THE LADIES' REPOSITORY.

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CINCINNATI, JANUARY, 1841.

VIEW ON THE OHIO RIVER.

(SEE ENGRAVING.)

associations, and from their antiquity alone supplying the inspiration of deep romance, afford to transatlantic THE principal scene in this engraving embraces the artists, as well as poets, themes of surpassing interest, highly improved grounds and beautiful residence of adapted to rouse genius to enthusiasm. American geThomas H. Yeatman, Esq. These are in Ohio, two nius has no such provocations. But is there nothing miles below Cincinnati. The point of view is on the then to rouse it? Indeed there is. It has other and Kentucky side, nearer the city, and in the neighborhood equal provocations. If age invests an object with talof Mr. Israel Ludlow's dwelling. The trees in the fore-ismanic power over genius, America abounds in fruitground are intended to mark this point of observation, ful sources of inspiration. She has her granite rocks from which the principal scene below on the opposite and rushing streams-old at least as Noah's race. She side, appears to picturesque advantage, as those who has her spreading seas and towering mountains-provisit the spot will readily perceive. The painting isbably coeval with hoary time. Our own prairies drank by Mr. Samuel Lee, and the engraving by Mr. Wm. in the fires of a thousand laughing summers before Woodruff. These are western artists, and both reside Afric' Thebes was born, even although its moldering in this city. The engraving is thought to be very cor- Sphynxes are now mingled with sordid dust. These rect, presenting in just and striking shades the princi-western forests, with their countless giant progeny, pal graces of this charming scene. From the ascent to Mt. Auburn, above the head of Sycamore-street, we can trace, at a glance, that graceful curve of the river which is so beautifully represented by the painter and the engraver's skill.

antedate the glories of Europe's remotest architecture. And, finally, the scene pictured in our frontispiece, except as changed by culture, is older, by tens of centuries, than all the Gothic towers of Christendom. With all that is inspiring, then, in gray-haired

The pleasure of inspecting a beautiful picture, however, does not all lie in the associations of the piece.

The picture also presents, in a very striking aspect, || antiquity, America is richly furnished. the peculiar features of our Ohio scenery. Those In this respect, if there be a difference, the west is swelling eminences which bound the alluvial borders || better supplied than the east. The antiquities of nature of the river, in the "down stream" distance, surround-are common to both; but in regard to those of art they ed by small table plats, which afford choice sites for are unequal. As to civilized antiquity, it belongs propfarmers' houses or country seats, together with the lofti-erly to neither. A period of two hundred years breeds er but not precipitously abrupt elevations in the rear— no antiquity. If, then, we would search for antiquithese belong almost characteristically to this enchant-ties of art, we must travel back to periods anterior to ing valley. The huge branchless tree, which seems civilization-we must go to savage life. In the west to have endured the storms of more than half a thous-we have the Indian mound and the ruined fortificaand winters, would, by the practiced eye of a pioneer, tion-the latter of an antiquity too remote for any cerbe recognized as an old acquaintance, nourished no- tain date or origin. where but in the rich bottom of the Ohio. Perhaps with scarcely one exception this is the first specimen of western rural and river scenery which has been pre-True it is that historical or other associations greatly sented to the public in either copper or steel engra- heighten that pleasure. We behold with very differvings. If any ask why it is so, it certainly is not ent emotions, the portrait of a stranger, and that of a because western scenery, of that description, has no deceased parent. In landscapes, a fine fancy piece charms, or presents no inviting features of beauty or and the well sketched home-stead of our childhood of boldness to provoke the efforts of gifted, practiced unvisited for years, would excite in us different kinds genius. True, there is less majesty in the scenery of of admiration. But aside from the power of associathe Ohio than there is in much of eastern scenery. tion, nearly all persons are pleased with pictures. It is We have not the palisades, or highlands, or the lofty in human nature to be thus pleased. He who gave us neighboring Round Top of the Hudson; but if our a taste for music and a relish for poetry, gave us also scenery is more tame, it is frequently more beautiful-an eye for the productions of the pencil; and no matmore agreeable to the staid observer, if not to the tran-ter what objects are skillfully represented, the art which sient visitor, who travels far to inspect nature's rude-shadows them forth to the eye does of itself demand ness, but soon falls sick of her extravagance, and our delighted homage. Indeed, so delicate a mechanescapes its exhibitions.

The difference between eastern and western scenery is not more marked than that between American and European. Ancient religious houses, and baronial castles, and royal palaces, fruitful in rich historical

VOL. 1-1

ical use of light, requiring an eye and a hand almost divine, ought to excite our admiration-not only of the practiced genius of the artist, but of that infinite wisdom, and power, and love, by which man is so fearfully and wonderfully made.

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Original.
READING.

BY L. L. HAMLINE.

READING.

