304 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YOR KER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
ELEVATION OF BRACKETED COTTAGE. 
BRACKETED COTTAGE, WITH VERANDA. 
We continue our proposed series of Rural Ar¬ 
chitectural Designs, by giving engraving and 
ground plan of a Symmetrical, Bracketed Cottage, 
with veranda. It is from. Downing’s “ Country 
Houses,” the description condensed from the same 
valuable work. 
A distinguishing feature of this design is its 
large and open veranda or piazza, giving an ex¬ 
pression of domestic exjoyment, especially at this 
season of the year, when it is not only an orna¬ 
mental appendage, but “ a positive luxury, as the 
resting-place, lounging-spot, and place of social 
resort for the whole family at certain hours of the 
day.” This feature, though not an absolute ne¬ 
cessity, is a very important and tasty embellish¬ 
ment to every country house which pretends to 
architectural dignity and beauty. 
The interior of this cottage is designed on the 
principle of giving as large an amount of conve¬ 
nience and comfort as possible, leaving the rest to 
take the secondary rank. “ Hence the kitchen, 
bed-room, nursery, and back-kitchen, the scene 
of a good deal of the daily life of the mistress of 
this cottage, are ail on the first floor and all close 
together. The last three of these are economical¬ 
ly obtained by putting them in a one-storv icing 
added to the rear of the cottage; and though the 
rooms thus afforded are not large, yet they are 
large enough when they are to be kept in order 
with very little “ help.” 
The kitchen, in this plan, is properly the living 
and eating room of the family, and in order that 
it may always be kept neatly, there is a small back 
kitchen adjoining, with its seperate flue fora small 
range or cooking-stove, so that all the rougher 
work can be done there, which makes the larger 
kitchen, usually, a pleasant family dining-room. 
There is a partition across the hall, just by the 
stairs, which is intended to serve as the extreme 
limit of nursery excursions, on all occasions 
when decorum in the parlor is the order of the 
day. The door here, as well as the front door, 
should havp the two uppermost panels glazed, so 
as to light both parts of the hall when they are 
closed.” 
The second floor may be divided into five rooms 
—three in front, with two more and the stairs in 
[ the rear. Or by a more simple mode—bvrepeat- 
| ing the plan of (he hall—we may divide each of 
\ the large rooms into two bed-rooms. This would 
j give four, each 9J by 14 feet. 
“ The veranda of this cottage is 8 feet wide and 
32 feet long. It is one of the most pleasing forms 
of bracketed piazza, and is built with but little cost. 
The w’hole is of w’ood; the rafter being w'orked 
fair and beaded at the angles, as well as the nar¬ 
row sheathing-boards, which cover them, and 
form the under side of the roof. Thus, no plas¬ 
ter ceiling is required. The roof itself is usually 
made of tin, galvanized iron, or shingles. 
PRINCIPAL FLOOR. 
The materials of this cottage are outside weath¬ 
er-boarding, put on in the vertical mode, and fill¬ 
ed-in with brick, so as to make a warm and dry 
house. There should be a cellar under the main 
building, but not under the back wing unless some 
extra space is required. The entrance to this cel¬ 
lar from the interior, would be by a flight of steps 
under the stairs in the hall, and from the exterior 
by a cellar door and flight of stone steps on the 
kitchen side of the house. The windows should 
all have outside Venetian blind shutters. k 
The first story is 10 feet, the second 9§ feet high. 
Estimate .—The whole cost of this cottage is 
estimated at $1,356. Of course, in portions of 
the country where timber is more abundant, the 
cost would be from 15 to 20 per cent, less.” 
ELM-WOOD COTTAGE, ROCHESTER. 
Situated on Genesee street,— a little west and within view of the State Fair Grounds. For plans, 
etc., of this beautiful rural Gothic edifice, see page 393 of our first volume. 
LUCK AND LUCK. 
OR THE MERCHANT AND THE FARMER. 
“Good morning, friend Hoehandle.” 
“Ah! Yardstick, I am glad to see you. Come 
out to smell the fresh air and hear the birds sing, 
I suppose ? Well, I am glad to see you; walk 
into the house; Mrs. Hoehandle will be most hap¬ 
py to see a city friend; that is if you will not quiz 
our style of living. We plain country folks are 
not quite up to fashion; and it is well we are not, 
for we could not afford it if we were. Ah! Yard¬ 
stick, you are a lucky dog—here we are, about 50 
years old each of us, and—” 
“ Good gracious! Hoehandle. Why, what can 
you mean ? Why, I am but forty, or say a trifle 
over, and quite young looking—so they say—at 
that.” 
