380 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
kering after fashionable necessaries ? Could 
the real cause of many failures be known, 
it would be found to result from useless ex¬ 
penditure at home—expenses to answer the 
demands of fashion, and “ what will people 
think.” 
“ My wife has made my fortune,” said a 
gentleman of great possessions, “by her 
thrift and prudence, and cheerfulness, when 
I was just beginning.” 
“ Mine lost my fortune ;” answered his 
companion, “ by useless extravagance and 
repining when I was doing well.” 
What a world does this open to the influ¬ 
ence which a wife possesses over the future 
prosperity of her family! Let the wife know 
her influence and try to use it wisely and 
well. 
Be satisfied to commence on a small scale. 
It is too common for young housekeepers to 
commence where their mother’s ended. Buy 
all that is necessary to work skillfully with; 
adorn your house with all that will render it 
comfortable. Do not look at richer homes, 
and covet their costly furniture. If secret 
dissatisfaction is reacly to spring up, go a 
step further and visit the homes of the poor 
and suffering, behold dark, cheerless apart¬ 
ments, insufficient clothing and absence of 
the comfort and refinement of social life, 
and then return to your own with a joyful 
spirit. Be independent; a young house¬ 
keeper never needed a greater moral courage 
than she does now to resist the arrogance of 
fashion. You know best what you can and 
ought to afford ; then decide, with strict in¬ 
tegrity, according to your means. 
THE BEAUTY OF THE DEAD. 
That celebrated painter, C. R. Leslie, R. 
N., in one of his lectures, relates the follow¬ 
ing singular facts: I knew a man of the 
highest order of mind, a man of fine feelings, 
but of great simplicity, and far above all af¬ 
fectation, who, standing before the corpse of 
his wife, said—“It gives me very pleasura¬ 
ble sensations.” And yet he had truly loved 
her. The lines in “ The Giaour,” in which 
the present aspect of Greece is compared to 
a beautiful corpse, are familiar to every read¬ 
er. Lord Byron in a note to the passage, re¬ 
marks that “ this peculiar beauty remains 
but a few hours after death.” But I have 
been told, by those who are in the habit of 
making casts, that on the second day the ex¬ 
pression is generally improved, and even on 
the third day it is often still finer. I have, 
in several instances, been asked to make 
drawings of the dead ; and though in every 
case I have entered the room where the body 
lay, somewhat reluctantly, yet I have inva¬ 
riably felt reluctant to quit it. At Kreutz- 
berg, near Bonn, there is a church, under the 
pavement of which lie, in one vault, the 
bodies of twenty-five monks in open coffins. 
The dryness of the air has preserved them 
from decay, though the last buried has lain 
there for more than a century. I visited this 
church with a party of ladies, who at first 
hesitated to descend into the abode of the 
dead. We all, however went down, each 
carrying a lighted taper, and such was the 
fascination of this singular scene that we 
lingered in it for some time. The air was 
perfectly pure, and we seemed to be in 
another world, with its own eternal interests 
effacing for the time all other interests. It 
seemed to us a mistake that death should be 
represented by poets and painters as a hide¬ 
ous phantom. We could not contemplate 
those withered faces old men—for they 
seemed all old, and think of death otherwise 
than as a gentle friend. Their attitudes 
were varied, and all had a kind of grace, 
which, though we knew it to be arranged by 
their friends, seemed perfectly natural. 
One, the gardener, had a chaplet of withered 
leaves round his head. All were clothed in 
the dress of their order, and their clothes, as 
well as their bodies, though the last were 
dried to mummies, appeared to be little de¬ 
cayed. The cast taken very imperfectly by 
Dr. Antonomarchi, from the face of Napo¬ 
leon, is more handsome than any bust or 
portrait of him, and, indeed, has the look of 
a much younger man than he appears in the 
latest portraits. This is easily accounted 
for. Illness has reduced the superabundant 
fleshiness of the lower part of his face, and 
brought it back to the condition of an early 
period; and death, by leaving the mouth 
slightly open, had destroyed that expression 
of selfiish determination which the thin com¬ 
pressed lips give to every portrait of Napo¬ 
leon. The profile of the cast is the most 
perfectly beautiful profile of a man I ever 
saw. 
SCHUYLER THE RUINED BANKER. 
A New-York letter writer makes the fol¬ 
lowing comment upon the fallen fortunes of 
the celebrated Robert Schuyler : 
I passed the other day the splendid man¬ 
sion of Mr. Schuyler, whose stupendous 
frauds are so well known. It was closed and 
apparently solitary, though his family still 
reside there. What a contrast a few months 
has apparently made in that family! Its 
glory is dim. Crowds no longer assemble 
in the spacious parlors ; the coaches of the 
splendid and gay do not line the side walk ; 
the brilliant lights and the dashing company 
no longer allure the crowd to herd around the 
curb stone—all is solitude. But what a les¬ 
son does this event teach. 
Mr. Schuyler had two characters. In busi¬ 
ness, on ’Change, at his rooms in the Astor, 
he was known as the high-minded, honora¬ 
ble, successful, pure-minded man, one of 
whom New-York was proud, one whom she 
delighted to honor. Now come with me into 
one of the least pretending streets in New- 
York. This house is as unpretending as the 
street. Mr. Spicer lives here. Let us enter. 
