the former shown by his architecture in exterior decoration, and by his household embellishments.
Colonel Jewell affiliates with the Congregationalists, but the Sabbath with him is a day of rest. His first wife was Mary A. Grover, daughter of Ephraim Grover, of Newton, Mass., to whom he was married in August, 1860. She died October 16, 1862. He was again married, May 31, 1865, to Ella Louise Sumner, daughter of Lewis Sumner, of Needham, Mass., and a near relative of the late Senator Charles Sumner. Mr. Jewell has kept out of politics, but is a good Republican, and should he be the standard bearer of the party in any future contest, he would probably lead its forces to victory.
He who ill Fortune's smiles delights.
And spends his days and eke his nights.
In luxury and ease—
Whose life is one harmonious round.
Of plenty, with affection crowned.
Where every sight and every sound
Encompass but to please:—
Could he but gaze a little space.
Within that dark and dreary place,
Where pines the lowly bard.
Bent o'er a feeble, flick'ring fire.
Whose fading embers now expire:
Perchance might come the sweet desire.
To pity and regard.
Hard, doubtful lot! Alas for truth!
That thus a noble, nameless youth.
The frowns of fate should know—
Should, once again, the chalice sip.
So often press'd to poet's lip.
And freeze beneath thy icy grip.
Relentless want and woe!
You tell me that, "At night, alone.
While through your little window shone.
The pale and peaceful moon.
You've gazed with rapt and longing eye,
Far out into the glorious sky—
To lift the veil you vainly try.
And grasp the future boon!"
"And yet. while with the 'Muse' you dwell.
A deathless hope your breast doth swell.
That rises o'er life's ills;
And all your slights and woes forgot,
You would not change your humble lot.
With him who owns a princely grot.
Which pomp inanely tills."
Brave Rhymer! 'mid the toil and strife.
That mark the rugged paths of life.
Which genius oft must tread.
Be bold! press on, and never fear.
Though present skies be dark and drear.
The golden dawn will soon appear,
And shine upon your head.
Note: A young friend of mine, writing from the North of Scotland in 1881, thus describes his condition and feelings: "I have sometimes taken great courage from your personal history, but as often and sontantly have my lowly circumstances in life suggested sadly to me the impossibility to do anything else than to struggle on with inexorable poverty. But, while thus depressed, I have still the indescribable cosolation of pouring forth my sorrows in verse; some specimens of which I send you. And, viewing the matter from where I now stand, and with my confessed inexperience in the world's ways, I hardly think I would voluntarily exchange my "Muse" for the cold glitter of brainless riches. I would like enough, that is all."