In laughing youth she woos the treasured page, And locks up stores to cheer her withering age. READING increases the amount of human happiness. It renders life tolerable to some, and a continued entertainment to others. To enjoy it, three things are indispensable, viz., time, taste and books.

As to time, it is but a score of years since the ladies had scarcely any leisure. Their avocations were not very fatiguing, but kept them almost constantly employed. Spinning and spooling and quilling and weaving, to which I may add, a good deal of tailoring and mantua-making, made them very industrious and cheerful. Then there was no great difference between high life and low, at least so far as employments were concerned.

Excepting good behavior, the family dignity depended more than any thing else, on the quantity of wool and flax manufactured, and on the texture of the cloths when finished and put on. I can remember when the children in my father's family were in more danger of desecrating the Sabbath and provoking reproof, by peeping at a piece of fine cloth just out of the loom, than from all other temptations.

In those days the man had more leisure than his wife and daughters. His fatiguing toils necessarily procured him seasons of inactivity. Through the long winter evenings the farmer reposed in the old arm chair, while the eldest son, book in hand, read entertaining narratives to the mother and her daughters, mingling the bass of his bold, manly voice, with the varying treble of three or four spinning-wheels.

arose, when their office was rudely abolished, and they were suddenly absolved. The manufacturers seized the wool to their own use, and by cheap cottons, superseded domestic linens. Thus the labor of the wheel and the loom suddenly changed hands. Then it was found that the revolution (as is always the case when governments change their policy) would proceed farther than was intended. The natural connection between weaving cloth, and cutting and sewing cloth, being broken up, the tailor followed the manufacturer, and at last the mantua-maker the tailor, leaving nothing for the domestic needle, except the light affair of caps and collars, with now and then a job for charity, or a trifle wrought and furnished for the "Fair.”

Now comes a turn in the progress of my narrative. Under the influence of this domestic change, it will be found that the ladies have not so demeaned themselves as to merit unmixed praise. Even if they have done well, they certainly might have done better. At any rate (for to reform is more pleasant than to accuse) there are openings and calls for their improvement. If they merit mitigated censure, yet for their comfort let them remember that they are involved, as always happens, not so much by their own inclinations as by man's remissness. The charge against them is, and I reluctantly rehearse it, that they did not and do not, with glowing ardor, consecrate the hours once devoted to the distaff, to reading and study. Having at length acquired some leisure, they seem to be lavish of it. They let slip days and months, which, diligently used for mental culture, would constitute them mentors in the circles of their homes, and prepare them to polish the immortal jewelry which Heaven commits to them for keeping. This indictment does not suit all; yet, on the whole, it is too well founded.

To remedy this great evil we need a second revolution, not such as was brought about when domestic manufactures were abolished, but a revolution in woman's taste, or in her sources of enjoyment.

Taste controls all our actions. Our pleasures arise from its gratification; and if taste can be so formed as to draw us on to innocent indulgences, our pleasures will be guiltless, and will of course inflict no remorse, and confer no pain. Furthermore, if taste can be so

In those times of sweet simplicity, it was not required nor expected that females should know much; they were only required to love and labor much, and keep their families neat and prim and happy. Not that nature or custom permitted them to labor in the fieldfor then there would have been some remission of their toil—but all their waking hours were given to home cares, and no leisure was found, except for slight devotions.. Time breeds revolutions. It has wonderfully chang-formed as to draw us on to virtuous indulgences, our ed the domestic habits of females, making some of their pleasures will be not only innocent but holy, and inancient and honorable callings void and obsolete. For stead of remorse, will produce a reflex joy. This is many years I have been thrown, by circumstances, into the great secret of the pleasures of religion. And all sorts of society. In journeying, I have found en- this is the reason, too, that conversion must precede tertainment at all seasons of the year, amongst rich and prepare the way for those pleasures. To the unand poor, rude and gentle. I have fed and lodged in renewed soul, communion with God is no comfort "squatters' " cabins, and have spent long December or joy, because taste is not gratified. To the sanctievenings by the kitchen fires of thrifty farmers; yet, in fied, that communion is transporting, because it grati all these turns and stoppings, years have passed since fies those new-born relishes which are infused into the I heard the soothing tones of a well bred spinning-soul by regeneration. And then, these pleasures, being wheel. For this I blame nobody. It has come, at all warranted by God, are innocent and leave no stingevents, without the let or hindrance of the ladies. If being enjoined by him, they are holy, and through the blame there be, it does not attach to them. They were medium of memory, reflect from the past peace and always patient of labor, and even proud of it. They satisfaction. cheerfully plied the shuttle, until the era of factories

If we may compare small things with great, shad

ows with substances, the pleasure derived from the || thousands they are unavailing-I repeat it, unavailing. perusal of good books, slightly resembles those of religion-as nearly, at least, as unsanctified delights (for I now speak of reading generally, whether religious or irreligious) can resemble the purely spiritual. Reading of this kind is not only innocent, but is a warranted indulgence-indulgence to those who relish it, but to others a mere penance. And now, to be absolved from this penance, and convert it into a delightful in- || dulgence, I urge all my female readers to cultivate a taste for books.