“Ha! ha! ha! Yardstick, it won’t do. Still 
playing the beau, I see, but no matter. As I was 
saying, here we are. You a rich merchant, never 
did any work in your life, and I, a poor farmer, 
worked hard all my days—boys together—started 
on nothing—everything in luck, evervthinrr in 
luck.” 
“ Well, well, Hoehandle, you are a modest man; 
I won’t yet go into an argument with you on our 
comparative positions in the world; that is I will 
get through another matter first. I want a thou¬ 
sand dollars for thirty days, if you have it over.” 
“ Have it over!—over what, Yardstick ?” 
“I mean, friend Hoehandle, that if you are not 
short, I should like to—the fact is, I am out on a 
shinning expedition, and must raise some money.” 
“Ah! I see, have it over—short—shinning— 
means that you want to borrow, and that I must 
lend you—all right, sir. I have it, I have it, and* 
Yardstick, I am proud to be able to lend you.— 
Want a thousand—well, hold, let us go through 
this matter now, before my good wife comes in— 
these women always want to know all that’s going 
on, and she will inquire if I am indebted to you. 
Indebted, ha! ha! she would be astonished if John 
Hoehandle owed a man a thousand dollars—hillo! 
don’t sigh so, man—what’s the matter ? Pay 
Tape, Yardstick & Co! There you are, sir; here 
is the check.” 
“ Thank you, Hoehandle, here is your note; 
had it ready before I left home,—knew you would 
oblige me.” 
“ As I was observing, Yardstick, you city mer¬ 
chants do have an easy time of it. Go to New 
York, buy your stock, sell at a profit, buy again* 
sell again, roll up your hundred thousand in a few 
years; and poor John Hoehandle works like a 
slave six months out of the twelve, up in the morn¬ 
ing at daylight, and works at least four hours be¬ 
fore dinner, and sometimes six after dinner, and 
in harvest time from sunrise to sunset. Yes, sir, 
it is a fact, and what have we got to show for it ? 
Why, after thirty years’ toil, sir, I have only this 
farm of three hundred acres, and, perhaps, a 
little bank stock, purchased with its yearly profits.” 
“And pray my good friend, what have you 
averaged per year, clear profits, over all expendi¬ 
tures, for all this terrible labor for thirty years?” 
“ Not over two thousand dollars a year, Yard¬ 
stick, while you make ten.” 
“ Let me see, farm worth nine thousand—thirty 
years’ profit—sixty-nine thousand, and a large 
yearly income besides; poor fellow—why vou are 
to be pitied.” 
“ I know it, I know it—all in luck. Ah! if I 
had only been a merchant.” 
“ Let me ask, Hoehandle, your products are all 
sold for cash down, I think. Never credit out, do 
you ?” 
“ Credit! What, credit grain, wheat? Credit 
mv wool? Credit my live stock? Excuse me, 
ha! ha! You do not know what farming is, I see. 
Oh, no, sir, our produce is cash. All we raise is 
cash, at my door. Why, I am plagued to death 
by produce buyers, and purchasers of live stock, 
wool buyers, and all the rest of them, who will 
gladly advance me eighty per cent, on my pro¬ 
duce here and pay me the other twenty in thirty 
days. Credit! I do not know the word sir. I 
don’t use it. But Yardstick, they tell me you are 
rich.”' 
“ Hoehandle, how will you exchange property 
with me, ‘ unsight, unseen,* as the boys sav; you 
know how—how I stand—do you, Hoehandle?” 
“ Stand, yes, sir; why the firm of Tape, Yard¬ 
stick & Co., are good for two hundred thousand at 
any moment. They say that you sold that amount 
last year alone.” 
“ True, so we did on paper, and we are worth 
something handsome too, on paper; hut, sir, we 
cannot feed ourselves on paper, nor build houses 
with paper.” 
“ Well, well, I see—all gammon you dog you. 
Y’ou are rich, you know you are. I am sorry that 
thirty-five years ago I did not make myself a dry 
goods clerk; but here I am toiling, toiling, year 
after year, and show but little for.it, while you sit 
at your desk and count up weekly receipts as they 
rain down—yes, fairly rain down upon you. Ah 
me, nothing but a farmer, and not worth much at 
that. Yardstick, I’ll give you my farm and all 
the balance of my property, for your share in vour 
firm. For all your property at a venture, there?” 
