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DOMESTIC TOPICS.

The letters we allude to speak of domestics,

male and female, who have lived in one and MISTRESSES AND SERVANTS.

the same family for a period of years, num. (Continued from Page 136.)

bering from five to forty. Their long service

has made them (very properly) part and IT CANNOT BE A MATTER FOR SURPRISE parcel of the household. They are treated that the remarks of our valued correspon- not only with respect, but with kindness and dent, “ FORESTIERA," in connection with our consideration. T'heir morals are cared for, own on this subject, should have brought their health and comfort are studied, and us an overwhelming number of communica- their happiness is secured. The natural tions. The evil we attempted to fathom, (let us harp upon this) consequence, is--that and for which we could propose no efficient duty becomes pleasure. The master, misremedy, is acknowledged from one end of tress, and family are loved, not feared. There the country to the other We live—not is but one interest in common. If the house for ourselves, but for our servants. We were left in charge of domestics so treated, are at least, to a fearful extent, in their it would be perfectly safe. No anxiety power.

need be occasioned even by a prolonged We took so complete a review of the re- absence. All this is the necessary conselative position existing between the mistress quence of kindness. and her servants in a former number of OUR Among our correspondents is a lady, JOURNAL, that we need not go over that residing some 200 miles from London, who ground again. The justness and fairness of signs herself “a Clergyman's Wife.” Her our observations has been universally ad- observations quite charın us; she regards mitted ; so that, if we were to give publicity the world as we do, made for the enjoyment to a tenth part of the letters received, it of all. She is no advocate for undue freewould burden our columns, without adding doms; believing, as we do, that servants one new fact. Yet have we a pleasing duty properly treated would know well how to to perform, and one for which we were behave themselves without requiring to be not altogether unprepared. Among the constantly reminded of it. The heart is mass of letters which have come to hand, what we want to work upon. That gained, are some which speak loudly, eloquently, every thing else becomes secondary. kindly-aye, and not a few affectionately, of We find in this letter of “a Clergyman's the domestics living in the families whose Wife" some very sensible remarks. She mistresses have addressed us.* Residing, quite agrees with us as to the danger of for the most part, far away from great cities, contact” where a servant is radically bad. and buried in the bosom of the country, She also fairly assumes that “contact," where people cannot understand what is said about

a servant is good, possesses equal power. the wickedness of servants generally: It “To the influence of our old and faithful appears incredible. This is a happy igno- servants,” she says, “ I attribute the comfort rance which we admire. It is most terrible,

we have had in the younger ones. If the to be compelled to believe what daily comes example thus set by the heads of the lower under our eye. Human nature shudders at house be so far beneficial in its result, how it; but we record facts as we find them. It much greater must the effect produced on is well known that an infected sheep will the younger servants be, by their observation spread contagion through a whole flock. of the manners and example of their master Equally true is it that evil-disposed servants, and mistress ? " This is sound argument. by constant contact, make each other as Again, "Do we not daily see the habits, bad as it is possible to be. With rare es- thoughts, and feelings of the parlor reflected ceptions, good and virtuous servants are in the kitchen; also the gait, bearing, dress, unknown in great cities and their vicinities. &c. of the different members of the family ? As we have before said, there is a menial A friend of mine observes, that she can chain that binds them together; by the aid generally tell the reception that awaits her in of which, as by an electric wire, they hold the drawing-room of any family, by the uninterrupted communication, and share

manner in which she is received by the largely in “ family secrets” which never domestics at the door." There is something could become publicly known excepting about this that pleases us vastly. We know through such a channel. We all know this it to be true. We have remarked it often. but too well; and yet are totally unable to

Our correspondent goes into some detail prevent it. But to return.

on these subjects; and the more we follow

her in her remarks, the more we admire the * As we have carried out the wishes of the moral feeling that actuates all she says. She writers, in this article, they will not feel aggrieved does not, as is the all-but-universal practice, by their favors not appearing in print. We have look down with supreme contempt upon all let one speak for the rest.-Ed. K.J.

