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AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
Railroad villages are comparatively a recent 
feature in village building. They usually be¬ 
gin with a depot, follow by a postoffice, a black¬ 
smith shop, and the contents of a couple of 
pedlars’ packs duly distributed upon half-a- 
dozen shelves, and then they are born, and 
christened, and waiting to grow. 
The trains run to and fro, and the passengers 
see the.little group clustered round the track, 
and wonder what they do there, and why they 
do not go on with the train. 
By and by houses get to be an epidemic, and 
up they go, here and there, and all about.— 
Streets are staked, and lots are measured, and 
a public square is reserved, and they have a 
Justice, and a Doctor, and a young Lawyer, and 
“stated preaching” once in two weeks. That’s 
a pretty good beginning, but it’s only a begin¬ 
ning. A young Sophomore, out of funds, and 
looking for a place to teach a winter school, gets 
off from a straggling train some day. Every¬ 
body knows he is there. He reached there at 
two o’clock, and at a quarter past three, every¬ 
body knows who and what he is, and whence he 
is, and the Squire sees him, and the doctor 
shows him round the town—waves his hand 
towards the prairie, and dilates upon its re¬ 
sources—toward the town, and pronounces a 
eulogy upon its enterprize, and the young man 
is charmed, and over the store he climbs at 
once, up one flight of stairs into a “High 
School.” 
Things go bravely on, and a public spirited 
individual, who, as he says, has more room than 
he wants, gets the painter—for meanwhile such 
an artizan has taken passage in the village en 
route to greatness—to emblazon his name in 
large, black letters, upon a very broad board, 
and there is a general rejoicing at the new 
“Hotel,” where the lawyer argues with the 
store-keeper nightly, while the doctor completes 
the triangle, upon the destinies of the world in 
general, and the Depot-dom in particular. 
What they lack now is a newspaper. By and 
by, an old press is for sale in a neighboring 
town, and a “ tramping jour” has stranded upon 
their beach, and the lawyer promises to write 
the leaders, the doctor will contribute the obit¬ 
uaries, the schoolmaster do the puzzles and the 
poetry, while the blacksmith and the merchant 
promise to be liberal patrons in the way of ad¬ 
vertising. The paper appears; like the village 
it is small, but with the village, it grows. 
The trains used to whistle and ring, and 
barely stop their speed. How they stop alto¬ 
gether, for there are more to get off and more to 
get on. 
The tavern-keeper takes a State map of a 
pedlar who happens to be his guest of a rainy 
"Sunday, and discovers that Depot-dom is the 
geographical seat of the county. There is an 
immediate agitation. The seat of Justice, Jus¬ 
tice herself, scales and all, must be removed 
They work at it, electioneer about it. 
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF ITS CONSTRUCTION, DIMENSIONS, &a, AND A HISTORY OF THE ORIGINAL WOODEN 
the key, which at last, with some 20 or 30 tuns 
of stones, was thrown about 60 feet into the 
into the 
We are indebted to Judge Chapin for the 
following description of the wooden bridge 
which formerly spanned the Genesee River in 
the Northern or Carthage suburb of Rochester. 
The description is copied from the Rochester 
Telegraph of February 16,1819 : 
“It is with pleasure wo announce to the public that the 
Carthage Bridge is completed, and that its strength has 
been successfully tested by the authority designated in its 
charter of incorporation. 
“It consists of an ontiro Arch thrown across the Genesee 
River, the chord of which is 352 7-12 feet, and the versed sine 
64 feet. By a recent and accurate admeasurement, it is found 
that the summit of the arch is 196 feet above the surface of the 
water. It is 718 feet in length, and 30 in width, besides four 
large elbow braces placed at the extremeties of the arch, and 
projecting 15 feet on each side of it, thereby presenting a re¬ 
sistance to any lateral pressure or casualty, equal to a width 
of 60 feet. The travel passes upon the crown of the arch, which 
consists of nine ribs, two feet and four inches thick, connected 
by braced levellers above and below, secured by nearly 800 
strong iron bolts. The feet of the arch rest upon solid rock 
about 60 feet below the surfaco of the upper bank ; and the 
whole structure is braced and bound together in a manner so 
compact, as to disarm even cavil of its doubts. The arch con¬ 
tains more than 200 tons, and can sustain any weight that ordi¬ 
nary travel may bring upon it. Loaded teams, of more than 
13 tons, passed over it together a few days since, and produced 
very little perceptible tremor. Great credit is duo to the con¬ 
tractors, Messrs. Brainard & Chapman, for their persevering 
and unremitted efforts in accomplishing this stupendous work. 
