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THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
JAS. A. WRIGHT, AGENT.
THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
Terms—Three Dollars a year, in adranoe
THE CLERK'S MARRIAGE.
•You aro a brave young man, or a very
foolish one.’
‘Why do you say that !’
•To think of marriage.’
‘What has bravery or folly to do in the
case?’
•The young lady is poor.’
‘I do not wed for money.'
‘There would be some hope for you if
she were the possessor of twenty or thirty
thousand dollars. But being as poor as
yourself, the folly of this purpose stands
out in bold relief. Look before you leap,
my friend; there’s trouble for you on the
other side.’
*1 am not sordid, Mr. Blair.’ The
young man’s fine face glowed, and his eyes
flashed with repressed indignation.
•Not sordid enough, Adrian, for mar
riage, as society is now constituted. There
are two sides to this question of marriage;
the sentimental side, and the matter-of-fact
aide. Now, you have looked ouly at the
sentimental aide. Suppose we consider
the matter-of fact aspects. You are a
clerk, receiving a salary of twelve hundred
dollars. Bow much lmve you saved !’
‘Nothing to speak of.’
‘Nothing! So much the worse. If it
costs you twelve hundred dollars per an
num to live, from whence iB to come the
means of supporting a wife and family ?’
*Oh, I’ve been careless and wasteful in
expenditure, as most young men are. I
had only myself to provide for, and was
self-indulgent. But that will cease, ol
course.’
‘Granted, for argument sake. The young
lady you propose to marry is named Rosa
Newell:
•Yes.’
‘A charming girl ; well educated ; finely
accomplished; u-eS to good society, aa
n,/ Friend Ad
rian, if she had money, or he an income
five thousand a year. But the idea of ma
king her a happy wife, in the city of New
York, on twelve hundred dollars, is simply
preposterous. It can’t be done; and the
attempt will prove ruinous to the happi
ness of both parties to so foolish an ar
rangement. It is a matter of the easiest
demonstration, Adrian ; and I wonder so
good an accountant as you are, should not
ere this, have tried the question by math
ematical rules. Let ine do it for you.
Ami, first, we will look at ltosa’a present
sphere of life. She has a home with Mr.
Hart, an uccle, and is living iu rather a
luxurious way. Mr. Dart is a man who
thinks a great deal of appearances, and
maintains a domestic establishment that
does not cost less than five thousand dollars
a year. ITis house rent is equal to your
whole salary. Now, in taking Rosa from
this home, into what kind of a one can
you place her?’ . **•
A sober hue of thought came over the
young man’s face.
‘You cannot afford to rent a bouse at:
even one-balf tbe coat of Mr. Ilart’s, evert
if you were able to buy furniture,’ cooliu
ued Mr. Blair.
‘We shall board, of course* said Adrian.
1 House-keeping is not to be thought of in
tbe beginning.’
‘lf not in the beginning, Low after
wvd V
The young man looked a trifle bewil
dered, but did not answer.
‘What are you now paying for board!’
‘Ten dollars a week.’
‘You would require a parlor and bed
room after marriage!’
‘Ye..’
‘At a cost of not less than twenty dol
lars a week.’
Adrian sighed.
‘We could hardly afford the pari or.’
‘Hardly,’ said bis frlfnif. "Ufoifo. we
give up the parfiir, and take a pleasant
front chamber oh the second floor, at fifteen
dollars a week. But tbe boute is not
first-class, nor tbe location very desirable.
These are not to be had io New York at
fifteen dollars a week. Yon cannot afford
for Rosa tbe elegancies of her present
borne. Five dollars a week more for
washing and et ceteras, and your moo me
* ja drawn upon at the rate of one thousand
and forty dollars a year. One hundred
and sixty dollars left for clothing and all
other expenses! And,sofar,it has taken
WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST 31,1860.
nearly three times that sum to meet your
own demands. It has a bad look, Adri-<
an.'
‘I was wasteful and self-indulgent,’ re-_
plied the young man, in a voice from
which the confident tone bad departed.
‘lt will scarcely cost liosa and me for clo
thing one-half of what I expended.’
‘Say one-half, and your income will not
reach the demaud. What was your tail
or’s bill last year ?
‘Two hundred dollars.’
‘Say three hundred, including bools,
hats, tt cetera.'
‘Yes.’
‘You could hardly get this below a hun
dred.'
‘Perhaps not.’
The young man’s voice was growing
husky.
‘That will leave sixty dollars for your
wife’s elotbing, and nothing for pleasures,
recreations, or unanticipated but unavoid
able eapeuMS. And if it be so with you
two in good bealtb, .What will be the con
dition o( things in sickness, and with
children to support sod educate ! Adrian,
my young friend, there is debt, embarrass
ment, disappointment, and a miserable life
before you. Pause and retraoe your steps
before it is too late# you love Rosa,
spare her from this impending late. Leave
her in her pleasant home, or lo grace that
of a man better able than you to provide
her with the external blessings of life.