who are of a rank inferior to her own. As

we

a responsible being, she evidently considers and visit several families wherein servants herself answerable for the well-being of her have lived happily for nearly thirty years ; household. Hers is a labor of love as well and there is every prospect of their keeping as duty. She asks, very pertinently, “ What their situations.* Their good-natured requalities are most sought after, by mistresses cognition of us is very gratifying. We read wanting servants ? Do they make any their thoughts in their happy, smiling couninquiry about their principles, or moral tenances ; and we take care to let them read aptitude for the places they are required to ours. Much do we pity those, whose scorn and till? Do they not rather ask,-if they have contempt trample under foot all these natural been used to gentility (dreadful word !) feelings. They are a numerous class truly; nice appearance, and good manners ? This and no doubt they ridicule our vulgar notions. generally, is all that is cared for.” Our But the censure of such men is praise. correspondent speake the simple truth. We have now, with all consistent brevity,

Our limited space forbids us to follow this attempted to do honor to the “ exceptions amiable “ Clergyman's Wife" through all her that have been brought before us, with excellent reasonings. It is evident that her reference to domestic servants. We have servants (seven in number), love and esteem received evidence that among the mass there her. She records many pleasing traits in are some excellent specimens of humanity: their respective characters, that interest us All honor be to them; and to the kind greatly, and we are quite willing to believe noble-hearted heads of families who have that in this country there are, as she saye, made them what they are, and who glory in many families equally blessed with good ser- setting their merits forth. vants. But, we ask, who and what made We may be severe, but let us ever be acthem good servants ? Was it not all brought counted just. about by kindness and consideration on the part of the family? The letters now before * Our memory pleasingly supplies instances us confirm the truth of our suspicion. If we not a few, when, about twenty-five years since, would set a good example, most assuredly things were much better ordered than they are that example would be followed ; and, as

now-ex. gr.

Well do we remember walking à necessary consequence, we should be over to breakfast (this we often did, for we beloved. “Beloved by a domestic!! were ever a very early riser) with a delightful hear some say; “how truly horrible !" family, at that time residing some ten miles Is it indeed? We cannot see it.

from town. Who was the first to anticipate

our arrival ? Polly." This kind-hearted doOne thing our country friends must bear mestic, when she opened the door to us, greeted in mind—and that is, the immeasurable dis- us with a smile that we shall never forget. tance which is preserved in London between Had this been wanting, we positively should families and their domestics. With few ex- not have felt “ happy.” Polly had lived in this ceptions, they are not considered as being family many years ; and she would most probably worthy of notice. Beyond the prescribed have died in their service, had not Cupid whisduties they are called upon to perform, pered in her ear (she was a pretty girl), nudged

her elbow, and suggested that two heads were nothing more is expected from them. If

better than one.'

The good-nature, too, with they are ill, there is no sympathy; if they which she would trip off to announce our arrivalare in trouble, there is no aid. They are this was refreshing after a long walk. How difrecognised as mere machines. They neither ferent are modern observances ! Matrimony, howcare for the fanıily they live with, nor the ever, changed neither her affection for her dear family for them. Hence, the never-ceasing mistress, sons, and daughters-nor did it abate, one changes, which the frightfully long list of jot, their kind concern for her welfare. On the conadvertisements in the Times newspaper con- trary, she was allowed to visit the house as usual; firms daily. We frequently encounter some of and was always received with the frank welcome these wandering adventurers, and wonder which true honesty and faithful zeal demand. This how and where they contrive to get places.

is one instance out of many which we feel pleased

to record. It reflects honor on that "happy For ourself, we are quite one of the old

family." school. We delight in being respected by to follow " Polly's " example.

It affords encouragement for others

Kindness made all who are associated with us, either in her a good servant; nor did she ever take adhigh or low degree. We could not be vantage of the position she held in the household. happy, and see the latter unhappy. We could not abound, and let them want. We

WHAT IS LOGIC? could not see them suffer from illness, and fail to inquire how they fared from day to day (high treason this l); neither could we instruments

, and many more that are superfluous.

Logic is a large drawer; containing some useful dare to spurn them as creatures beneath our But a wise man will look into it for two purposesnotice. Oh, no! such disgusting, unjustifi- to avail himself of those instruments that are really able pride reigns not in our breast.

useful, and to admire the ingenuity with which As regards our own observation, we know those that are not so are assorted and arranged.

TO ZILLAH.

that is all. They can make no impression

on iron and stone. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE NECKLACE."