Mrs. Spicer and a family of children from 19 
and under, compose the household. It is 
•aid to be a singular family. Mr. Spicer is 
a singular man. No one ever sees him. 
The butcher, the milkman, the landlord, don’t 
know him. Mrs. Spicer does all the busi¬ 
ness. Mr. Spicer comes in late; he goes 
away early in the morning. 
He is a business man; he has so much 
business that he is never seen in his family. 
Remain there day and night, and you will 
never see Mr. Spicer. The daughters be¬ 
come young ladies. They are well educa¬ 
ted. They go out into society, but no one 
knows their father. Mr. Spicer’s name is 
not in the business directory. So have this 
family lived for twenty years in the heart of 
New-York! At length the elder Miss Spi¬ 
cer is engaged to a most worthy man. It is 
needful to gain the consent of Mr. Spicer that 
the marriage may take place. 
A time is appointed, and the expected son- 
in-law is placed face to face with Mr. Spicer. 
He is told by the father himselfthat his name 
is not Spicer, but is Mr. Schuyler ; that the 
mother of his daughter is not a wife ; but if 
the daughter is taken in marriage the mother 
shall be wedded. The double act is con¬ 
summated ; the veil is removed, New-York 
agitated for a moment by the disclosures; 
an elegant house is taken on Twenty-second 
street, and the family is launched on the 
waves of fashionable life. All the world 
knows the sequel. With so rotten a founda¬ 
tion, how could the superstructure stand? 
Amusement in North America. —In Salem, 
Massachusetts, after the heavy and deep 
snow fall, a man wa3 discovered sticking 
sticks into a huge “ winter bank of snow.” 
On being asked why he amused himself thus? 
“ Amuse !” said he, with a voice which be¬ 
trayed the deepest anxiety of mind. “ Fine 
amusement! I have lost my shop—it used 
to stand somewhat near this spot .”—English 
Paper. 
THE SOLDIER AMONG THE POOR. 
She Salut Public of Lyons (France) has the 
following : “ Three gentlemen who, though 
dressed in plain clothes, were, very evident¬ 
ly, from their martial aspect, and from their 
red ribbon at their button holes, officers of 
the army were, a few weeks ago, walking in 
the Jardinesdes Plantes. A poor woman 
with two children begged alms of them. Two 
of them immediately gave her some money ; 
the third felt in his pockets, but found to his 
regret, that he had forgotten his purse. A 
little further on the three gentlemen were 
again solicited for alms, the beggar being a 
little boy, aged about nine, and as an induce¬ 
ment to them to give, the boy began turning 
head over heels before them. “ The little 
fellow gives me a good idea,” cried the offi¬ 
cer who had forgotten his purse ; “ I will bet 
you twenty francs that I can turn head over 
heels as well as he does !” “ The thing is 
worth seeing,” said the other two, laughing, 
“ and we take the bet!” Immediately, the 
author of the proposition proceeded, with all 
the agility of a boy, to execute the feat; and 
when he had done it he extended his hand 
for the money. On receiving payment of the 
twenty francs, he immediately gave them to 
the poor woman. Some persons who were 
present complimented the officer on his gen¬ 
erosity and skill. “ Pooh!” replied he, 
“ there is not a soldier in the French army 
who would not, on such an occasion, be de¬ 
lighted to exercise the gymnastic skill he 
may have acquired in his regiment.” 
The Miseries of Royalty’s Ceremoniai. 
Toilets. —And what a cruel ceremony was 
the dressing of that same Queen ! When 
Marie Antoinette, in the days of her cum¬ 
bersome greatness, stood of a morning in the 
center of her bedchamber, awaiting, after her 
bath, her first article of dress, it was pre¬ 
sented to her, or rather it was passed over 
her royal shoulders by the “ dames d’hon- 
neur.” Perhaps, at the very moment, a 
princess of the blood entered the room (for 
French Queens both dressed and dined in 
public), the right of putting on the primal 
garment of her Majesty immediately devolved 
upon her, but it could not be yielded to her 
by the “ dame d’honneur;” the latter, ar¬ 
resting the chemise de la Heine, as it was 
passing down the royal back, adroitly 
whipped it off, and presenting it to the “ pre¬ 
miere dame,” that noble lady transferred it 
to the princess of the blood. Madame Cam- 
pan had once to give it up to the Duchess of 
Orleans, who solemnly taking the same, was 
on the point of throwing it over the Queen’s 
head, when a scratching (it was contrary to 
etiquette to knock) was heard at the door of 
the room. Thereupon entered the Countess 
de Provence, and she being nearer to the 
throne than the lady of Orleans, the latter 
made over her office to the new comer. In 
the meantime, the Queen stood like Venus 
as to covering, but shaking with cold, for it 
was midwinter, and muttering “ What an 
odious nuisance !” The Countess de Prov¬ 
ence entered on the mission which had fallen 
to her; and this she did so awkwardly, that 
she entirely demolished a head-dress which 
had taken three hours to build. The Queen 
beheld the devastation, and got warm by 
laughing outright .—Habits and Men, by Dr. 
Doran . 