" It was erected upon a frame called the supporter or false 
bridge. The Genesee river flows under the bridge with an im¬ 
petuous current, and is compressed to the width of about 120 feet. 
This width was crossed by commencing a frame on each side, 
near the margin, and causing the weight behind to sustain the 
bents progressively bending over the water, which meeting at 
the top, formed a Gothic arch over tho stream, the vertex of 
which was about 20 feet below the present floor of The bridge. 
Though now purposely disconnected from the bridge, the Gothic 
Arch still stands underneath the Iloman, and is esteemed by 
Architects, (in point of mechanical ingenuity,) as great a curi¬ 
osity as the bridge itself. 
The bridge contains 69,513 feet oi timber running meaBuro, 
besides 64,620 feet of board measure ; in addition to 20,806 feet 
of timber contained in tho lalse bridge or supporter. All this 
are some who loathe me earin-uegiauiug 
and long to rise above them, ancl become what 
God intended each to be—the help-mate of man 
—his guardian angel—leading him ever onward 
and upward—aspiring nearer, and still more 
near unto infinite goodness. 
Lend us, then, brothers,—oh 1 we implore 
you !—a helping hand; encourage us amid dif¬ 
ficulties—place no obstructions in our path 
and we will strive to become all that you wish, 
and that our own souls most earnestly desire. 
Carrie Covington. 
air, and the whole went tumblin; 
river below. Our townsman, Mr. Jacob Howe, 
the well-known Fitzhugh street baker, was the 
We have endeav- 
of the engravings of the 
SUMMER TIME, 
last person who crossed it. 
ored to procure 
old bridge, but without success. 
The Genesee Suspension Bridge, above rep¬ 
resented and now just completed, occupies 
nearly the site of the old one above referred 
to. This is a free bridge, constructed at the 
joint expense of the City and County, under 
the direction and superintendence of Messrs. 
Kauffjiann tfc Bissell, Civil Engineers. The 
contractors, J. <fc J. C. Holyland, commenced 
work thereon about a year ago, and have finish¬ 
ed the structure as soon as the nature thereof 
would permit. 
We are indebted to the engineers for the fol¬ 
lowing data: 
Length of roadway.755 feet. 
Width of do.19 “ 
Height above water. 208 “ 
Height of towers.107 “ 
Supporting power of cables and overhead 
stays.1,000 tuns. 
Weight of floor, &c. 150 “ 
The towers are of cast-iron, thoroughly tied 
and braced with wrought bars, and the engi¬ 
neers express great confidence in their stability. 
The highest winds do not shake them in the 
least. The wire was all made by John A. Roe- 
bling, the well-known builder of the Niagara 
bridge, from the best Russia iron. 
The Wheeling, Montmorenci, and other Sus¬ 
pension Bridges, have been destroyed by the 
undulating motion of the floor tearing out the 
anchorages. It will be readily seen that no 
ordinary material will bear the strain caused 
by the momentum of the immense weight of 
one of these bridges. In the Wheeling bridge, 
at the time of its fall, the undulations, or waves, 
were more than 15 feet high. This has been 
guarded against in the Genesee Bridge, by a 
great number of stays from the floor to the 
rocks below. More than a mile (6,000 feet) of 
wire cable has been used for this purpose, and 
the effect is such that the highest winds do not 
move the floor of the bridge half an inch. 
This bridge is pronounced the most beautiful 
Suspension Bridge in the country, but it has 
such “a spider-web appearance” that many 
persons doubt its stability. For ourselves, we 
express no opinion, as we are not judges ; but 
the engineers state to us that they know it is 
well constructed, that all points receiving great 
strain have been carefully guarded, and that 
with proper care it might last any reasonable 
length of time. 
Joyfully the Summer linger?, 
With her music and her flowers, 
Tracing, with her fairy fingers, 
Memories o’er the hearts of ours : 
Garlands woven in like roses— 
Amaranthine flowers they are ; 
In whose chalice there reposes 
Many a nectared beauty rare. 
Summer flowers look in our faces, 
Whispering l< we are dying now,” 
And the light, in sunny places 
Dimmeth often in its glow ; 
Still her birds are sweetly singing, 
Still there’s music in her leaves, 
Still the golden bees are winging. 
And the reaper binds his sheaves. 