Let us, however, again

listen to what the Countess has further to say Maiden! by that peerless brow,

about our dressmakers, Our readers have Where love has sealed his frequent vow,

hearts -80 we'll e'en draw our bow at a By the memory of the past,

venture :And the rose-wreaths round it cast

What shall I say about our dressmakers and Sever not Love's sunny chain,

plain work-women? Do they not require some Give me back that smile again!

little fresh air to recruit their exhausted frames ? By those dove-like eyes of blue,

Yes, they do; but they are of course denied it! By that breast's transparent hue,

Oh! would the high and noble dames, for

the adornment of whose persons these poor By each light and waving tress Whose golden curls thy bosom press, –

creatures toil through the weary day, and not By that cheek where mine has lain,

unfrequently through the long night, but reflect Give me back that smile again!

at how dear a price the graceful robe that displays

the elegance of their forms so well, is obtained! By each deep and burning line

They would then, let us hope, combine together, That wooed and won that heart of thine,

and resolve to use their all-powerful influence By those secret feelings knownı,

to change a system intro luced through the In all their depths, to thee alone,

desire of meeting the unreasonable demands for By all of pleasure, all of pain,

dresses to be madle up at notices too short to Give me back that smile again!

admit of their being finished, except by the sa

crifice of the sleep of those who work at them. By those vanished hours of love,

Could they behold the heavy eyes, the pallid By all that woman's heart can move,

cheeks, the attenuated frames, and care-worn By all that glist'ning eye may tell

,

brows of the poor workers on the robes to be of thoughts within its crystal cell ;

made in a few hours, their consciences surely By every joy in pleasure's train,

would be lightened of the weight of their having, Give me back that smile again!

for the gratification of their vanity, exacted that

which could only be accomplished at so heavy By the flow'r'ts that once were mine,

a penalty to the maker. By the tress that once was thine,

All English women are not unfeeling—they are By those lips whose honied kiss

only sometimes forgetful. The fair creature whose Clung to mine in murm'ring Uliss,

delicate throat is encircled by Oriental pearls, By all that love may yet retain,

thinks not of the risk of those who dive beneath Give me back that smile again.

the wave to seize the costly gems. Could she but Maiden! well thou know'st to me

witness the operation, how would she tremble ! Thou wert as dew upon life's tree,

nay, we are not sure that even the warmest adThe bud of promise to my heart,

mirer of pearls would not thenceforth abjure them. The spring whose waters reached each part.- robes, they reflect not on the weary hours of toil

So, when ladies see themselves attired in becoming And wouldst thou make the past all vain ?

the manufacture of them has occasioned. If they No-give me back that smile again!

did, and we earnestly hope they will, they would

soon do all in their power to lighten the labor, THE DRESSMAKERS OF LONDON,

and to ameliorate the condition, of the dressmaker.

The heart that uttered these sentiments THERE ARE but few of us who are un- was an amiable one. But it was a heart that versed in the nature and occupation of this knew little of human nature. Not even an large class of industrious bees, who toil so angel from Heaven-unless commissioned by in their badly ventilated hives to minister to the God of angels, could ever work upon the the caprices of women of fashion. Neither are better feelings of a woman of fashion. Why? we ignorant of the low rate of remuneration Simply because they have no heart. They they receive,nor of the indirect meanswhereby consider the world, and all that is in it, to be they are compelled to obtain a livelihood theirs by right; and no argument could many of them having sick parents to support, loosen that idea. and brothers and sisters looking up to them for bread. Of late this subject has been

EARLY RISING. debated; but we fear little good has resulted from it. People of fashion have no heart, If you would be happy," quit the pillow at and would consider it infra dig. to lend an day-break. Then, if ever, are the thoughts pure ear to cries of distress proceeding from a and holy ; and the mind is open to soft, amiable dressmaker-the vulgar wretch!

impressions. The country is so calmly beautiful In our First VOLUME, we quoted some

in the morning, that it seems rather to belong to

the world of dreams which we have just quittedremarks of the Countess of Blessington on

to be some paradise which suffering care cannot the subject, which did honor to her heart and enter-than to form a portion of a busy and anxious to her pen. But alas ! her words, like ours, world, in which even the very flowers must share may be read by the votaries of fashion, and in decay and death.

*

as

blues ;

BEAUTY

What is more lovely than the babe at rest ?

Lying in cherub-laughter, loosely dress'd, UNDER THIS EXPRESSIVE TITLE has th Within its curtain'd cradle, fair and soft, author of “Silent Love”--the best of all With little dimpled fingers spread aloft,

As if it stretched those rounded, dimpled arms, loves -produced a poem.” Clad in a neat and modest garb, it sings eloquently and All yet unspotted by disease or care ;-.

