I would have the home of the working-man his most delightful resort. To be so, it should be pleasing, even its outside. Why should it not be a well-proportioned cottage, with its windows overhung by sweetbrier and honeysuckle, and its roof shaded by spreading trees? Why should not the little door-yard be carpeted with grass, and hedged with shrubbery? These are not luxuries of the rich alone. Yet it is too common for people to think that because they are poor they must be slovenly and dirty. A little whitewash, a little paint, a little turfing, and a few days of labour about the vines and flowers, will serve to change the whole appearance of the humblest enclosure.

But let us enter the working-man's house; and in order to meet the extremest objection, I am supposing the case of the poorest. The walls should be white, the floors and wood-work should be scoured, the movables should be in their places, and no unsightly utensil should be more conspicuous than necessity requires. These are externals, but they bear directly upon what is more inward and more valuable. Everybody is more cheerful in a neat than in a disorderly room. When work is over, and every thing in its place, the visiter is more welcome, the husband's look is brighter, and an affectionate flow spreads itself through the circle.

The difference between England and America

on the one hand, and the southern countries of Europe on the other, is founded in a good measure on the homes of the former, and the absence of them in the latter. The common law has acknowledged the principle, that every man's house is his castle. It is true in more senses than one. Home is the citadel of all the virtues of the people. For by home we mean something more than one's house it is the family that makes the home. It is the peculiar abode and domain of the wife: and this one circumstance marks it out as human, and as Christian. Sacred wedlock is the fountain not only of its pleasures but of its moral excellence. The poorest wretch who has a virtuous, sensible, industrious, and affectionate wife, is a man of wealth. Home is the abode of our children. Here they meet us with their smiles and prattle. He who unfeignedly enjoys this cannot be altogether corrupt; and the more we can make men enjoy it, the further do we remove them out of harm's way. No men therefore are better members of society, or more apt to become stable and wealthy citizens, than such as are well married and well settled.

A learned foreigner of Spanish descent, of high distinction in the politics of his own country, was once leaving the doors of a pleasant family, in New England, where he had been spending an evening. He had observed the Sabbath calm of the little circle-its sequestered safety and inde

pendence; he had marked the freedom of affectionate intercourse between parents, and children, and friends, the cordial hospitality, and the reference of every thing abroad to this central spot of home. As he retired from the lovely scene, he exclaimed, with a sort of transport, “Now I have the secret of your national virtue, and intelligence, and order; it is in these domestic retreats!"

"Domestic happiness, thou only bliss

Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
Though few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure,
Or, tasting, long enjoy thee! too infirm
Or too incautious to preserve thy sweets
Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup;
Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms
She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is,
Heaven-born, and destined to the skies again!"*

* Cowper.

2

II.

THE WORKING-MAN'S DWELLING.

"When we mean to build,

We first survey the plat, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,

Then must we vote the cost of the erection."

King Henry IV. part 2.

THERE is such a satisfaction in having a house of one's own, that most Americans begin to think of building as soon as they are rich enough. It is proverbial that this becomes a mania, even in the country, with men of wealth In quantity,

therefore, we have no lack; the defects are in the quality of our architecture. For want of observing the plain dictate of reason contained in my motto, many great houses are finished less splendidly than they were begun, As I seldom take a walk without seeing the dwelling of some mechanic going forward, I am anxious to make a few suggestions on this point.

A good site is almost every thing: in such a land as ours, few are compelled to build in bad situations. Yet half the houses we see in the country are disadvantageously placed. How little advantage is taken of native groves! I have in

my eye a very costly edifice, just near enough to a beautiful copse to tempt the belief that the proprietor wished to avoid its shades, while he is making a strenuous effort to bring forward some starveling trees in a miserable clay before his door! The general design is next in importance: this is what strikes the distant beholder. The eye is shocked when, in a clever building, the door has three windows on one side and five on the other. The proportions of length and height, the pitch of roof, the number, and size, and arrangement of lights, are all matters which demand careful study, in order to produce a good effect; but in most cases they are left to chance or whim. Symmetry is as cheap as disproportion, and rich men should not monopolize all neatness and taste. A good plan gives beauty to the plainest materials, while no expense can render a false proportion elegant. A well-designed cottage, of the humblest dimensions and simplest fabric, fills the eye, and gives repose to the mind. But finery cannot hide bad taste; it oftener betrays it. We may here apply Crabbe's couplet

"Faults that in dusty pictures rest unknown,

Are in an instant through the varnish shown."

Men who come suddenly to wealth are greatly in danger of falling into this trap. The showy in architecture is usually coupled with the vulgar; just as in dress the finest are not the truly well