386 Rejiections hy a Resident of the Hill Side. [August, 



Suspicion and sensitiveness are our ruling foibles, and this confession 

 must plead the apology. Clifton is a place presenting a great 

 many beautiful eminences, dotted over with the magnificent palaces 

 of the y.^ealthy merchant princes of Cincinnati. It presents to the eye 

 a harmonious blending of all the beauties. This, then, is the Elysium 

 on earth, that we hear and read of in romance ! Are these people 

 ever burdened with care ? Do they know a light of sorrow ? Do they 

 ever feel the sting of adv^ersity ? Axq their bodies ever racked with 

 pain ? Do they die ? Alas ! Let us not moralize too long here, else 

 echo may spoil our delusion, by a response of yes ! to all these queries. 



Arriving upon the summit, and descending the slope of the hill 

 from Clifton, a scene presented itself to the eye worthy the Dencil 

 of a master painter. The view is panoramic ; taking in at a glance 

 the plain and valley of Mill creek, with the surrounding hills, exhibit- 

 ing in every direction a natural scenery, with such improvements and 

 embellishments, that might well challenge comparison with any other 

 region in the United States. Across the waters of Mill creek, and 

 skirting the edge of something in the sh::pe of a village, is the re- 

 sidence of Mr. Jacob Hoffner, whose grounds annually attract the 

 attention of thousands. No visitor ever entered his hospitable gates, 

 and left without expressions of admiration, wonder, and surprise, that 

 such perfection should be realized in landscape gardening. Flowers, 

 lawns, evergreens, statuary, rock- work, and fish-ponds, all combine to 

 make the scene one of enchantment. Still further in the distance, 

 and to the left, on a gentle rise, or eminence, is the residence of 

 ^^ Bell Smith." And " Bell," whether at home or "abroad," is just 

 now making substantial foot-prints on the sands of time. She has 

 already passed through the incipieney of her literary triumphs. May 

 she weave for herself a garland of fame's unwithering laurels ! 



Far away to the right is " Spring Grove," with its thousands of 

 white marble tomb-stones and monuments. But let us ]o^ alons;. 

 These are but golden fringes to a dark-looking center. Time and 

 space will not permit our further contemplation of the ravishing 

 scene. We pass through the town of "Cumminsville," almost as old 

 in appearance as the everlasting hills which surround it. 



A little further on and we are within the gates of " Spring Grove! " 

 As we drove down the main avenue, the keen north air m.o&t /eelingly 

 persuaded us tJiat we were mortal ; but the effulgent sun gave to all 

 nature a delightful glow, which was in most beautiful harmony with 

 the scene under contemplation. It was autumn, melancholy autumn, 

 which is well calculated to remind man of his own decay. It is the 



