Litchfield enquirer., 1848-01-06

watck The shores all around are inden
 ted into fairy prrmontories, and rise in the tAost beautiful slopes that ever gave birth l6 world of wilS flowers. Close hv. tke waters of "Hell Gate" toss up l their aonm, and sparkle in the sunshine, and in the purple distance sleeps many a scene of rural levelinpss that is more than sarcad'an in it's rural beauty. Yet with all this beauty slumbering around, there stood the gallows tree-,here looms the Insane Asylum, and there the black Pcniteniiary is sequestered like s'.me 1 loaihsome monster upon the spot which was many years since perfect .iangle oi sweat lbi jar and swamp roses.
 AmA wrong then in saying tllaAonthis little ssip-uf earth is kneaded together more of human wretehcdness than can be found ia the same space throughout the length and breadth of our land. The moment yorr foot touches the shore you feel oppressed with the crowd of feelings that seem inex plicnbie--pity, horror, and painful blending of both crowd upon tho heart with every breath you draw Nolhipg but the air seems free-no'hing but the blue sky above seems pure as, you walk from one scene of distress toaanoih, CT, You feel the more oppressed because human effort seems so powerless to alle> viate ahe misery you witness. All that humanity can accomplsh--all that syrn- ready extended by those who are en,rus- ted to regulate he charities of great city-hui what can minister to a mind dIseased! What can take away the de- formity- and the sting of guilt! Where lies the power to If. pauperism from the dcgrada,ion that the naughty aud cvii spirit of man has flung around il3 The very heart grows faint as it beats in this wilderness of wee. and finds no fitting answer toqucst;ons like those.
 But there is still one remnant ofheau'iful na~ lure left on Rackwells Island-one spot where the flowers are yet left to bloom in the pure breath of Heaven-where the trees are vel rooted Co the earth, and filled, as of old with the music of Summer birds. On the veiy cen tre the island is an old mansion house, for merly ihe residence of it's proprietor before the paradise became city property. It is a rams blng old building, with wings of unequal length shaded with some magnificent old willows, and surrounded by shrubberies, pretty lawns. sha- ded with fine old irees-terraces, beautifully lifted from the waters edge-the gravel walks, with here and there grape arbor flung over them, and bordcred with some Of the thickcst and heaviest box 10 be found within ton miles around. 4 neglected and rude old place it is, but perhaps the more lovely for that. Neglect only seems to add to the wild luXuriance of every thing around, :he hedges and rose thick7 cts aie tangled together. Great Snow-ball trees, trumpet vines, and honeysuckles seem to shoot out more vigorously from want of pru- ming, and the tree. have become dressed in the majesty of their age. .-...- .
 You can stand in the old hati and see the river OH either hand sparkling through the 1 spreading branches--now and then snow white sail glides by, and at sunset the water seem. heaving up waves of gold wherever your eye is | turned
 This is the Children's Hospital. In the lew 1 chambers, and the fine old fashioned rooms 1 from hundred and fifty to two hundred chil. dren lie upon their little cots, in all the stages of suffering to which infancy is subject. Oh it is a moumlul sighf,-those hel bless little creatures, orphaned, or worse than orphaned in the morning of life, Their wasted feature: wearing such looks of pain, and yet so p'ant God help them!
 The physician in this hospital is relative 8my own, and many heart ache has 1t glver me 10 watch the frightening of those little fa- ces, as he or the good matron pass into tho the wards, min;stering to their comiort-poo things, by a kind look and soothing word where medicine might often less avail. Strange manifestations of character have I witnessed huiChS tuNsC IbllS thA might have shaned warrier-patience. th most saint-like-and again, but why should dwell upon, the evil that sometimes exhibits II self, full grown. in the heart of an infant Bu there was one little child. whose history, sim. pie as it is, yet to me, full of touching interest am aoout to relate. There is no romance 1T it-nothing to exciie, but still think the req der will not turn away from what have to tel of poor little Johny, without feeling of sym pathy. sigh, perhaps a tear shed nor than one when they told me that his little col m rested among the dead heaped together Il Potrei's Field.
 We had gone up to spend an affern oon will my relatives, and were sitting out upon inc pi azza that runs along the front Of the hospital enjoying the delicious fragrance that came u from the shrubberies, rnd speaking. now an' then. word to group of little crippled ehIi dren that were lying around the steps, whe the commissioner's boat, from the Aims hous at Bellevue. came in sight, with two or thre of the young physicians of that institution o