Enraptured by some unseen angel's charms, sweetly of the goddess in whose praises we Sweet Innocence ! how beautiful and fair! would all gladly join; for “ Beauty” is everywhere.

All things are beautiful! Children at play, We imagine the author to be young. We 'Mid garden-grounds, where sparkling waters will therefore kindly give him a passing stray ; hint, to revise carefully everything he Where bees and butterflies companions seem, commits to paper before it sees the light of Sporting together in the summer beam ; day. At page 40, he speaks of Adam's Laughing and leaping, under shady trees, helpmate, Eve, being “sculptured” by his Or lying on the earth in full-length'd ease; Lord. This implies effort, and is therefore The stately Bowers that decorate the ground !

Or chasing young companions round and round incorrect as unpoetical. A slight revision will set this and other little matters O, joyous childhood, unsuspicious, fair, straight in a future edition. We subjoio Stranger to ennui, heartlessness, and care : one or two random extracts.

What all the fears of life to such as thee?

The world is yet a marvellous mystery! ALL THINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL! 'Tis bliss to see

No vanish'd hopes, no wild, ambitious schemes ;

No spectral horrors haunt thy midnight dreams; A living landscape with a canvass free !

No dread of waking, ere the dawn of day,
No stinted laws, no trite artistic rule,
No science learnt in wisdom's wisest school;

To grief, bereavements, troubles, or dismay ! God is the painter, rainbow-tints the hues

The moral of this book is excellent, and That give the lights and spread the distant the author's aim deserves our warmest While towers and trees their perfect shadows world happy, and he has done his best to

He would have all the

commendation. give, And thus the dioramic pictures live !

make them so. We wander 'mong the wild umbrageous woods,

'TIS TWENTY YEARS SINCE !
Threading our path among their solitudes-
The grass beneath our feet is full of life ;
Myriads of insects, in harmonious strife,

THERE ARE SOME quaint remarks in one Fulfil their little errand on the earth

of James's novels, that please us vastly. More punctually than man of lordly birth,

There is so much truth in them! Rearing great cities with more care and skill Whilst speaking about dates and disThan architect e'er did, or ever will!

tances, he says:We launch our yacht and sail the sparkling lake ; A frequent question with us is, “How long is What varied feelings in our breasts awake!

The reply should be, in many cases, The fluttering sails above, the waves below, "Oh, a long while; long enough for young men The heath-clad mountains moving as we go! to grow old, and for old men to wither and rot. The fairy islands pebbled round and round, Some twenty years ago or more. Lack-a-day, Like little floating worlds of hallowed ground; how few twenties there are in life! Twenty and The sporting lambkins bleating on the hill, twenty are forty, and twenty are sixty; how few And grandeur all around supinely still !

see the fourth twenty! Who sees the fifth ?

The first begins in the infant, with a passion A ship, by gentle breezes onward led

for milk-all mouth and no wit-and ends in the With all her snow-white canvass proudly spread youth with a love for sweet ankles and for cherry Gracefully bending on the swelling sea, lips ; all hearts and no brains. The second starts With pennon waving from her topmast free,

on his course like a swallow catching insects, Is surely Beauty. As she glides along

and ends like a slongh-hound upon the track of a Perhaps we hear the stalwart sailor's song; deer: ambition flies before and distances him still, But while upon the beach we fondly stray,

Then begins another twenty, with the hard brain, Both song and vessel, dream-like, melt away! and the hard heart; your man of manifold expeNow turn we to the scenes in busy life

riences, who finds no pleasure in pippins, and is Man elbowing man, amid the anxious strife ;

mailed against the dart of a dark eye. He must The feverish eye, the half-exhausted frame,

have solid goods, forsooth, and so chooses gold, In gathering gold, to earn a transient name;

which will not decay; but, good faith, it matters This too, when age and riches bear them down ; little whether it be the possession which decays, 0! why has man so avaricious grown ?

or the possessor,--whether the gilded coin rots, or E'en while they count their idol, beauteous gold: the fingers that clutch it: the two part company Death calls and lays them senseless in the mould. all the same. Then comes the fourth twenty,

often begun, and seldom ended; and we go creeping backward, as if we would fain run away

it ago?