“ My good friend you are really envious of my 
luck as you call it; be frank now, are vou?” 
“ Yes, I am, Yardstick. I can’t help it. Here 
it is only dig—dig—dig. I want, before I die, to 
be a mcrcliant.” 
“And before I die, I want to ho a farmer; so if 
we do not exchange property mind you my good 
friend, it will be your own fault. Nay! don’t stare 
so.” 
“What! What! Yardstick, you astonish me. 
Y'ou want to be a farmer, ha! ha! a man good for 
a hundred thousand before he dies, in a splendid 
business, rolling up his pile, to throw away his 
prospects and take hold of the dirty plowhandle— 
good joke—ha! lia! You take my offer then, do 
you?” 
“ Hoehandle, my friend, a sober word or two 
with you. I have done business thirty years.— 
Have sold millions of dollars’ worth of goods. 
Have made and lost much money. Have credit¬ 
ed large stocks of goods out, which I myself Bought 
on credit, and have stood year after year over the 
brink of a pent-up volcano, expecting that those 
who owed me would explode and blow me to at¬ 
oms. Sleepless nights—weary days—headaches 
and . heartaches — a constant fear that I could 
not keep my chin above water—obliged to raise 
money at high and exorbitant rate's of interest to 
take up my paper with, because my debtors were 
so long winded in their payments to me—stocks 
declined in value—fashions changing—dishonest 
clerks peculating from my money drawer. Ah, 
my friend, I do not wonder that you stare with 
astonishment. Let me hear you iaugh, it is a 
charm for me. Sunshine! sir, a merchant’s heart 
if he care for his reputation and his credit, when 
embarked in such a hazardous business as a whole¬ 
saler, has no sunshine. We don’t know the feel¬ 
ing;, sir. Care, corroding care, eats up his heart, 
weighs him down: turns his day intonight; he 
can’t shake it off; it is a horrible nightmare. He 
goes to New York, sir; he buys fifty thousand dol¬ 
lars worth of goods on time, and gives notes. O! 
those bank notes—fearful words to a man who has 
credit at stake, and relies upon his customers to 
pay their notes by which he may be able to meet 
his own. See him, sir, fairly embarked like a 
ship at sea, and this ship is surrounded on all sides 
by huge icebergs, perfect mountains—no chance 
of escape; by-and-by he sees they are coming 
down upon hilt# he is hemmed in; slowly and qui¬ 
etly these huge piles advance; steadily they come; 
the ship will surely be crushed. Aye not a chip 
left of her—down, down they come. Hold! a lit¬ 
tle blue sky is seen, she escapes, she gets into the 
sea once more.” » 
“ The ship is like the merchant, the mountains 
of ice, the bank notes, the hills payable; the blue 
sky, the bills receivable. But sometimes the bills 
receivable are not met, and the ship is crushed to 
atoms.” 
“ How do you like the picture, my friend? So 
much for a merchant’s life. We are not what we 
seenj. Our extensive business is all on paper— 
mere trash; ihe great noise we make is produ¬ 
ced by the emptiness of our pretensions.—Now, 
sir, will you take your place at the desk, and 
let the cash rain down upon you? Nay, you aie 
too sensible a man. Stick to "the farm; you are a 
lord, aye, a king; independent; owing no man; 
while the poor merchant must cringe and fawn 
upon banks and money-lenders. Yes, sir, go 
down on his knees to get money to'save his cred¬ 
it. Sir, producers may say—‘we ask nothing of 
the banks, nothing of the merchants; both ask 
everything that constitutes the whole comforts of 
life from us.’ Give me now your property for 
mine, with rny kind of life with it? Nay, when 
I tell you that one single disastrous year with the 
kind of business I am doing, would sweep away 
all 1 am worth'—will you exchange situations with 
me?” 
“Friend Yardstick I thank you; but what a 
picture you have set before me! I’ll never des¬ 
pise the old farm again, never. Let us join 
Mrs. Hoehaiidle in the dining room, and as we 
take a quiet lunch, with a thankful heart, we will 
drink a glass of domestic catawba, with this toast: 
‘The farmer, the luckiest mortal on earth.’ ” 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt- 
Nothing's so hard, but searcli will find it out.’” 
ILLUSTRATED CHARADE. 
THE DREAM. 
DE WITT CLINTON. 
On the casement frame the wind beat high; 
Never a star was in the sky; 
All Kenneth Hold was wrapped in gloom, 
And Sir Everard slept in a spacious room. 
