A

corsage and sleeves are edged with a bordering of alone can bestow. We saw, at her show-room, a few A PLEASANT SUMMER RETREAT. blue embroidery, like that on the flounces. Over days since, a fancy straw, imported by Wild, 22 this corsage is worn a black lace canezou. It is John street, one of the most perfect gems of the sea- T this season of the year, when it is fashionable composed of alternate rows of Maltese insertion son. The front was edged with straw blonde, fine to be migratory, many of our readers are probaand narrow black figured ribbon; or instead of rib- as Brussels point, and purely white, as if spun from bly casting about for something a little fresh and bon, rows of black velvet may be employed. The pearls retaining all their lustre and beauty. Another novel in the way of a watering-place, wearied in basque, the sleeves, and the top of the canezou are row of this superb lace, mingled with straw em- thought, no doubt, at the prospect of a dull repetiedged with Maltese lace, having small Vandyke broidery, crossed the front and edged the curtain. tion of the last season at Newport or Saratoga. points. Leghorn bonnet, ornamented on one side Tulle was mingled richly in the composition of this Shall we help them a little to a decision? Set in with a small plume of white ostrich feathers. Un-elegant capote, and clusters of purple and white moss the frame-work of one of our ample pages they have der-trimming, a cap of white blonde, intermingled roses formed a superb lining. Inside the bonnet was doubtless discovered a very prettily executed view with sprigs of peach blossom. Strings of broad trimmed with blonde, white bows, and moss rose of a pleasant-looking structure, the "Equinox white sarsenet ribbon, edged with a stripe of peach | buds. House," of Manchester, Vermont. If the reader blossom. Over this dress may be worn for the We saw another charming bonnet at this estab- desires a breath of vigorous mountain air,—if he is carriage drive, a small circular mantelet of violet-lishment. It was of pink crape, having three ruches fond of a ramble amid scenes of wild grandeur and colored glacé, trimmed with a broad sewing silk of pink tulle edged with narrow white blonde, one sublimity,-if he is fond of fishing, boating, driving, fringe of black and velvet in alternate stripes. on the edge, one across the middle, and another back riding, hunting, musing, reading, clambering, swimAbove the fringe, rows of narrow black velvet. of the crown. The crown and curtain were orna-ming, and not to forget eating,-if he hates imWe may mention that canezous, in the style of mented with yellow froncé, and the interior was mense white hotels, with all their sound and fury, those above described are at present highly fashion-trimmed with crape and white roses. with their big pianos and small bed-rooms, their able in demi-evening dress; and they are made We saw a white bonnet at Miss Jarvis, 72 Canal interminable dining-rooms, with the clashing dishes, cither in black or white lace. street, that well deserves a description. The mate-flashing knives, and the frightful confusion of a Another morning visiting dress is of light fawn-rial was snowy crape. The front and curtain are thousand hungry individuals and a wilderness of colored silk, without flowers, but with three broad surrounded with full ruches of tuile, edged with waiters,-if he hates their arbitrary laws of the stripes running around the skirt, with a running blonde. Two falls of rich bionde fall back over the toilet, their hot summer balls, their dusty drives, pattern between, of rich silk embroidery. This is crown, mingled at the sides with clusters of hearts- their displays of pompous and gilt vulgarity,—if something now, and we do not remember a novelty case. The inside trimming is wildflowers, grouped the reader's likes and dislikes are like to these, then that exceeds it in richness. A mantelet of black with blonde. the "Equinox" should receive the deciding voice taffeta, trimmed profusely with guipure lace, and a Another bonnet, made of blue crape, striped length-at once. He will find here genuine comfort, rooms tulle bonnet, trimmed with moss roses, completes wise with folds of blue ribbon, won our admiration the dress. at Miss Jarvis. A knot, with long bows of ribbon, We have seen a ball dress at Madame Demarest's almost crowded upon the full blonde ruche that surdress-making and pattern establishment, 375 Broad-rounded the front, and another bow of ribbon divides way, that pleased us very much indeed. It is the crown from the curtain. The inside trimming intended for a young lady. The triple skirts of of this graceful capote was pink moss rosebuds, white India muslin are edged with a delicate pat- blonde, and a cluster of white wild roses on each tern designed in blue. The body is cut low in side. front, and on the shoulders, forming a beautiful heart-slope that is completely covered with rows of Valenciennes lace. A bow of blue ribbon is placed in front of the corsage, which has a sharp pointed bodice. Two or three rows of lace compose the sleeves, and the trimmings of the front descend behind in the form of a pointed berthe. A blue ribbon passes through the bandaux of the hair, and clusters of flowers are placed low down on each side of the back hair.