You cannot marry on twelve-hundred do!
lars a year, and it is folly to think of it.’
‘We oould get boarding for twelve dol
lars a week,’ said Adrian.
‘That would scarcely help the matter at
all. At best, it would only make a differ
ence in the amount of your indebtedness
at tbo close of each year. It is folly to
think of it, my young friend. You can’t
afford to marry."
‘lt has a daik look, but there is no hold
ing up now,' replied Adrian, in a gloomy
WjMMFvdntre-flnTnranf- pisrgirt <&<>u
other, and the day of our marriago has
been appointed.’
‘l’m sorry fur you,' sniu the friend, a
bachelor of forty, who, ou an iucotue of
two thousand n year, could see no possible
chance fr.r a happy marriage in tbe city
of New York, and preferred celibacy to
the embarrassments which be saw hun
dreds of his friends encounter in their at
tempts to live in a style out of all propor
tiou lo their resources. ‘l'm sorry for you,
he repeated ; ‘but if you will bfnd your
neck to tbo yoke, you must not complain
of the burden you fiod yourself compelled
to bear.’
Strange as it may appear, tiie young
clerk, Henry Adrian, bad never before
looked this mailer of iucyme, expenditure,
and atyiu of living fairly in tbe front. The
actual aspect of the case, when clearly
seen, threw liis mind into a state of troubled
bewilderment. He went over and over
again the calculations suggested by Mr.
li*ir, a book-keeper iu the establishment
where ho was employed, cutting off a little
from oue proposed expenditure and anoth
er, but not being ttble to get the cost of
living down to tba range of his salary,
except when tbe style was so far below
that in which his wife mnst movw, that he
turned half sick from its -eoßteipjdauoD.
Tire moreTteilSty 'hwfoeitsd -wMba-tewtb,
the more heavily came the pressure of its
stony weight upon his heart. To go for
ward was little less than madness, yet how
could he bold back now?
Rosa sat alone, reading, in one of her
uncle’s handsome pallors, waiting for her
lover. He was later than usual; so late
that her book began to kwe its interest, and
at last lay closed on her lap, While a shade
fell over her expectant face. A single
glance et Rosa's countenance revealed the
fact that she was a girl of some character.
There was no soft, voluptuous languor
about her, but an erectness of position ae
she sat, and a firmness of tone io all her
features, that indicated an active mind and
I -self-reliance.
An hour later than usual, Adrian came.
‘Are you sick, Henry ?’ asked Rosa, as
i she took his band, end fixed her eyea on
t iris sober bee. Z.
j 'Not nick, but troubled in mind,’ he re
plied, without evasion.
‘Why are you troubled, Henry?’ And
Rosa drew an arm tenderly around her
lover.
p r 4Sdt down, and I will tell you. The
trouble concerns both, Ross,*.
Tbe young girl’s face grew pale. They
sat down close together, holding each oth
er’s hands. But in Adrian's countenance
there was a resolute expression, such as wo
see in the countenance of • man who has
settled a question of difficult solution.
‘The day fixed for our marriage is only
two months distant,” he saidi, The tone
in which lie spoke chilled the heart of Ro
sa. She did not answer, but kept her gaze
on his face.
‘Rosa, we must reconsider jhis matter.
We lißve acted without forethought.’
Ilor face beoarno pHler, her lips fell
apart, her eyes lied a frightened expres
sion.
‘I love you, Rosa, tenderly, truly. My
liosrt is not turning from you. I would
hasten, rather thau retard, the : day of our
marriage. Rut there are considerations
■ beyond that day, which have .presented
themselves, and demand sober considera
tion. In a word, Rosa, I cannot afford to
many. My income will not justify the
step.
The frightened look went out of Rosa’s
eyes.
'lt was wrong in me ever to have sought
your love.’
Iler hand tightened on his, and she
shrank cloaer to bis side.
•I am a clerk, with an inconW of only
twelve hundred dollars, and I do not see
much beyond to hope for. Rosa, tho fur
niture of these parlors twice the
amount pf my salary. The rent of tbe
home in which you now live is equal to
what I receive in a year. I cannot take
you from all this elegance into » third-class
boarding-house, the best my means will
provide. No, no, Rosa, it would, be un
just, selfish, wrong, cruel. How blind in
n.o a»ov id ifavd tiiS'Oglit <STW derail
the one I lotre 1'
Tbo young man was alrongly agitated
'And this is all that troubles you, Hen
ry ?’
‘ls it not enough ? Can I look at the
two alternatives that present themselves,
and not grow heart-sick ? If we marry,
what is before us 1 Humiliation, depriva
tion, and all the ills that poverty brings
for you, and debt, trouble, and a lifelong
embarrassment tor me. If we separate,
each taking different ways in life—oh, Ro
sn. Rosa, I am not strong enough to choose
that alternative!’