And I watch the vines that, bending, 
Hang with clustering flowers to-day, 
Minding me of Sommer blending, 
With the Autumn’s golden ray ; 
As it sends its gloomy shadows 
All along the cottage wall, 
Bringing thoughts as fresh as meadows 
Filled with flowers at evening’s fall. 
Gliding down life’s silent river 
Summer after summer flies, 
And the Autumn brings us ever, 
Nearer home to paradise, 
An d I love, oh! dearly, dearly, 
Love this gloiious world of ours I 
With its seasons changing yearly 
From their ice and snow,to flowers. 
“ Please, sir, give me a cent to buy bread 
with—I am an orphan.” 
Have you refused ? Look at the tearful eyes 
raised so beseechingly to your own—at the lit¬ 
tle hand so red and hard from its untimely ex¬ 
posure. Look at her as she draws that small 
thin shawl around her uncovered shoulders, and 
murmurs timidly —“ something for bread—I am 
an orphan,”—and then turn away without an¬ 
swering that childish prayer, but forget not the 
fate of “ them that remember not the fatherless.” 
Go home to your bright fire—to your sumptu¬ 
ously spread board—wrap your velvet dressing 
robe carefully round you, and as you take the 
curly head of your own pet child upon your 
bosom and her merry voice begs for more toys 
for her already over furnished play-room, and 
as you fill the tiny hands with the glittering 
silver, and listen to her joyous tones—will you 
not remember the little orphan whose prayer 
for bread you refused ?—will you not remem¬ 
ber that half-clothed child that begged for a 
thither, 
and get it. 
Now the huddle is a village, now the village 
is a town ; now the town is a shire-iown, now 
the shire-town is a city. The blacksmith shop 
has grown into a half-a-dozen factories; the 
lawyer is multiplied by ten, the doctor by six, 
and the storekeeper knocks down his prices ten 
per cent., to compete with nineteen new comers. 
And all this is. accomplished through tke 
agency of railroads and locomotives, within the 
space of two or three years. 
The lawyer is a county judge, the doctor has 
grown rich, the blacksmith is Mayor, and the 
Sophomore is married and settled. They have 
a Lyceum and a Library, and a little daily that 
regales its readers with a whole column of city 
items. How they talk of “ our city they are 
no longer villagers and pagans. They are citi¬ 
zens.— Chicago Journal. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
NOT A “REPLY,” BUT A REASON, 
In our simplicity, we little dreamed, when 
we sat down to have a quiet, sisterly “ talk with 
our brothers,” that they, the “lords of creation,” 
with all their nobility of nature—their strength 
of intellect, and acknowledged superiority,— 
weaker sex,” the flimsy ar- 
THE EYE AND MORAL IMPURITY. 
The eye is both the inlet and outlet of a great 
deal of wickednesss of this kind — witness Jo¬ 
seph's mistress, Sampson and David ; and we 
read of eyes full of adultery, that cannot cease 
from sin. We need, therefore, with holy Job, 
to make a covenant with our eyes ; a bargain 
with them, that they should have the pleasure 
of beholding the light of the sun and the works 
of God, provided they would never fasten or 
dwell on anything that might occasion impure 
imaginations or desires. What have we the 
covering of the eyes for but to restrain corrupt 
glances, and to keep out defiling impressions ? 
And if looking be lust, they who dress, and 
deck, and expose themselves, with design to be 
looked at and lusted after, like Jezebel, who 
painted her face, tired her head and looked out 
of the window, are no less guilty. Men sin, 
but devils tempt to sin. 
would tax us, the 
tides “ made by milliners, mantua-makers and 
coopers,” with being the sole cause of all their 
transgressions. We know we are far from per¬ 
fection—but how can “ Harry” and the rest of 
our brothers expect us to be otherwise, when 
thev reflect that for ages woman 
—was only 18 feet wide and of ordinary and convenient height. 
It wa* destroyed during the French revolution, and no entire 
arch is known at present in the old world to exceed 240 feet 
span. The most lofty single arch in Europe, is in England, 
over the river Wear at Sunderland, which falls short of the 
bridge at Carthago 116 feet in the length of the span, and 96 
The bridge at Carthage may 
feet in the height of the arch, 
therefore be pronounced unrivalled in its combined dimensions, 
strength and beauty, by any structure of the kind in Europe or 
America. 