I sat and sang beside his bed— 
Never a single word I said, 
Yet did I scare his slumber— 
And a fitful light in his eye-ball glistened, 
And his cheek grew pale as he fay and listened ; 
I or he thought, or he dreamed, that (lends and favs 
Were reckoning o'er his fleeting days, 
And telling out their number. 
Was it my second’s ceaseless tone ? 
On my second’s hand he laid his own ; 
The hand that trembled in his clasp 
Was crushed by his convulsive grasp. 
Sir Everard did not fear my tirst; 
He had seen it in shapes that men deem worst— 
In many a field and flood. 
Yet, in the darkness of his dread, 
His tongue was parched, and his reason fled ; 
And he watched, as the lamp burnt low arid dim, 
To see some phantom, gaunt and grim, 
Come, stained all o’er with blood. 
Sir Everard kneeled, and strove to pray; 
He prayed for light, and he prayed for day, 
Till terror checked his prayer; 
And ever I muttered, clear and well. 
My “click, click,” like a tolling hell. 
Till, bound in Fancy’s magic spell. 
Sir Everard fainted the-e. [English Magazine. 
uYA’ Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c. IN NO. 89. 
Answer to Geographical Enigna.— Brown’s 
Mills, Burlington Co., N. J. 
Charade unanswered. 
Sk4S3«£s©S 7m: Ur. yyy-Z-?*^. 
De Witt Clinton, the third son of Gen. Jap. 
Clinton, was born March 2, 1769, in Little Biit- 
ain. Orange Co., N. Y. He commenced his ed¬ 
ucation at a common school, continued it in an 
academy at Kingston, N. Y., and, in 1784, enter¬ 
ed the Junior class of Columbia College, New 
Fork. Here he commenced the practice of read¬ 
ing with his pen in his hand—which he continued 
till the close of his life—finding it of great value 
in fixing facts and principles in his mind for use in 
all the exigences of the public career to which he 
was called. He graduated in 1786, at the head of 
his class, and soon after commenced tiie study of 
law with Samuel Jones, an eminent lawyer, in 
the city of New York. 
At the age of nineteen, he published a paper in 
which he discussed freely and ably, the Constitu¬ 
tion of the United States and the proceedings of 
the Convention then discussing its adoption. The 
next year he became the private Secretary of his 
uncle, Gov. Geo. Clinton, the first Governor of 
the State under the new Constitution. This sta¬ 
tion he held for six years, and was actively engag¬ 
ed in the political controversies of the times. 
In 1802, he was elected to the United States 
Senate, when his talents first found an ample field 
of action. He held the office of Mayor of New 
York city for ten years, and in 1811, was elected 
Lieutenant Governor of the State. In 1817 he 
was elected Governor, and re-elected in 1820. In 
“It is to the perseverence and energy of De 
Witt Clinton that the Empire State is mainly 
indebted for the Erie Canal. On the subject of 
connecting the waters of the lakes with the Hud¬ 
son and the ocean, he was the master spirit. His 
mind directed, and his hand guided its proceed¬ 
ings. The Erie Canal Bill passed the New York 
Legislature, April 15, 1817, and the work was 
commenced on the 4th of July of the same year. 
In October, 1825, the Erie Canal was completed, 
and Gov. Clinton passed in triumph from Lake 
Erie to the Hudson, amid the roar of cannon the 
waving of banners, and manifestations of general 
joy* 
“ De Witt Clinton died suddenly on the 11th 
of Feburary, 1828. He had been in attendance 
during the day in tluf Executive Chamber, had 
returned home to dinner, and afterward entered 
his study and wrote several letters. While there, 
conversing with two of his sons, he complained of 
a stricture across his breast, and almost immedi¬ 
ately expired. 
“ No man ever did as much for, or received so 
largely the confidence and honors of the people of 
the State of New York, as De Witt Clinton.— 
His successful efforts in internal improvement 
gave an impetus to business throughout the coun¬ 
try—gave birth to western prosperity—changed 
howling forests into a garden—opened an empire 
to civilization, whose infant strength foreshadows 
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY, AT ROCHESTER, BY 
D. D. T, MOORE, Proprietor. 
Publication Office in Burns’ Block, [No, 1,2d floor,] 
corner of State and Buffalo sis. 
1824 he was re-chosen, and continned to hold the results hitherto unknown in the history of the 
office until his death in 1828. human race.” 
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