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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.’