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a pinch of his nose. A few lessons will, in most cases, check it. With a heavy carriage behind, this fault is not much consequence, its only effect being, possibly, the breaking of a trace, unless a very strong one; but, in a light vehicle, the violent snatch is very unpleasant, and it is quite worth the trouble of curing, or, at least, attempting to cure.

It is frequently found that horses, on receiving any indication to stop, will do so suddenly, creating an unpleasant sensation to those within the carriage. Old Donington, the race-horse, did something similar-he knew as well when he had passed the winning-post as did his jockey, and, winning or losing, would, if permitted to do so, stop as if he was shot, and, with a jockey who did not know this propensity, would very likely unseat him. The only way was to threaten him with the whip, and thus keep him going till he stopped gradually like other horses. The horse that does the same thing in harness must be kept up to his collar, by feeling the whip till the carriage is smoothly and gradually brought to a stop.

The Home Circle.

For the New York Coach-maker's Magazine. AMY GLENN'S VISION.

BY LUA DELINN, OF CINCINNATI, OHIO.

"ALMOST three!" said Amy Glenn, in a troubled tone, as she drew up a chair beside the kitchen table and spread her writing materials before her. "I staid at home to-day expressly to write an article for 'The,' and now at three, it is not commenced. Here's the poem for 'The Weekly I can't more than finish that, but it will be something accomplished." Then, after a moment's thought, her pen began to move rapidly over the paper.

"Why, Amy, how long it takes you to wash up a few dishes, and put things to rights," called out old Mr. Glenn, from the next room, to his granddaughter. "Are n't you most through, out there?"

"O dear!" thought Amy, "I might as well have accepted Sarah's invitation. I should, at least, have spent a pleasant day, and should have written quite as much. If I could only have a fire in my own room, I shouldn't hear when any one called me." "Twas but momentary, this selfish feeling. Laying down her pen, and closing her portfolio, she hastened to the side of the old man, and said, “Can I do anything for you, Gran'pa, I'm ready now."

"I want you to read this paper to me. You needn't read all-just begin on the first page, and name all the captions through, I'll tell you which to read." Amy took the paper, a mammoth sheet, and read, "Selected Poetry. I think this is something very fine: shall I read it?"

No;

I don't care for the poetry. Strange that they crowd out other matter with such trash: go on. "African Colonization.' A long speech before some society: covers nearly a page. Don't call for that, gran'pa; you're in favor of the scheme, now." "Well, just read a little of it: I'll tell you when to stop. My views, exactly," said Mr. Glenn, when the last sentence of the speech was concluded. "There are a few sober-minded men left yet, it seems. What next?" And the "Present Administration" was re

viewed in an article of three or four columns. "The Governor's Message." "I'd like to have the gist of the matter; when I've heard enough, I'll call for the next." So Amy read on, column after column, till the last was ended, and gran'pa Glenn was asleep in his easy chair.

"Amy," said gran'ma Glenn, "I wish I had some more yarn: I've just knit up the last, and I feel so lost without any knitting-work."

"There is a store on the next square: I'll go and get you some."

"No! they always keep the smoothest and best at Smith's. I must have it from there, if anywhere; but then it's so far to go for a little yarn," and the old lady looked anxiously at her granddaughter. "You hadn't better go 'way down there, had you? though, to be sure, the walk isn't anything for you, so young and strong." For a moment Amy hesitated. She thought of the unfinished poem and other promised articles not yet commenced; but, another moment, and she started up, saying pleasantly, "I'll get it for you," and left the room.

went.

"Gran'ma is so much better satisfied to have it from Smith's, and it didn't take me so very long; I'm glad I But this evening shall be mine at all events. We'll have supper early, and I'll have a nice long time to myself." But Amy "reckoned without her host." It is true she had supper over early, but then her attention was claimed by the different members of the family. First, there was Gran'ma. She was going to foot a pair of socks, but her eyes were old and she couldn't see to take up the stitches. "Amy hadn't anything else to do, had she?" Then, when the stitches were taken up, sister Belle was crying over her problems in Algebra. Amy's sympathies were at once aroused. Mathematics, in all its branches, had been the one great trial of her life at school. The pages of Algebraic characters, which had so much interest for some of her schoolmates, were to her suggestive only of the grinning teeth of a skeleton.

she

She took the slate, carefully examined the work, and pointed out its errors, then, bidding her sister commence anew, watched her till the whole problem was solved, explaining at every step what she remembered had once perplexed herself.