BONNETS

Are now scarcely more substantial than a cap was some few years ago. Nothing can be too light for the taste this summer; even the richer qualities of lace are put aside for lise tulle, and blonde, while flowers were never made with such delicate lightness as we find them in the recent importations.

roses

Scaman, the fashionable importer of these articles, at 6 John street, has lately received some from Paris, that exceed anything of the kind we ever saw; no thicket in the morning sun ever held its dew more naturally than it is found trembling among the snowy leaves of a white wreath we were allowed to examine.

With such materials as we have described, these exquisite flowers are perfect, and on a pretty tulle bonnet they seem still half lost in the sweet morning mists natural to them.

Mrs. Cripps, 111 Canal street, has got some charming novelties this month; indeed her bonnets are always rich with that novelty an inventive genius

For ladies who wear curls of hair, the inside trimming is put on higher up, and in much less quantity. The curls filling up the space around the cheeks.

TREASURES.

LET me count my treasures,

All my soul holds dear,
Given me by dark spirits

Whom I used to fear.
Through long days of anguish,
And sad nights, did Pain
Forge my shield, Endurance,
Bright and free from stain.
Doubt, in misty caverns,
'Mid dark horrors sought,
Till my peerless jewel,
Faith, to me she brought.
Sorrow (that I wearied

Should remain so long),
Wreathed my starry glory,
The bright crown of Song!
Strife, that racked my spirit
Without hope or rest,
Left the blooming flower,
Patience, on my breast.
Suffering, that I dreaded,
Ignorant of her charms,
Laid the fair child, Pity,
Smiling in my arms.

So I count my treasures,
Stored in days long past,
And I thank the givers,
Whom I know at last

luxuriously furnished, a table replete with every luxury, the attention of a polite host, with magnificent scenery, and exhilirating mountain air, all of which would contribute to make it a delightful place of resort.

* * *

EDGAR ALLAN POE.-To see the portrait of Poo is enough to understand the life of the unhappy poet, and consequently to excuse it. The forehead is ill-proportioned, fantastic, sickly, like that of Hoffmann; the lower part of the face is weak and undecided Byron says somewhere of Sheridan, "He had the brow of a god and the mouth of a satyr!" Poe had the brow of a god and the mouth of Silenus. We see from the configuration of his lips, that he was born to drink; but the intelligence which beams from the brain, reveals that in his thoughts intoxication was only a means to an end, to repose. Poe is to be classed among the fantastic poets of the third rank who, nct being able to rise to power, content themselves with being eccentric. Preoccupied with one constant idea, that of the miseries of human life, he expresses it under the form of broken-hearted love. The soul is haunted by a sad memory, and that manly strength is lost which overcomes the fatal world of tears, and leaves the brain free to exercise its faculties. Fantastic images which recall one only recollection, one only emotion, play in the sighs of the breeze, in the murmurs of the complaining waters; while beneath the mists and clouds, there yawn abysses where the eye of the poet incessantly discovers the same phantasm; and if the mind, overwhelmed, returns to the earth, it is but to behold the hungry worm crawling toward the already excavated grave. Such is Poe and such his genius.

Life is a masquerade; there is scarcely any person or class of persons who appear in their true character.

TETE-A-TETE,

WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

THE

was Uncle Robert, and not gifted with a keen insight
into matters and things.

