Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-07-07
From The SOlttheTn Homestead
The Poetry of Machinery.
BY L. VIRGINIA FRENCH.

HONEST SANCHo, we are told upon relia-
BILE authority, pronounced his grateful bene-
dicite upon 1.-THE man who invented sleep"
But weary womanhood, in this our day,
bestows her thankful blessing upon the
man who invented" the SEWING MACHINE,
and thereby afforded her the time to
"sleep." And not only time to sleep, but
to liue to enjoy that existence which God
has intended not as an endurance, but a
blessing.
Woman, "Heaven's last, best gift to
man." has reason to love and reverence
that inventive genius which created this
"last, best gift Z" of man, to her necessities.
1t is the very poetry of machinery. In
more than one sense is the :" Iron Needle
woman" poet of the highest order. Not
only is it a thing of beauty" in the SIM
plicity and harmony of its mechanism, in
the delicacy AID precision of the work it
accomplshes. and in the rapidity and grace
full ease of its action-but it is destined to
become "a Joy forever" in that which it
is the real benefactor,-the true elevator
of Woman.
| now fully realize the feeling of the
friend who once said to me, in reference to
the Sewing Machine, al almost lone the
little pet who has lifted such a burden of
care from the heart of my WIFE" Yes
whenever 1 sit down by my Little
Brownie" | feel like passing my hand car
essingly over it's smooth shining surface,
somewhat as pat the neck Of favorite
pony, or stroke softly the forehead of a
faithful Newfoundland do not know
that can explain why, yet cannot bring
myself to look upon it as a wholly soul
less thing without soul it must surely
be endowed with a spirit,-some dainty
Ariel" which is confined in its casket like
Prospcro's delicate messenger in the ''clo
ven pine" or the Genius in the BraZen
Vase. of the old Arabian tale. l cannot
divest myself of the idea that it is "pos-
sessed' of some 'trickey spirit" who
has mission" and who knows it as
well,-who whirls on the tiny wheels, and
slides on the little planes, and rides jaun-
tily astride the dainty lever, all the time
peering up into your eyes with an elvish
SMILE and laughing in its kind, little heart,
to see how dearly you appreciate its servi-
ccs. 1t must have a spirit-a spirit of
Joy too, for it takes away from us, we can
not tell how, all the humdrum Of sewing.
We feel that some darling little utiiitarian
Puck is there, working and singing, and
laughing at us,-and SO we laugh too
why should we not be gay together, and
have a merry bit OF 'confab" all to our
selves? On it goes, dotting down the
delicate stitches, -(no more "weary"
stitches now, faster than seven pair of
human hands could possibly do, be they
ever so nimble, all the while singing its
busy humming song-whose sound carries
you back to the old time when the spinning
wheel hummed under the then fairy foot
of some dear. good Grandmother - but
whose spirit-cadence launches you away,
away into the far Future, and reveals
through unfolding clouds, gfmpses of the
sun-bright destiny Of Woman
But the "Iron Needle-woman" is not
so much poet in herself as in her effects.
IT. Gas some one has defined the word,)
poet is creator Of the beautiful then,
who among the proud sons of men can
dare to assume the rank of our little
Brownie ?'' She is to be the poet who
will create for Woman, health, and beauty.
Independence, and liberty. Emancipated
from the slavery Of that Cyclopean tyrant,
the Needle, who can place the boundary to
her development? The marrow view"
of some that the Sewing Machine will be
the destroyer OF the Sewing Girl" needs
but a second glance, to prove its truth. In
one sense it is so. 1t will one day annihi-
late from the face of our country, that libel
on all true freedom-the poor, pallid, spir-
itIess, suffering creature-the Sewing
Girl" Thank God that we are vouch.
saied this beautiful, this eyer-brightening
hope Would to Heaven that it might be
realized this very hour-that the thousands
of dropping spirits who have no hope in
this world, and no heart, no time to hope
in the hereafter. might be filled with the
glad tidings, Behold the day of your
deliverance is at hand p' The well-known
trumpet-note to the Christian who Ian
guished in the dungeon Of the Infidel--the
swelling Marsellaise to the PROSTATE liber-
ties Of Fance,-the wild slogan of the
Highlanders, which was caught by the ear
OF brave Jessie Brown, at Lucknow,-what
sweet, what stirring sounds they were
but dull aud cold, and meaningless to that
tocsin- peal which shall proclaim freedom,
and the souls salvation TO the prisoned.
PROSTATE. starving kumGn Sewing Machines
of America Would that they as an IN
stitution." full Of racks and horrors as the
Spanish Inquisition, might pass away for
ever, and be known only TO our children as
hat lnquisition is 10 us.-a dream Of
dread. Ia terrible tradition. Speed the
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