"Amy, if you're done helping Belle, won't you help me write my composition? I can't think of one word to say."

It was the first time the little Anne had ever attempted to put her thoughts on paper, and the task seemed to her most difficult. Her teacher had unwisely sought to impress the mind of the beginner with "the great importance of knowing how to write good compositions." No wonder, then, that the little girl was frightened at the greatness of her task, and that she didn't dare to express her simple little thoughts in her own childish way. She had been left to choose her own subject, but had been required to "write, at least, a page and a half." How could she do it, she asked, when she couldn't make a single thought to begin with. She remembered that some of the older girls had written on "The Advantages of a Good Education," so she had chosen that for her subject.

Amy took the child into her lap, saying "Wait a few minutes, my pet, and let me rest; you know I've been thinking so hard about Belle's Algebra lesson. But you may talk to me all the time as fast as you please; you may tell me all you saw this morning on your way to school." Anne, not suspecting her sister's object, and never thinking it was a matter of "importance," told in an artless manner

all she had seen at every step of the way, and what she had thought about it all. Many subjects for thought are presented in a walk of a few squares, and a child notices everything, and thinks about it, too. Amy was interested in the child's narration, and even Belle looked up from her problems, and listened to it all. "Now, Anne," said Amy, "take this paper and pencil and write that down just as you told it to me. It will cover more than a page and a half." "Why, Amy, that isn't of any importance: it's only what I saw, and what a little girl like me thought. Miss Jones don't want that." But Amy assured her it was the right kind of "composition" for a little girl to write. "O! if that is all, I'll never make a fuss about it again. Isn't it easy?"

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"said Belle, "I guess,' some of the other girls would think so, too, if they had our Amy to help them; but Miss Jones frightens them so, when they begin, that they never get over it. Writing essays is for them a greater trial than even Mathematics is to us, Amy."

"If it is easy for you, Belle, you know how to help them," was the quiet reply.

It was not until eight o'clock that Gran'pa and Gran'ma Glenn withdrew for the night, leaving "the children" to themselves, and Amy was at liberty to resume her pen. She turned to the unfinished poem-the last thought, which had seemed to her a very happy one, was but half expressed, and she could not take it up where she had left it. Then she determined to write, at least, a short chapter of the article she had promised for the next number of "The Ladies' ," but, as Anne had expressed it, she "couldn't make a single thought to begin with." Weary and discouraged, she dropped her pen, threw herself into her grandfather's easy chair, and gave up to the sad feelings against which she had struggled all day. She had been invited to meet several persons, whose acquaintance she valued highly, at the house of a very dear friend. Her sisters, even the grandparents, and, more than all, her own inclination had urged her to go; but, thinking that by staying at home she could, under all the circumstances, claim the day as peculiarly her own, she had declined the invitation.

But the day had passed, and she had done nothing towards fulfilling her literary engagements. All her time had been spent in doing little things for this one or that one; nothing of any importance, that would show for itself nor yet any thing to speak of only little things. It was thus her whole life was passing. She felt that she was capable of exerting a wide influence, that she had the power to do much good, and her spirit was continually fretting itself into fury because she could not control the circumstances which prevented her from using that power. Had it been necessary for her to toil for her own support, and that of the family, she would have done it uncomplainingly. She was willing to make great sacrifices to promote the happiness of those around her.

[Are there not many like Amy Glenn, who, in their anxiety to do good on a grand scale, forget that "trifles make the sum of human things?"]

At first she had not sought notoriety; it came to her and she sadly accepted it as an earnest of what the distant future had in store for her. From that time her anxiety to do good was blended with a desire for her own aggrandizement. No wonder, then, if she felt that she was "living to no purpose."

"O Amy, it's so easy, mayn't I write another to-morrow night ?" But Amy did not answer, and the little one, sinking down by her side, gently rested her head upon her sister's lap, and was soon dreaming of her morning walk. Belle's work was done, and she, too, wandered away into the "Land of Dreams."

It was a beautiful being that Amy saw in her visionsuch a one as we never see but in dreams, and seldom then. She held a coronet all glittering with precious gems, and her eye seemed vainly searching for a brow which might wear it worthily. At length she spoke. "I am commissioned to seek her whose mission has been most blest to the children of earth, and place this crown upon her brow in token of that with which the King of the Universe Himself shall crown her, in that day when she with the people of all nations shall be presented at His Court. My sister, what sacrifice hast thou made for the good, or the happiness of thy fellow-mortals?"