“‘Billy,' said he one day, to a friend who had
dropped in to take a smoke with him-Billy, they've
bin and 'lected me to an office in the church.'
"Well, Uncle Bob, what is it?'
"Brier!'

"Brier? Why, what do you mean?'
"Brier!' repeated he.

HE reader has undoubtedly already admired the beautiful frontispiece illustration that accompanies this issue of the "Journal," called "Haymaking." A most exquisite rural picture, we are sure he says, and full of pleasant associations and suggestive of old scenes. It brings to our mind "I guess you mean Elder, Uncle Bob.' many a rare haymaking frolic, when young and old, "Elder! Elder! that's it,' said he, brightening maids and males, all assembled in the meadow to up. I thought it was something green!"" join in the pleasant toil. Such bursts of merriment, HERE is a passage from Shakspeare, such exulting shouts, such a mingling of glad voices, worth to the reforming devotee of pleasure or crime such free and light hearts, such flashings of humor a thousand of the patronising didacticisms of the and scintillations of wit, such complete and unal- Pharisees, who are "holier" than every other one loyed happiness as often we have experienced on they meet. There is genuine philosophy in it, and these rustic festival occasions-how it all comes therefore all the more encouragement :rushing back upon our minds! Ah, golden, golden time! If the spirit of poetry was only a little more deeply imbrued in the hearts of our country people, they would get up some kind of poetic ovation to usher in this most delightful season—a festival, say, in honor of Ceres, after the manner of those to

Bacchus in the olden time of Greece. But as it is,
Haymaking with us is a kind of acted practical
poem, abounding in graces and delights peculiarly
its own. Hear what Thomson, whose rural pic-
res are so exquisite, and so unmatched-hear how
he describes it :-

"Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead;
The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil,
Healthful and strong; full as the summer rose
Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid,
Half naked, swelling in the sight, and all
Her kindling graces burning o'er her cheek.
Ee'n stooping age is here: and infant hands
Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load
O'ercharged, amid the kind oppression roll.
Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row
Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field,
They spread the breathing harvest to the sun,
That throws so refreshful a rural smell:
Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground,
And drive the dusky wave along the mead,
The russet hay-cock rises thick behind,
In order gay. While heard from dale to dale.
Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice
Of happy labor, love, and social glee."

"And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off."

"I HAVE found," writes a friend from
a town not far from our city, "I have found here a
veritable Mrs. Malaprop-I may say two Mrs. Mala-
props, in the persons of a lady and her daughter. I
must be cautious about my description of them, for
I believe that they are readers of the "Journal,"
and might possibly recognise themselves, as in a
glass, darkly.' But some of their amusing blun-
ders, in an over ambition for big words, are too rich
to be lost to the world. If Sheridan had only met
them the vocabulary of Mrs. Malaprop aforesaid
would have been enriched.

“Upon another occasion, I was gravely informed by the young lady that her brother was in the navy, who had written home all the 'minit' particulars of the voyage, and stated that they were without ammition! Good breeding of course suppressed a laugh, but it was only accomplished by the penalty of a fit of coughing.

"We also have been entertained with the particulars of a 'penurious circumstance,' and of a 'Post tortem examination.'

A LETTER from a lady which we are impelled to give in full:

