The Belmont chronicle, and farmers, mechanics and manufacturers advocate. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1848-1855, 1853-01-28

tion-they could never wait to see the whea
that is sown this autumn, harvested mex
summer. They would be off to Californi,
before it was half grown. Our young mer
are almost all gone TO California or 10 Oregon
This coutry is grown too old for them.
We are proud of our generosity; eastern
people flatter us upon that point; but | hope
you don't guess how extravagant and cares.
we are. We love new things so much thai
the sooner we can destroy the old ones, the
better. We must be fine and new no matter
what they cost. A young lady with nc
known means Of support, save the charity o
distant relative, will dress as fine as q
princess; and young man whose salary is
no more than S4 week, will spend that all
on Saturday, to take some cury-headed
schoolgirl buggy riding. Oh, we are very
extravagant! We don't think of home and
the rainy day; and we are very destructive
too destructive by far to know anything about
real neatness. And what do we restless
beings care for home! True, we love to
build a fine house, and astonish the natives,
with our grandeur; but in order 10 be able to
Go this, we will live in hovel three-fourtbs
of our time, without tree to shade US, or
yield us its delicious fruits. 'Tis not the
home we care for: we'd much rather have fine
clothes.
All, do love progress; love activity and
life; l love the strides of human genius to-
wards improving human surroundings and
means of elevation. am far from clinging
to sold error as better than new truth" But
oh! my ear is panied, my soul is sick We
American people are a glorious people, Cat
least in our own estimation) but must we in
our overwhelming rage for progress, trample
under foot all the holest affections of the
heart! Must that love of home, which is
justly ranked as next to love of God, become
an obsolete passion--a forgotten thing! Must
all those cherished objects, SO closely knit
up with this love, as portions Of the house,
hold altar, be set up at vendue, to give place
to new French fashions! Must "the old oak"
be cut up as frewood to make room for some
foreign tree OF puny, snowy growth! Must
the old family bible be resigned to rats and
m,ce in the garret, that a splendidly embel-
llshed and gilded copy of the Holy Book may
lie upon the table! 1.-The old arm chair" in
which our grandfather sat, and our mother
breathed her last, must this be thrown aside,
and broken into fragments, as an ugly thing!
Oh, [ love refinement, | love care and
elegance, but give me home, aye home
wherein to rest my weary soul. Let us hear
the dear old clock tick from the same corner
where my grandfather us"d to look through
his glasses to see if yet the hour for meeting;
let me see the cat upon the hearth, and the
house-dog in the door-yard. Let some of the
neat home made rag carpet be left, to tell
of the thrift and tidness of those we loved;
let the comfortable oaken furniture still invite
our wearied limbs; let the old orchard still
yield its golden store.
If we have not old homes-homes mads
sacred by those whom we have loved, and
who have passed away, let our new homes
be HOMES, and not show. houses. But of this,
more in future. My letter is too long already.
Yours, as ever,
SARAH COATES HARRIS.
Galena, Illinois, November IA, 1852.