She to whom this question was addressed presented a long catalogue of the Colleges she had endowed, the Church edifices which had been reared at her bidding, and showed her name first on the list of those who had given largely to the benevolent enterprises of the day.

"Of this one shall be written, 'She gave of her abundance," and Amy saw another form of celestial beauty, penning the words which the first had spoken.

The next one had no gold to give, but she had offered up herself; it was a sacrifice not too great, if she might thus be the means of doing good to the benighted souls in a heathen land. A widowed mother had been left toiling, in her old age, for the support she had expected at her daughter's hands.

"Mistaken sense of duty!" said the angel in a saddened tone, "yet make kindly mention of her;" and the other wrote, "She has grievously erred, but it was done, perchance, in the integrity of her heart." This record was scarcely made, when another came forward, unsummoned, to urge her claim.

"I," she said, "have labored in behalf of the wronged-the oppressed. I have thrown off the trammels which so long have bound my sex, and have stood forth boldly as an advocate of woman's rights. Yes, I have lifted up the standard against the tyrant, man, who has denied us the right of suffrage, and who would even deprive us of that prerogative which woman ever holds the dearest-the right of 8-p-e-e-c-h. I have remembered, too, the wrongs of the down-trodden slave. It has been the aim of my life to promote Liberty and Equality, in its largest sense." The Recording Angel was forbidden to mention this one as a competitor for the crown. That would only be awarded to the woman who had best fulfilled the duties of woman's sphere.

The next one, supposing there was no work in particular marked out for her to do, had constituted herself a supervisor-in-general over all the rest, giving smiles of approval to those whose lives accorded with her notions of right, but causing others to writhe under the sting of her satire. The only boon she dared to ask was, that the leaves so blotted might be forgotten, and a new page in the Book of Life be granted her.

"Write that she is repentant," said the angel; "we can only commend her to the mercy of the All-Merciful. Now, trembler, I will listen to thy plea."

"I have none to offer. My lot hath been a humble one,

affording me no opportunity to perform any great deeds, such as would stamp me worthy to wear the crown."

"But I would judge for myself. Give me a faithful record of thy daily life."

"Perhaps I have suffered myself to be cumbered with too many cares; but there was so much that could be done to make home happy to the dear ones who clustered round its hearth, that there was little time left for the cultivation of those shining virtues which would fix the world's attention, increase my influence, and enlarge my sphere of usefulness; yet there were spare moments, and in these I was able to do some little acts to make the present bright, though they had no bearing on the future. Once, a poor wanderer crossed my path-one who, faint and weary, was fleeing from oppression. A cup of sparkling water and a plentiful supply of food I gladly proffered, then pointed out the guiding star, and the poor fugitive went on his way rejoicing. If a little child grieved over a broken plaything, or a broken promise which some thoughtless friend had made him, I could easily make him forget to cry, and render him happy as before. Once in a while I would put a patch on a little dress for the orphan grandchild of an old lady, who was very poor and had none to help her, or, perhaps, even my slender wardrobe could supply a better. Then, too, I could, somehow, win my way into the confidence of those who seemed to have lost all confidence in humanity. I have never found a door closed against me, and you know an open door must admit the sunlight." Enough! enough!" and the angel placed the shining circlet on the bowed head, and the Recording Angel wrote: "She hath done what she could."

66

The vision passed, and with it all the ambitious dreams that Amy had been cherishing for years. She is awake now to the realities of life-its duties and its responsibilities, and those, who see how nobly she meets them all, know that Amy Glenn is "living to some purpose."

Who shall say that that was but the dream of an idle hour, or doubt that angels are full often sent to impart to us, in our slumbers, the lessons we might never heed in our waking hours?

For the New York Coach-Maker's Magazine.

EVENING.

SLOW fading in the crimsoned sky,
The sun has reached the distant west,
And warbling songsters they have sought
The silent grove for nightly rest.
Oh how I love, at such an hour,

To tread the summit of yon hill,
And catch the last pale glimmering ray
That leaves the evening calm and still.

I love the dew-drops, scattered round
By evening, in her smiling pride—
I love to view the moon's pale beam,
Reflected in the rolling tide.

I love to hear the cricket's song,
Breathed forth in animated strains-
To hear Philomela's plaintive notes,
Sweet, echoing from my native plains.
At this glad hour I'll nature join,
In joyous accents loud and long-
My evening sacrifice shall rise

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Pen Illustrations of the Drafts.

For the New York Coach-maker's Magazine.

THE FLORAL PHETON.

Illustrated on Plate XXXIV.