"My Dear Mr. Editor:-I am an unfortunate woman

very! I am the victim of an evil that pursues me with an inveterate malignancy, and won't let up." There is no use of trying any longer to bear up against my sufferings in silence; and so I won't. You see, sir, I have a constitutional antipathy to tobacco. I can't endure it. It is the bane of my life. Under its influence I have no pleasure in the world-not a bit. Tobacco has spread over the world, and darkened it everywhere; I can't get away from it nohow, If I walk down Broadway, some one is sure to get just before me, and puff, puff every moment comes a cloud of smoke into my eyes, mouth, nose, and lungs. It would be no use to walk slower or fister, because I would be sure to encounter similar creatures. Whatever way I move I find mysel. doomed to endure that horrid tobacco. I can't go to public places because there is such an eternal chew kept up. When go to our church-Rev. Mr. S.'s, and mamma says he is so nice a man-there comes directly into our pew an old gentleman in green spectacles who chews-vociferously! His breath is as strong as a lion. I'm not sure that's the right kind of comparison but mamma says it will do. Well, sir, he's very deaf, and often asks me to find the place for him, which I do; but he always puts his head close to mine, and that makes me so sick that I almost faint. And then, again, when I go to Wallack's (dear, delightful place), and am sitting so engrossed in the play, chew, chew, chew, squirt, squirt, squirt, goes somebody near me; and when I go to move, splash goes my flounces into the nasty puddle the felgather into one pile all that remains of it upon the surface of low has been making. O that tobacco: If I could only the globe, there would be one bonfire in the world, let me tell you that. Now, dear Mr. Editor, but think of it! Isn't it horrible? And what am I to do? Is there no hope for me? Is there no alleviation of the miseries of a wretched woman? me into my grave. Ah sir, the only thing I can find of the Alas! I despair of having any peace. Tobacco will haunt vaunted superiority of your sex is bad breath. If I were asked the main pursuit of man, I would say-chewing! If I were asked his manifest destiny, I would say-smoke! From your indignant and abused friend,

JULIA.

We sorrow for Julia, heartily, and not only for Julia but for all of her sex, and of our own who are the sufferers by the universality of this certainly unaccountable indulgence. Perhaps, however, if the ladies were generally outspoken on this matter, they might accomplish a little towards its abatement.

Mr. PEPPERS, a very worthy citizen of the village over at the hollow, back of the hill, wants to know what is the "extra vally" of a Bond with a coop on. He says he thinks he understands what a bond is, for he's tried bail-bonds already; but this "new-fangled plan of attachin' coops on 'em,"-that's something he can't seem to get through his brain!-Cannot some of our Wall street friends help him out of his perplexity?"

"WHAT d'ye call that?" asked one very

THE issue of this number of the " Journal" will occur in the midst of all the pomp and circumstance of preparation for the coming great Na- "But the richest of all is the following:-The tional Jubilee. It is an excellent thing to have one young lady, rather sentimentally inclined, and fond general National festivity. Sectional bitterness, of the 'Poet's Corner' in the country gazette, inparty animosities, factional contentions, are all soft-formed me, upon returning from a ramble, that she ened and subdued under its influence. Heartily had been walking in the woods to commute with plain-minded man of another, as a stranger went by therefore, we say, Hail, all hail," Gloroius Fourth!" her thoughts.' This was too much. There was a Your booming cannons, your squibs, your rockets, your general noise and fury, which strike so fearfully on the sensitive tympanums of some, are to us (for the day being) what the whizzing of bullets was to Charles XII.-music. We like to see powder burning away freely on that day, for somehow powder always smells like patriotism. We like to have drums and trumpets braying, flags flaunting, music pealing, and all such other demonstrations, that assist in giving a spirited animation, and lively exultation to the day.

limit to my endurance. My risibilities would not
be controlled, and I burst out with an uproarous
peal of laughter. The lady stared, but I was bound
to have my laugh out."

A SWEET and touching stanza, reader:-
"There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair;
There is no fold howe'er watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there."

WALKING up Broadway the other day "UNCLE ROBERT J," writes "a we met an Irish Benevolent Society returning from reader" from up the river, "was a character, well a funeral with the band playing Rory O'Moore. known for his oddities. Somewhat ignorant, too, Such is life.

with an immense growth of hair on his upper lip. "What do I call it? Why, don't you see for yourself? You've heerd o' fur-belows, hain't you? Wal, that's one on 'em, as near as I can guess!" Could the moustache movement be better entitled than as the introduction of the fur-below system?

