New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1859-08-25
FROM NEWPORT.
CorrsspondeDee Of The N. Y. Tribune.

Corr.spoudenee Of The N. Y. Tribune.
NEWPORT, Aug. 81, 1859.
Facts are stubborn things; the most plastic hand
cannot twist them out of their diosyncrasies. Can
/ make stupid course of events amusing, or an
old story q new one Can Irvine pOetical gar
land, fresh and fragrant out of artificial flowers,
even with the help of the choicest essence o
Kiss. Me- Quick" or whatever new OdOr it de-
lights the world of fashion to exhsle! Can make
out of this tiresome routine of Newport life sub
ject fit for the gods and heroes of The TRIBUNE
No, cannot; for though the Island, in my view, be
WORTHY Of King in State or Poet in his youth"
my Newport is not your Newport. Mine car
only be celebrated in song lts peace,
beauty, and well-being can only be pictured in
poets words. The chopping sea OF prose would
spill so delicate q cargo. What sentences can de-
scribe these skies, whose vague beauties melt
into each other, each with a promise Of some
higher beauty still, which always comes, till,
stripped of all DISCUSSES, the red sun drops into
the water, and there is last glory, gorgeous aud
solemn as funeral fete, before the mourning Of
night How can words give you the breath of this
air, wrinl leeaciDg, caredestroyiDg, that lifts the
weight of twenty years from your back, add soothes
the sore nerves and ffetted sOull-it is Natures
lullaby. The world is made for toil-and show,
which covers swest-and fortune, which serves go
ciety more than the pOssessor-for yea, wrath and
desire, which are all servants OF God even when
the human master securely counts them as his
slaves But here, in Sumner, the great mother
grants you ali vacat0n-here, in dreams Of sea and
sky, aud green vista, she giyeth her beloved sleep.
Not every one is happy here. i see many vac,nt
faces aud some cross ones. One meets, every
afternoon, people in splendid barouches, who lean
back and gather themselves up in garment of
ungeniality which contrasts strangely with the
bright coOrs of the knitted carriage blanket. |
don't know what can be the matter with them;
perhaps they have had too much dinner or too
much wine-perhaps too much grandeur thrusts
itself upon them, and wealth and fancied position
impede and clog the very pulses of life. How easy
to prescribe for them: an honest mutton. chop q
glars of water, daily walk, a rOmp with some
bO5ys children, and, last aud hardest, an occasional
deed of beneyolence. But this medicine, homeO-
psthic as it seems, would be bitter draught to
some Of them, and the last pale Doctor, who comes
ursent for, and cures ALL will be the first TO make
change Ill their mode Of life
Luxury is the bsne of rich people, everywhere
and 1t is carried further nowhere than in Newport
Sumptuous dinners keep people from the lovely alter
noon driving, and send them abroad when the fair
est time is already past. The plain grocers' shops
blossom out in Sun mer into "Trn6ts Ia Perigora
"P0tf de foe gras, and other unhealthy delights
sealed up In tin, the canister shot of dyspepsia.
should think the New Workers could compare in
this respect, only with the ancient Romans. In
their importation of French fashions and French
manners, neither quite genuine, they have included
the deleterious article Of French cookery not the
whole some dishes Of the cuisine Bourgeoise, with
lie coed pot aG teu and its excellent arrangement
of meat and vegetables. 1t is the cooking Of the
French restaurants that our friends adopt when
Notwithstanding, expensive, and receivable
into clements Of grease and garlic which would
shock the unsophistcated sense could they be seen
in their natural forms. II We shold invite these
people to repast al fresco in our fayorits retreat
TRIBUNE, DO you think they would be satisfied
with the sandwiches, cold chicken, aud coffee,
with which you and / and the children would
be more than pleased "a bottle of ale or
light wine cooling in the running stream
and the everpreseDt Horace saying the wittest
and sweetest things about contentment simple life
and manners, and dipping into the paternsl salt
cellar, which should like very much ~ DO if it
were possible We sit late at this dinner, not be-
cause We eat long, but because We talk much, and
dream, when We have done talking, to the sound of
the brook and the little chirpngs and Autterings
Of insects unknown. We are quite ready for q
ramble afterWard, and all part at length with tho