If you demur to this, inspect, for conviction, some families of genteel opulence. A daughter completes her education at sixteen. Then what is she prepared for? You must judge from her vocation. And what is that? To detail its round of duties might be tedious. The first is a labored journey from the chamber to the breakfast table; thence, by a lingering stage, she finds the drawing-room. The toilet comes next; and at eleven o'clock all these arduous engagements are discharged. Then follow parlor ceremonies. These It is not impossible to form such a taste; nay more, consist of morning calls, manufacturing chit chat, disit is not very difficult. Nature supplies the elements missing worthy visitors, and at last relapsing into to every human mind. Whoever may say no, I be- listlessness; or more probably she seizes a mawkish lieve it. I judge the relish for reading to be partly na- romance, and with sublime excitement traces the tural and partly unnatural in every case. I thus judge, Quixotic errantries of some forsaken, love-lorn maiden. because any one by neglecting books will, in time, come|| And how the day closes, which opened with such austo care less for them, and finally to feel but little inter-picious morning auguries, belongs to you to fathom. est in them. Even he who has feasted on them with I shall not sound its depths. a devouring appetite, may be weaned, at least so far as not to pine for them. And if we can destroy, we can also cultivate a taste for reading; for we destroy it by || creating some new relish which was just as difficult to produce as its antagonist.

But how shall the relish be created? I answer, read-read until it becomes captivating. For this you must, in a good measure, "keep the ball rolling." You may use frequent, but not protracted intermissions. Mark your place when you close the book, and return to it before you forget the last paragraph. Unless you do this, should you begin to take delight in books, you will soon lose the relish.

The absent, however loved, are soon forgotten. So it is with books. Is it strange that many have no delight in reading, when they have never practiced it to any great extent? How do we attach ourselves to any thing? I answer, by intimate acquaintance. How do we estrange ourselves? By ceasing to fellowship. Well, then, instructed by experience, begin now to cultivate an intimacy with books. They are worthy. Their charms will heighten in your conception at every lengthened interview. You will find them an amiable family-communicative, instructive, and exceedingly entertaining. They will soon come nearer to engrossing your whole attention, than the worthiest friend you have on earth; and, indeed, it would not be the strangest thing in nature if, in less than a twelve-month, it should be whispered through the neighborhood that it is a "heart affair." It would be a delicate, and I trust a grateful compliment.

I know that, amongst the middle classes, the case is somewhat different; yet the difference is not in favor of literature or reading. True, the daughters of our worthy farmers and mechanics are partially saved from the misfortune just described, by the pressing cares of home; and this is no small blessing. It diminishes novel reading, and its resulting sickly sentiment; and thus, if nothing more, it prevents much evil. But I regret to have observed that the industrious classes exhibit an inclination to divide their waking hours between manual cares and mental self-indulgence. Do not the ladies, in country life, sometimes check the busy needle to pursue a tale of romance? or from the decent kitchen, adorned with suds and sausage, pausing not a moment for toilet preparation, rush into courts of royalty to sup with kings and courtiers?

"Domestic drudgery can scarce advance
Its claims in competition with romance;
Grumbling, the brother, or the husband, goes
With elbows ragged, and undarned hose.
Cares, duties, pleasures, without notice pass;
And every thing neglected, but the glass,-
Some cruel mother may perhaps deny
The precious volumes to her daughter's eye;
Then, after thousand efforts to deceive,
She gets the lovely book without her leave;
And reads, with brush in hand, should madam come,
That she may jump, and seem to sweep the room.
For if, while poring deep, she chance to hear
The well known steady step, approaching near,
At once, alas! each tender thought is hushed,
Down goes the novel, and up flies the dust.
At midnight, too, perhaps her thoughts engage
Too deeply in the fascinating page;
Dead to all else, she cannot stop to raise
Her hand, to snuff the candle's flickering blaze;
Nor even heeds the taper tilted down,

That melts, like her, in tears upon her gown."
But to quarrel with novels is not my present purpose.
I bear them no good will; but for them and other tri-

In this innocent devotion to books you may emulate the matronly industry of former generations; and in doing it you may reap a choicer harvest. Theirs were mortal fruits-yours will be immortal. Their careful, pious hands were employed to deck the persons of their sons with home-spun honors—you will toil for the orna- ||fles I propose a second chapter. It is sufficient now to ments of mind. And who among you will eschew labors productive of such fruit, and at the same time so delightful in their progress? The provocations to diligence are without a parallel. Yet I know that with

say that to devour novels is no more reading, than to inhale exhilerating gasses is feasting.

But I am aware that ladies cannot read without books. Neither time nor taste will avail them, unless