A VERY distant connection of Mrs. Partington writes her from away back somewhere, to know "if what folks call now-days frankin-cense is any better than the real old stuff called commonsense. Mrs. P. is in a quandary over the matter; but she proposes to cut the gordian knot by sending back word, that "it's all non-sense, any how;" and wants to ask back if she saw the collapse of the sun, last May!

woman

An old woman down east somewhere, HERE is an admirable statement sent to happened to hear that the husband of another us by a friend, which we think will get from the had hung himself; and that he had reader at least one hearty laugh: "It was during performed this ticklish operation from the bough of the general talk and excitement that prevailed on an apple tree in his orchard. So off she set post- the passage of what are politically known as the haste, to see the bereaved one. She found her in Compromise Measures of 1850, that an old and none fears, and a suit of sable, of course. "Now," said too well posted landlord in one of the back settleshe, "I've come a-purpose to get some o' the fruit ments was giving much of his attention to the proof that tree; for as sure as a gun, I'll plant the seedfitableness of raising onions as a standard crop from in the garding behind my own door! My husband his little patch of land. So taking up the paper one is the greatest plague of my life; but, anind now, I day, his mind on the look-out for anything that bore don't say I want to git him out o' the way; I only on the subject in hand, he happened to glance at the want to plant some of the seed from that apple-tree! column headed in flaming capitalsIf he hang himself, that's his own business. All I want is one o' them same kind o'-trees!" She car

"GREAT UNION MEETING," &c., &c.

ried away an apple,—an Eve in a new and unfamiliar This was enough for him. He saw the time and

form.

SOME of our county towns are not very democratic, judging from the following anecdote, which a New England correspondent encloses to us: "A worthy member of a rural community, who had the great misfortune to lose his wife, certainly one of the most consistent and exemplary women in the church of which both were members, went to the minister of the parish to ask him if he would per

form the funeral solemnities at the church. The minister seemed utterly confounded with surprise. 'Go to the church!' he exclaimed; I never should think of such a thing! Why, we couldn't pay any more respect to the memory of Deacon Leathers himself! So that question was settled, and an important one, too,"

REALLY there is too much humor in the following "sentimental ode" to let pass, so we out with our scissors and pirate it, for your sake reader ;

Is thine a heart oppress'd by care,
And dost thou seek relief?

I know a remedy so rare ;
It is a slice of Beef!

place of the meeting, dropped his paper in his lap,
and exclaimed--" Great U-n-i-o-n Meeting! Yes,
by gracious, father! that's the way I spell Onion!
I'm off for that meeting, I tell you!"—and like
Israel Putnam of old, he saddled and bridled his cob,
without giving further notice to his family, and rode
off post-haste to attend the numerous gathering.
Whether he was much enlightened there on the
subject of raising onions, we never were fortunate
enough to hear These politicians will never know,
however, how much they have, first and last, to
answer for."

"THE British Quarterly" in discussing
the Whisker philosophically, politically, and socially,
thus indulges in a humourous vein :—

"The mutton-chop seems to have suggested the form of a substantial British whisker. Out of this simple form countless varieties have arisen; one has whiskers turned into the corners of his mouth, as if he were holding them up with his teeth, the second has wandered into the middle of the cheek, and there stopped as though it did not know where to go, like a youth who has ventured out into the middle of a ball-room with all eyes upon him; another twists the contrary way, under the owners ears; another, with a vast Pacific of a face, has little whiskers, which seem to have stopped short after two inches of voyage, as though aghast at the prospect of having to turn such a Cape Horn of a chin. We perceive coming a tremendous pair, running over the shirt-collar, in luxurant profusion; yet we see, as the colonel or general takes off his hat to a lady, that he is quite bald--those whiskers are, in fact, nothing but a tremendous landslip from the veteran's head."

We find in an English magazine the fol lowing beautiful lines "To a Snowdrop." They may be considered somewhat out of season now, but they are so exquisitly and pathetically beautiful that we cannot resist the temptation to repeat them to you, reader.

so?

