Have we not steam for a Pegasus, lightning for a postman, and the glorious sun for an artist to help, or rather hurry onward, the work of improvement in all material things? and free institutions, free schools, and a free press, to aid, or rather force, mental development! and the open Bible, the Christian Sabbath, and the preached gospel to enlighten the soul!
Nothing seems wanting but heavenward faith and human endeavor.
Women have much, very much to do in this work. Home is the centre of happiness; the cradle of every heroic man is tended by woman's angel care; his soul bears the impress of her kindly teachings, as the daguerreotype plate shows the kiss of the sun in the picture it calls forth. Every mother should aim to make her son worthy of living in the "good time," and then it will be.
Oh, but there are terrible evils to suffer—evils that will forever surround humanity—poverty, pain, death! Can we have the "good time" on earth, while these inevitable evils haunt us?
Death is not an evil to the good, but only the seal of eternal, unchangeable blessedness. Poverty may be made the means of increased and exquisite happiness to society, when the true principles of Christian charity, and brotherly love, and gratitude are universally observed. Disease will lose most of its malignity when God's laws, impressed on our physical nature, are understood and obeyed; and pain has been mitigated, indeed, nearly annihilated, by the wonderful discovery of etherization, which seems now providentially brought to the aid of suffering humanity, so that all classes of mankind might find cause for rejoicing in the "good time." The aid of this Lethean balm in banishing the horrors of the hospital, can hardly be over-estimated; the merits of the discovery are yet but partially acknowledged; we must leave these themes to the medical corps—but the good results on humanity our sex ought most thankfully to acknowledge. This thought reminds us of a duty we owe our readers—an introduction to the home of one who has most certainly done his part towards helping on the "good time." The paper has been delayed for want of room; but it shall go in now, as a fit tribute for the New Year.
Etherton Cottage—A Visit there.—Our readers will remember an engraving of this beautiful cottage in our March number of last year. We gave then a slight sketch of the discovery of Etherization, and of the struggles through which Dr. W. T. G. Morton had fought his way onward to the completion of his great purpose; and how he had proved, by the testimony of the most honored members of the Medical profession in Massachusetts, his right to claim the discovery of the "Anæsthetic and pain-subduing qualities of Sulphuric Ether." But great scientific discoverers, like great poets, are not always as happy at home as they are celebrated abroad. Fame is not always, we are sorry to say, synonymous with domestic felicity. Those who unite both, deserve amaranths among their laurels, and both are deserved by the owner of Etherton Cottage, as we think our lady friends will agree, when they go with us to that pleasant home, where we had the pleasure of spending a day during our last summer tour in New England.
West Needham, notwithstanding its poor prosaic name, is really a pretty, pastoral-looking place, surrounded by low, wooded hills, protecting, as it were, the fine farms and orchards, and the pleasant dwellings, everywhere seen in the valleys and on the uplands around. In twenty minutes after leaving the bustle of Boston, if the cars make good speed, you will reach this rural scene, where Nature still holds her quiet sway, except when the steam-horse goes snorting and thundering by.
Here, in the heart of this still life, Doctor Morton, some seven years ago, selected an uncultivated lot, covered with bushes, brambles, and rocks, and, by his own science and taste, and the strong arm of Irish labor, he has formed a home of such finished beauty as would seem to require, at least, in its gardens and grounds, a quarter of a century to perfect. His grounds slope down to the railroad embankment; but a plantation of young trees, and on the height above, thick groves, of a larger growth, hide the buildings from view as the cars pass on this great route from Boston to the West. From the station it is a pleasant drive through the shaded and winding way as you ascend the rising grounds to the south. Suddenly turning a shoulder of the knoll, Etherton Cottage is before you. The effect was fine, and what made the scene more interesting to us was the presence of another cottage nestled near by, smaller but equally pleasant-looking, where we knew Dr. Morton had settled his good parents. Here they live as one household, and from the windows of Etherton Cottage may be seen the dwelling of another member of the family, a sister, now happily married, for whom the Doctor also cared.
We might give a long description of these pretty cottages and beautiful grounds, but words are wasted to little purpose in landscape or architectural descriptions. So leaving the walks, arbors, flowers, and fountains, we will introduce you at once to Mrs. Morton, a lady whose attractions and merits we had heard much praised while in Washington last winter. She is, indeed, one of those true women who seem born to show that Solomon's old picture of a good wife and mother may now be realized. The Doctor seems very fond and proud of her, as he may well be; and their children—the eldest a girl of nine, the youngest a boy of three years, with a brother and sister between—formed a lovely group of more interest to us than all the "superb views" around. So we will just tell you, dear reader, of the family and their home pursuits, as these were revealed to us during that interesting visit.
We should say here that Doctor Morton has relinquished his profession, and now passes his summers entirely at this country residence, and his winters in Washington, where he hopes soon to gain from Congress some reward for his great discovery of Etherization. When this is granted, he intends visiting Europe, where he is urgently invited by the savans of the Old World. It will be a triumph for Young America to send forth a man so young, who has won such distinction. It seemed but a few years since we first saw Willie Morton, a clerk in the publisher's office where our own magazine was issued; and now we were his guest, in his own elegant dwelling, surrounded by every requisite of happiness.