And bis form trembled under the pres
sure of excitement,
‘You loynrnT.'Tlanry ?’ The voice of
liosa, was calm, yet burdened w ith feel
ing.
‘As my own life, darling! Have I not
said so a hundred times?’
‘And even as my life do I love you,
Henry.’
For several moments her face lay hidden
in his bosom. Then lifting it, Rosa said:
*1 am glad you have spoken on this
subject, Henry. I oould not approach it
myself, but, now that we have it before us
let it be well considered. Your income is
twelve hundred dollars!’
‘Yes.’
‘A sum large enough to supply all tbe
real wants of two persons who have inde
pendence enough not to be enslaved by a
mere love of appearances.’
‘Why, darling, it will require more than
half of my salary to pay for respectable
boating.’
Taking it for granted tb&t, after our
marriage, I am to sit down in a boarding
bouse, with hands folded, an idle depend
ent on your labor: But I shall net so
construe my relation to niy buflband. I
will be a helpmeet for him. I W*ll stand
by his side, sharing life’s burdens.’
‘AH that is in your heart, darling, I
know,’ returned Adrian. '
‘But we are hedged round with social
forms that act as a hindrance. You can
not help me. Society will demand of us
a certain style of living, and we roust con
form to it, or be pushed aside from all cir
cles of refinement; ’taste sod intelligence.
I cannot accept this ostracism for you Ro
sa. It is not right.’
‘As if a false, heartless world were more
to me than a true, loving husband 1 Henry
tba central point of social happiness is
home ; as the home is, so will our lives bo
—rather let me say, as we are, so will our
homes be—centres of gloom or bright
ness. What others think -of us is really of
little apeount in making up the sum of our
enjoyments as we pass through life ; but
wbat we are in ourselves is everything.
We must be the centres of our own world
of happiness, or our lives will be incom
plete. Can a fine establishment like this,
in which I live in weak dependence, fill the
measure of my desires? Can it bring
peace and contentment ? No, no, Henry.
Tbe humblest apartments, shared with you,
would boa palace to my aoul instead. I
am not speaking with tbe romantic enthu
siasm of an ardent girl, but soberly, truth
fully, Henry. No, dearest, we will not
make our lives wretched by living apart,
because wo cannot make a fair appearanoe
in other people's eyes. God has given us
love for each other, and tbe means of hap
piness if we will use them. Let us taka
gifts in thankfulness. You have
au income of twelve hundred dollars. We
must not ox pect to live as those do who
have as many thousands a year. Be that
folly far from us, Henry 1 I am equal to
tbe self denial it will require, if the word
‘self-denial’ is to be used. Are not you
also! Ob, Ilenry ! is there any joy to be
imagined beyond that which flows from the
conjunction of two loving hearts! And
shall pride and a weak spirit of social con
formity come in to rob us of our bless
ing V
man had come, sternly re
» |iii| ill 1, 1 111 liiCpFi Iii| ii He
parted from Ids benWlw
ing forward, with golden-lined hope| oTlis
arrival. They had talked over tbq ftiture
practically and sensibly. The lovttt’s fond
pride, which bad looked to a fait sooial
appearance for his young wife, gave place
to a better view ot_tliings. He saw that
htSSove biWlfwintseir iSjISK-T’tftie:
m»iP, find that humbler sphere in
which tbotr lot was c<|l all attainable hap
piness was in store for tssm, if they would
but open their hearts in $n orderly way
for it* reception. One thing said to him
by Rosa in that evening’s talk we repeat
for tbe sake of young wives, or -
the eve of marriage.
'Be mine, dear Kenwi’ she said, 'the
task of ordering and regulating 4°~
mestic affairs in conformity .with yodft
means. I will jive all thought to ttifiT
Your income is fixed, and I shall know
exactly tbe range of expenditure we must
adopt. Do not fear debt and embarrass
ment. These wretched forms shall never
enter your home while I stand sentinel at
the door. If the buaband gives bis life to
care and work, shall not the wife do the
same! If he provide to the best of bis
ability, shall not she dispense with wise
frugality his earning? She that fails to
do this, is not worthy of her position.’
‘And so you are bent on this folly ?’ said
the bachelor clerk, on tbe day preceding
that on which Adrian was to be married.
‘Yes, if you choose to call it folly,’ was
the answer.
‘Where are you going!’
‘Wo shall go nowhere.'
‘Wbat! Not make a bridal tour!'
‘No. A clerk who only receives a sal
ary of twelve hundred dollars can’t afford
to spend two hundred in making a bridal
tottr.’’
Mr. Blair shrugged bit shoulders and
arched his eyebrows, as much as to say :
‘lf I couldn't afford * bridal tour, I’d not
marry.’