"SNOWDROP, Snowdrop, why dost thou stay?
Greybeard Winter hath fled away-
Green grow the fields in the sunny ray-
Snowdrop, Snowdrop, why dost thou stay?
'Just to see-oh! just to see,

יין

The first pretty primrose of the lea!
For a primsose star is fairer far,
I've been told, than all sky-blossoms are.
Oh! tend me well, and show me where
I may find this beauty past compare
Snowdrop, Snowdrop, look this way-
In the grasses, underneath the grey
Old oak, behold the primrose gay!
Primrose, Primrose a moment's space
Let little Snowdrop see your face!
'I see, I see, on the upland lea,
A sweet face smiling tenderly-
O pretty Primrose. lovest thou me ?
Oh! love me! let my prayer prevail!
I shall live, I shall thrive, I shall not fail,
Though I look so weary, and weak, and pale-
Oh! love me, and I shall live to sec
The blossoming almond and apple tree,
And the May bloom wooed by the honey-bco!
What doth she say, oh! what doth she say?
Will she love me well, the Primrose gay?,
Now nay, now nay! the Primrose gay
Hath given, she voweth, her love away;
Troth-bound is she to the Violet,

And, oh poor Snowdrop, never was yet
A flower so modest, and fresh, and fair,
As the Violet, dowered with odours rare.
Die. Snowdrop, die, ere the bridal day-
No love for thee hath the Primrose gay!
'I die, I die! it was always so-

Poor weeds, unspringing in winter's snow,
Lonely, so lonely! vexed and worn

By the bitter blasts, we live forlorn;

There is nought that loveth us 'neath the sky-
It was always so-I die, I die!""

Tender, pathetic, full of beauty! don't you think

IT is thought that France, in a war with England, would stand a very fair chance to come out first from the tussle; for if you will but take a map of each of the two countries, and examine them closely, you will see in a moment that the map of France has much the most bay-on-it (bayonet).

"I CALLED Upon a precious little niece of mine, only four years old,” said a lady to us the other day, "and was much amused by the following little incident. She was a very accomplished reader for her age, and she read some passages to me as evidences A WAG went a'ong one of our thoroughof her ability. Presently her mother called her fares the other day, in company with a friend. from some romping sport in which she was engaged, They came to a millinery and dress-making estaband asked her to read Willis's beautiful sacred poem lishment, at the door of which, stuck under a glitterof Absolom.' 'No mamma,' replied she, I would ing glass case, was a new style of ladies dress rather not read it now. It is too sacred!" This known in the proper circles by the name of the from a little four year old! basquin. "There it is!" said the man of nonsense; "there you have it now! A real, regular baskin' in the sun,' as sure's I am alive!"—And so it

·

A MAN who was notorious for the
healthy and safe size of his understandings, went to
a shoemaker, once upon a time, to get newly shod.
The worthy son of Crispin saw him trying to come
in at the door, though his efforts were vain, and
called out to him-"What will you have, sir?"
Have! I want to get a pair of boots made."
"Oh, well then, don't try to come in here, for you
A CORRESPONDENT tells a story of an
can't do it, possibly. Just step round the corner of old lady who, when her son was reading of the
the building, and you shall have your foot measured. movements of the Legislature, burst out suddenly
The fact is, sir, we shall be obliged to build a boot
over your foot; haint got no last that would come
anywhere near it !"

A CLEVER correspondent writes us to
know," if a cooking apparatus is known by the
name of a kitchen range, why are not all professed was.
cooks capable of forming a company, and styling
themselves the kitchen rangers?" We don't know;
we're sure we don't.

with the exclamation,-" Ander, Ander, is the
Legislature a kwered carriage or not?" That old
lady was undoubtedly near of kin to Mrs. Partington.

·

THE same man who sent his Porter apples to the cider-mill, expecting bottling Porter as the result, calculates this summer to raise several casks of lime from his large Lima beans!

A FELLOW who "run with the engine," asked his friend if he knew what kind of an animal the police made him think of. Well, no; he didn't, exactly. "I'll tell yer,” said he ; "a-muss-quash!" Wasn't that, rather excruci-awful?