Daily American telegraph., 1852-07-13

nues, and the city is so shady, that it is called
the Forest City.
From Cleveland went by railroad again to
Hudson, where there is a fine college. From
Hudson to Massillon, passing several lesser
towns by the way Massillon is thriving lit
tie town. through which the canal passes But
what interested me most was their new pub
lie school-house, which is built in a large grove
OF forest trees, which makes everything so
fresh and cool and pleasant for the children.
DO you ever think how much happier you are
Tor the green trees, shrubs, and flowers that
surround youE # you have not think of it
now, and never destroy a tree or shrub in pub
lc grounds, or anywhere where people wish
them to grow. Remember if you break win
dow or fence, that the carpenter or glazier
can mend it in little time; but if YOU iniure
or deface tree, it will take months, perhaps
years, to remedy the evil do not, then be wan
ton with such things. From Massillon | went
to Canton, where | visited the common schools,
and saw four or five hundred boys and girls,
and heard them sing | wish every teacher
would learn the children to sing, don't you?
But here there were not such nice shady trees,
besides the little shool-house was ON the street.
But the little boys and girls who loved the
works Of the Creator brought bouquets of flowers
for their teachers, and thus they showed the
the rooms; this was very nice indeed.
From Massillon | went through Salem to
New Brighton. New Brighton is where Sarah
Jane Clarke's mother lives, Grace Greenwood,(
who sometimes writes such pretty stories for
you. When the cars stopped, heard a dread
full noise, as if some one was trying to sing a
negro melody, with lis mouth full of ginger
bread; at first did not get up, but the sound
was SO loud and singular, that | at last put my
head out of the window, and there was a little
fellow should think seven years DID, singing
so loud and hard that he looked as if he was
choking, and the froth was oozing from the
corners of his mouth. He could not speak plain,
but you could tell that he was singing
"My aunt Sally
Lives way down in Shnbone Aley.''
! noticed that the passengers were throwing
him coppers, half dimes, and dimes; and won
dered they would do so, for his noise was terri
bic. But when he came by our car discover
ed that he was Informed, and could not speak
plain, and had eight las near as could count)
toes on each foot and eight fingers upon each
hand. This explained the whole matter; they
| told me he sang there every time the cars
stopped, and thus collected money of passing
travellers to support himself and mother. Poor
boy | was glad to give him a half dime with
the rest, as the cars whirled away.
Oh how cheerful you who are healthy and
strong should be; how earnest to learn, and to
work, and to fit yourselves for life and all it's
duties If you ever feel like complaining over
your lessons or your labors, think of this poor
deformed boy, who cannot work or even talk.
From New Brighton we were soon whirled
through to Pittsburgh, the great smoky city
and engines, and chimneys and boilers, fol
steamboats,. But | must close this letter ano
perhaps will tell you in my next something
about the big engines at the water works, anc
the nail factories, and the glass works Bu
goodbye now. Yours AUNT FANNY