MR. EDITOR-Dear Sir: As you sent me an English design to make a practical draft from, and I could not succeed, I laid it aside and designed this, as something equally extravagant, but not impracticable. As I am determined not to put any draft on the block without testing its practicability, I hope this will be a sufficient excuse for my not using the design sent me.

This body can be made by putting a solid carved side on the rockers, or, by making a swelled-side body, and cutting the carved work out of thin stuff, and glueing it on before it is carved. I should be in favor of the latter. The body-loops can be spliced in the centre under the door: they would be easier handled.

I should think coach-carvers would be likely to encourage this kind of a job. J. IRVING.

THE HUNTING BUGGY. Illustrated on Plate XXXV.

The hunting-buggy, by some denominated a dog-cart, and illustrated on Plate 35 of this volume, we have copied from the Mercure Universel, where the credit of the design is given to the Louisianians. Such may be the fact, or it may not; still, it is so finely designed that we think it will be received by our readers as being very creditable to its originator, be he either American or French. We think, however, that, with some alterations, the draft could be much improved.

In the first place, the seat in front is far from exhibiting the American idea of such a "fixture." By substituting a stick-seat for the clumsily constructed one given, we think it would be a great improvement, and give the vehicle a lighter and more tasteful appearance. The vehicle is so very plain and simple that there will be little necessity left for any further explanatory remarks.

As apropos to what we have above said, we would here add, that the French in particular are very apt to call vehicles of their own originating "Americaine," when, in fact, we have had no more to do with them than the man in the moon. Of this we find reason to complain since the parentage of many of the "foundlings" thrust upon us is not very creditable to any nation.

SUMMER PHETON.

Illustratad on Plate XXXVI.

The draft found on the plate above-named is partially described on page 199 of this volume, under the head of "Scale Drafting as applicable to carriages," which article the reader is referred to. The design, by our friend Mr. Irving, is so well drawn, that it will not be necessary to occupy our columns with lengthened details. We consider it to be one of the finest drafts we have furnished in this work, although we have presented some good ones before, the product of his hand.

Sparks from the Anvil.

SWAN'S-NECK HANGING-OFF IRONS.

For the New York Coach-maker's Magazine.

NEWLY INVENTED BENCH VISE.

IN using the vise as commonly made, the artisan finds a great deal of trouble in getting taper, conical or irregular shaped articles properly held while finishing them. With the view of obviating such difficulty, Messrs. Easterbrook & Allcard, of Sheffield, England, have provided a vise well adapted to holding them securely, no matter how tapering the work may be.

Fig1.

B

Fig. 2.

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Fig. 1 is a side view of the new vise, and Fig. 2 a plan, showing it holding a piece of tapered work. Here A is the fixed, and B the movable jaw, the latter terminating at the lower end in a spherical ball C, nicely fitted into a corresponding socket in the vise foot. The binding screw for the jaws operates through a similar ball and socket action at the top, hence the ball and socket C, at the bottom, allows of plenty of motion for the jaws of the vise, adjusting itself to the required form, as may be seen in the plan, Fig. 2.

POLISHING AND BLUEING IRON AND STEEL. There has recently been secured in England a patent for polishing, blueing and annealing iron, by Alfred V. Newton, which, when known, may prove useful to our readers. After the iron or steel is rolled or hammered into the proper shape, and becomes cool, it is steeped in a bath of sulphuric acid and water to remove the scale, just as has long been practiced in foundries with different kinds of castings. Having, by immersion, removed the scale, the iron or steel is afterwards washed, to carry off the free acid. Although this process may leave the article a little honeycombed, still it will be bright. Afterwards, the articles to be operated upon are placed between smooth iron rollers, and submitted to great pressure, which renders them perfectly polished, with smooth and bright surfaces. For this purpose Mr. Newton employs chilled rollers, which are made perfectly true, so as not to leave any mark upon the polished articles. This pressure between the rollers has the

effect to pack the fibres of the metal very firmly together, and makes it so hard that it is capable of withstanding the corrosive action of the weather in a remarkable degree.

To give this polished metal, above described, a blue appearance, it is only necessary to plunge it into a bath of melted lead, where it is held for about five minutes. This process not only gives the article a blue color, but also anneals it. This procedure is said to greatly improve the qualities of iron.

CONNECTICUT IRON AND STEEL.