“ The scenery around it is picturesque and sublime, within 
view from it are three waterfalls of the Genesee, one of which 
has 105 feet perpendicular descent. The stupendous banks, 
the mills and machinery, the forest yielding to the industry of 
a rising village—and the navigable wators not 100 rods below 
it, are calculated to fill the mind of a generous beholder with 
surprise and satisfaction. Particularly is this the case, when 
the utility of iho bridge is regarded in connection with its ex¬ 
tent. It presents the nearest route from Canandaigua to Lew¬ 
iston ;—it connects the points of the great Ridge Road ;—it 
opens to the counties of Genesee and Niagara a direct communi¬ 
cation with the water privileges at the lower falls, and the head 
of Navigation on the river, and renders the village of Carthage 
accessible and convenient, as a thoroughfare from the east, the 
west, and the north. 
"Mr. T. H. Wentworth, a distinguished landscape painter, 
has lately taken three views of the bridge, one of Which he in¬ 
tends to publish iu a large and elegant engraving. The repre-. 
sentations he has made, are elegant and correct; and it is 
hoped that a gonerous public will foster the efforts of an in¬ 
genious, self-taught artist, by a liberal support. Tho fine arts 
to enhance the pleasures of taste, by a delineation 
has been 
taught to believe that she has no busiticss with a 
soul, and that all she is fit for, is to shine in the 
ball-room—exu] 
of earthly glory- 
show case of dry 
icome a part of 
furniture. Let her be such a 
is called a “ divine, glorious 
igel without wings,” and other 
sycophantic names. 
But let her step forth, modestly though it 
be, and, throwing aside the gilded trappings 
that fetter her God-given soul, cultivate her 
mind and heart, and by “ precept and example” 
endeavor to redeem her sex, fettered as it is, by 
the trammels of Fashion—let her try to point 
them to a higher, purer life,—thus “ breaking 
the yoke, and letting the oppressed go free,” 
and our “brothers” lift their hands in pious 
horror, and cry aloud of “soiled plumage on 
angel’s wings,”—the “deah creatures” have 
forsaken their sphere— woman’s sphere—to mix 
with the wicked strife of this wicked world— 
while the rabble shout “ blue,” “ strong-mind¬ 
ed woman,” <kc. The retiring modesty, and 
natural delicacy of our sex shrink from such 
treatment—and rather than “brave the storm,” 
they draw back and suffer in silence. 
Think not, then, that the hundreds whom you 
daily meet in the gay circles of fashion are all 
there from choice. No, never. There are many, 
ah! too many, whose immortal part—that es¬ 
sence of Divine love and wisdom—is left uncared 
for, uncultivated, to be overgrown with weeds, 
and never prepared for the Reaper. But there 
Art and Artists. 
Condensed Truths. —It is not what people 
eat, but what they digest, that makes them 
strong. It is not what they gain, but what 
they save, that makes them rich. It is not 
what they read, but what they remember, 
that makes them learned. It is not what they 
profess, but what they practice that makes 
them righteous. These are very plain and 
important truths, too little heeded by gluttons, 
spendthrifts, bookworms, and hypocrites. 
now promise 
of tho most striking contrast between the magnificence of Art, 
and the grandeur of Nature, that the scenery of the western 
world can present.” 
This bridge was paid for by Messrs. Norton, 
Beach it Strong, who then owned the Carthage 
tract, and was intended to attract to Carthage 
the trade from the Ridge Road. It did, for a 
short season, subserve that purpose ; but as a 
radical error had been committed in the con¬ 
struction, the owners were soon compelled to 
put up signs at the ends, marked “dangerous,” 
and after that it -was used but little. The error 
was that the work over the arch at the crown 
was too light. This was ascertained as soon as 
the false work was taken out below, and every 
effort was made to remedy it, but without avail. 
Immense stones were placed over the centre, 
raising 
Brotherhood.— The race of mankind would 
perish did they cease to aid each other. From 
the time that the mother binds the child’s 
head, till the moment that some kind assistant 
wipes the death-damp from the brow of the 
dying, we cannot exist -without mutual help.— 
All, therefore, that need aid have a right to ask 
it from their fellow mortals ; no one who holds 
the power of granting can refuse it without 
guilt .—Sir IF". Scott. 
THE COUNTRY CHILD. 
Child of the country ! free as air 
Art thou, and as the sunshine fair ; 
Born like the lily, where the dew 
Lies odorous when the day is new ; 
Fed ’mid the May flowers like the bee, 
Nursed to sweet music on the knee, 
Lulled on the breast to that sweet tune 
Which winds make ’mong the trees of June ; 
I sing of thee ;—’tis sweet to sing 
Of such a fair and gladsome thing. 
[ Cunningham. 
but the great weight at the sides kept 