On tbe day after Adrian’s wedding, be
was at bis usual place in tbe counting
house. He received from Iris fellow clerks
a few feeble congratulations. Most of
them thought him a fool to burden him
self with a wife not worth a dollar.
‘When I marry, I’ll better-my condition
—not make it worse,’ was the unspoken
thought of more than one.
‘Where are you boarding!’ atked Mr.
Blair, indifferently, two or three weeks af
ter Adrian’s marriage.
‘^owhere,’ wes replied. ‘We are house
keeping.’
‘What!’
‘At housekeeping.’
‘Wbat is your rent f’
VOL, I.—NO. 19.
‘Two hundred dollars, and half of that
my wise, good little wife is to pay in mu
sio lessons to our landlady’s daughters.
We have two pleasant rooms in a good
house. I furnished these with tbe money
it would have taken for the usual bridal
tour. Rosa has the use of the kitchen,
and insists ou doing her own cooking and
housework for tbe present. I demurred,
and do demur; but she says that ‘work ia
worship,’ if performed conscientiously and
dutifully, as she is performing it. And,
with all this, we are very happy, Mr. Blair,
as you shall witness. To-morrow you
must go homo with me, take tea and spend
the evening.’
Mr. Blair accepted the invitation. He
had met Rosa occasionally before her mar
riage, and knew her to be a bright, acoom
plisbed young woman, fitted to move iu
refined and intelligent circles, and be felt
some curiosity to see her in tbe new posi
tion of mistress and maid to her own
household. The omnibus borw the two
men a long, long way from the city’s throb
bing heart, out to the more
where they alighted, and after a abort walk,
entered a modest-looking house with well
tended shrubbery io tbe front garden. Up
stairs they asoended, and there the young
wife met them. Not blushing and with
stammering apologies for their poor homo;
hut with such ense aud sweet sols-posses
sion—with such a happy light in. her eyes,
apd with such loving smiles about hflr
lips—that Mr. Blair found himself all at,
onoe transferred to an. earthly paradilS'
After a plelWiftV*'tillt ,r oTsoTie minutes,
Rq*a ntid. pot long after re
turned, bearing aimy on which were tea,
(oast, biscuit, cold tongue, and
.)v, et-Loacat*. .There was a beautiful glow
on her face asefisr-Entowd, Wt nothing of
Bhame nr hurt pride. With bar own fifir 1
hands, she arranged the table, and then
took Her place at tbe bead to serve her hat
band and hi?-friend.
■ After supper, tbe IST
things, and was absent newly half an
hour. She returned fiirough her chamber,
which adjoined thelf little parlor, breakfast
and sitting-room, all in one, with just the
slightest change in-her attire, and looking
as fresh, happy and beautiful aa if cater
ing a drawing-room filled with company,
The evejfing passed in reading, music and
pleasant conversation. Ac Mr. BhrtfW#
about to tiriag, Adrian said:
vou Chink now that we are fools to
WKHyV
‘Rosa stood with her hand drajpgNijmm
ope arm of ber husband and olasped, and
with a face radiantly happy.
A shade crept over Mr. Blair's coun
tenance.
‘No, not fools, but wise, as others uigbtp
be, if they were only courageous tnougli
to do as you have done. Mrs. fiSMSfif'
and he took the young wife’s hand, ‘I hon
or your bravery, your independence, your
true love that cannot be overshadowed by
worldioess, that mildew of the heart, that
blight ou our social life. You are a thou
sand times happier io your dutiful seclu
sion than any fashion-loving wife, or slave
to external appearances can ever be.’
‘I love my husband, and I live for him*
Rosa leaned closer to the manly form by
ber side. ‘I understood when we married
that he was a life-toiler; that our home
would be established and sustained by tbe
work of bis bands; and 1 understood as
well that I was not his superior, but only
bis equal, and that if it was right and hon
orable for him to work, it could be no less
right and honorable for me. Was Ito ait
idle, and have a servant to wait on me,
when bis waa a lot of toil! No—no—!
I had my part to perform as well as he,
and lam performing it to the best of my
ability.’
‘You are a true woman, a wise woman,
a good woman,’ said Mr. Blair, with ar
dor ; ‘and yoU will be as happy as you de
serve to be. I thought Henry a fool to
marry on twelve hundred dollars, and told
him so. Bot I take baek my words. If
such women as you were plentiful, we
could marry, and find our salaries ample.
Good-aigbt, aud may God blest you!’
And tbe bachelor elerk, who could not
afford to marry on two thousand dollars a
year, went to bis lonely home—lonely,
though peopled thickly—and sitting down
in his desolate chamber, dreamed over the
sweet picture ot domestic felicity he had
seen, and sighed for a like sweet hidggp
place from the MgjjLandoll its fall* pro
taction and heartless show.’