As early as 1734, attention seems to have been given to the working of the iron mines at Salisbury, Conn. Philip Livingston, of Albany, N. Y., and others, had granted them a patent of one hundred acres of the State lands of Connecticut, to assist and encourage them in their enterprise. They immediately commenced to manufacture iron from the bed of ore they had discovered there, which, as everybody knows, has maintained a high reputation as possessing superior qualities for toughness and other natures most desirable in iron. Six years previous to this (1728), steel had been made by Samuel Higley, of Simsbury, and Joseph Dewey, of Hebron, for which undertaking they prayed for a patent, to prevent all others from coming in competition with them during twenty years. This is supposed to have been the first successful attempt at manufacturing steel in this country. When the superior qualities of American over English iron are considered, it is very singular that a nation of such great enterprise as ours, is still, to a great extent, dependent upon a foreign people for one of its most necessary articles of everyday use. How much longer must such a state of things continue?

Paint Room.

For the New York Coach-maker's Magazine. HOW TO PAINT A CARRIAGE-BODY.

BY GEO. P. TINKER.

(Concluded from page 171.)

SUGAR BRANCH, IND., January 29, 1859. MR. EDITOR: In our last, we had got the body rubbed down, and set aside to get dry, and one would suppose that it had now stood long enough to get well dried. The body should now be sand-papered off, as there will always be remaining more or less loose dust and filling that you cannot wash off; hence it should be sand-papered and dusted off clean, and a coat of lead paint applied mixed in the following manner: Take one pound of keg-lead, one-fourth of a pound of lamp-black, one-third of a tea-cup full of japan, and thin down with turpentine. This paint should be ground perfectly fine and mixed very thin. body should stand forty-eight hours, by which time it will become hard, and should be again sand-papered off, and dusted clean. It is now ready for the color, which should be mixed as follows: One part raw oil, one part varnish,

The

two parts japan, and four parts turpentine. The body should have at least three coats of color, allowing each coat forty-eight hours to dry. After the last coat has become dry, you will sweep the floor, and dampen it by sprinkling, so as to have a room entirely free from dirt; then dust off the body and apply a full coat of body var. nish. Afterwards the body should stand three days, by which time it will become hard, and should then be cut down with pulverized pumice-stone and water. The pumice-stone should be pulverized on the paint-stone, afterwards, it should be wet up with water, and ground fine before it is used. There are a great many painters who just mash up the pumice-stone dry, and then wet it as they use it on the body, and this is the reason there is so much scratch-work, for they do not grind their pumicestone good. Before rubbing off, this coat should be rubbed enough to cut the nibs and lumps off, as too much rubbing will be likely to cut through, which will show streaked after the body is finished. After it is rubbed sufficiently, it should be washed clean with a sponge and cold water. In order to get all the contracted places cleaned out, I use a small paint-brush to wash out the corners and around the irons, where you can't get at it with a sponge. If this is not done, when you come to apply the next coat of varnish, all this stuff is sure to work out and get spread over the body, where it does not add any beauty to the looks of the body, not a particle. After the body is washed clean, it should be wiped off with a buckskin wrung out in cold water, and when dry it is ready to stripe and ornament, after which it is ready for the second coat of varnish. You will prepare the room as above directed, and if you have been using varnish from the can which you are about to draw from, it will be necessary to strain it. For this purpose you should get a clean linen rag of open texture, and strain your varnish through this, which will cleanse it from all lumps. If your varnish is thick from age, it will be necessary to thin it, which may be done by adding a small quantity of raw oil, and a little japan drier. Some painters use turpentine to thin with. This is not right, for varnish will be mealy and brittle enough, when it has been exposed to the weather, without making it more so by adding the turpentine. Next, you will see that your varnish brush is clean, and that your clothes are also clear of dust. Without cleanliness no man can execute a good piece of coach-painting.

Having all things ready, you will now apply a flowing coat of body-varnish, commencing on the panels first, using the brush horizontally, and then, across, perpendicularly, and then again horizontally for the finishing stroke. All varnishing should be done with a light brisk hand. After this coat has been applied, the body should stand ten days, when it should be again cut down as last describedonly more thorough-in order to make a level surface, after which apply one more flowing coat of body-varnish, which will finish the body ready for the trimmer. After the trimmer has executed his work, the body must be again rubbed down, and one more flowing coat of varnish applied. When the body has stood eight or ten days it will be ready for the repository.

I always prefer English varnish for the two last finish coats, although the pale body-varnish, manufactured by some American manufacturers, works almost equal to any English varnish. If the directions that I have attempted to give are followed up, they will bring out a good job, and one that will stand the weather. Some may say,

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