitudes. Doubtless the idea of using such power will appear to many puerile and visionary; but for all that, it is practicable, and some day, if not in ours, will, we think, be turned to account. Farmers then will not neglect long swinging-levers radiating from poles around their homesteads, but make them serve as pumphandles for raising water for their families and cat tle, and for other purposes. Movable wind mills have at great expense been put to do what a single stout stem, or two or more united, could perform. |