*

PAINT

IT!"

from the other end of life ; toys please us, straws the smile that bewilders you, and have offend us . we stumble at the same mole hills that power over the expression of a face, that, tripped up our infancy,

meet you where it will, laps you in Ely. Time rubs off from the score of memory what sium ! Make me a painter, Pythagoras ! experience had written; and when the sorrow

A lover's picture of his mistress, painted ful soft gums have eaten their second pap, death takes us sleepy up, and puts us quietly to bed. It

as she exists in his fancy, would never be rewas twenty years ago, good youth, aye, that it cognised. He would make little of features was, -and twenty years is one of those strange and complexion. No, no—he has not been jumps that are more wisely taken backwards than an idolator for this. He has seen her as no forwards.

one else has seen her, with the illumination

of love, which, once in her life, makes every When we read the foregoing, and call to woman under heaven an angel of light. He mind what we see passing around us day knows her heart, too—its gentleness, its after day, we think gleefully of our early fervor; and when she comes up in his imagidays, mournfully of our middle age, and nation, it is not her visible form passing bethoughtfully of what lies before us. Life is a fore his mind's eye, but the apparition of her dream,-Death a reality.

invisible virtues, clothed in the tender recollections of their discovery and development.

If he remembers her features at all, it is the THE PAINTER'S REVELATION. changing color of her cheek, or the droop of

her curved lashes, or the witchery of the “I CANNOT

smile that welcomed him. And even then

EXCLAIMED DUNCAN Weir, the artist, as he threw down he was intoxicated with her voice-always a his pencil in despair.

sweet instrument when the heart plays upon The portrait of a beautiful female rested it—and his eyes were good for nothing. No on his easel. The head was turned as if to

—it is no matter what she may be to others look into the painter's face, and an express fect being, and he would as soon paint St.

-she appears to him to be a bright and per sion of delicious confidence and love was playing about the half-parted mouth. A Cecilia with a wart, as his mistress with an mass of luxuriant hair, stirred by the posi- imperfect feature. tion, threw its shadow upon a shoulder that, Duncan could not satisfy himself. He but for its transparency, you would have painted with his heart on fire, and he given to Itys; and the light from which the threw by canvass after canvass till his room face turned away, fell on the polished throat was like a gallery of angels. In perfect with the rich mellowness of a moon-beam. despair, at last, he sat down and made a de. She was a brunette-her hair of a glossy liberate copy of her features—the exquisite black, and the blood melting through the picture of which we have spoken. Still the clear brown of her cheek, and sleeping in eye haunted him. He felt as if he would her lip, like color in the edge of a rose. redeem all, if he could give it the expresThe eye was unfinished. He could not paint sion with wbich it looked back some of it. Her low, expressive forehead, and the his impaesioned declarations. His skill light pencil of her eyebrows, and the long, however was, as yet, baffled ; and it was melancholy lashes were all perfect; but he at the close of the third day of unsucceshad painted the eye a hundred times, and ful effort, that he relinquished it in despair, a hundred times hé had destroyed it, till at and dropping his head upon his easel, the close of a long day, as his light failed abandoned himself to his imagination. him, he threw down his pencil in despair, Duncan entered the gallery with Helen and resting his head on his easel, gave leaning on his arm. It was thronged with himself up to the contemplation of the visitors. Groups were collected before the ideal picture of his fancy.

favored pictures, and the low hum of criticism We wish all our readers had painted a rose confusedly, varied now and then by the portrait, the portrait of the face they best exclamation of some enthusiastic spectator. love to look on-it would be such a chance in a conspicuous part of the room hung, to thrill them with a description of the “The Mute Reply, by Duncan Weir.” A painter's feelings! There is nothing but the crowd had gathered before it, and were first timid kiss that has half its delirium. gazing on it with evident pleasure. Expres. Why—think of it a moment! To sit for sions of surprise and admiration broke frehours, gazing into the eyes you dream of! quently from the group, and as they fell on To be set to steal away the tint of the the ear of Duncan, he felt an irresistible imlip, and the glory of the brow you wor- pulse to approach and look at his own ship! To have beauty come and sit down picture. What is like the affection of a before you, till its spirit is breathed into painter for the offspring of his genius! It your fancy, and you can turn away and seemed to him as if he had never before seen paint it! To call up, like a rash enchanter, it. There it hung like a new picture, and

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