Newspaper Page Text
The Cartersville Semi-Weekly Express.
Published on every Tuesday and Friday Mornings
VOLUME X.
The Cartersville Express
It mthlishod Snml-Woekly on cx'ery TUES
DAY AND FRIDAY, by
g, H. SMITH & Cos., Editors and Prop’rs.
in tho town ot < artorsville, Bartow County, Ga.
Terr j i of Subscription:
ONLY $2 A YEAH!!!
INVAIUiUhY IN ADVANCE.
Thursday M trains Edition, one year) 1.50
This latter pr vpnslfcfon is con lined to citizens
of Bartow county only.
Terms of Advertising:
Transient (O i* Month or Aam.l per square of ten
Nonuaricl or livelier linos or less, One
Dollar for the and Fifty Cents for each sub
fUHinent I iiscm I iOll •
Annual or Coilntet, One Hundred and Twenty
Dollars per column, or in that proportion.
si|i)(eß3tonal (flirts.
Joint W. Wofford,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
CARTKUBV ILLK GEORGIA.
Office over Pinkerton's Drug Store. Oct. 17.
W. T. WOKFOHO, A, P. WOFFOKD.
Woliord «fe Wofford,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
OARTEU9VILr.It, GEORGIA.
June 23.. 1871*.
11. W. Nlurpliey,
ATTTORNEY AT LAW,
OARTRUSVILLK GEOROIA.
Will practice in the courts of the pherokee
Circuit. Particular attention given to the col
lection of claims. Office with Col. Abda •John
son. Get. 1.
John J. Jones*
ATTORNEY AT LAW & REAL ESTATE AGENTT
CARTERSVILLE. GEORGIA.
Will attend promptly to all professional busi
ness entrusted to his cure; also, to the buying
and selling of Heal Estate. .Jan 1.
Jcre. A. Howard,
Ordinary of Bartow County.
CARTERSVILLE GEORGIA.
Jun 1, 1870.
A. ML Foute,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
AUTItUBVILLE GEORGIA,
( With Col. Warrati Akin,)
Will practice in the courts of Harlow, Cobh,
Folk, Floyd, Gordon, Murray, Whitfield and ad
joining counties. March 30.
r. W. MILNER, O. 11. MILNER.
Hi liter dr Milner,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
CAKTERRVILLE GEORGIA
Will attend promptly to business entrusted to
their care. Jan. 15.
Warren Akin,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CARTRRSVI i LK, GEORGIA.
Will practice in all the courts of the State.
Nam. IV. !*atillo,
Fashionable Tailor and Agent
for Sewing Machines,
WIT,!, attend promptly to the Cutting, Re
pairing, and Making lloys’ and Slobs'
nothing; also. Agent for the sale of the cele
brated Grover A Ilaker Sewing Machines. Of
fice over Stokcly A Williams Store. Entrance
from the rear. leb 17.
W. li. Noiiiifcnsile,
Jeweler and Watch and Clock
Repairer,
CARTERBVILT.K, GEORGIA.
Olllee in front of A. A. Skinner & Co’s Store.
Kennosaw House,
MARIETTA GEORGIA.
I S still open to the traveling public as well as
summer visitors. Parties desiring to make
arrangements for the season can be accommo
dated. Rooms neat and clean and especially
adapted for families. A line large piazza has
been recently added to the comforts of the estab
lishment. FLETCHER A FREY Ell.
junelSwtf Proprietors.
S. O'SHILLDS,
Fashionable Tailor ,
Cartersville, Georgia.
If .VVE just received the latest European and
f l American styles of Mens’ and Boys’ Cloth
ing, and is prepared to Cut and Making to or
der. office upstairs in Liebman’s store, East
side of the Railroad. sept. 29.
Dr. J. A. Jackson,
PRACTICING PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.
OFFICE IN THE NE W HE UO STOItE.
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA.
Jan 4th, 1871. •
WM. 0. BOWLER,
MANUFACTURER OF,
DEALERIIf^ f
SINGLE AND DOUBLE
HAKNESS,
Saddles,
COLLAKS, LEATHER, k C,
EETAIBIYG DONE
With neatness and dispatch.
Egy Shop r n West. Main Street, near the old
Market llouso, CARTICRSVILLE, GA.
feb 81-wly WM. O BOWLER.
~~“GEAR, SHOP,” by ifV E %
W. C MM,
CARTERSVILLE, GA.
Manufacturer, of Harness, Bri
dies, Gear, etc*, and Dealer in
~~~ Smldlew. Leather.
Repairing done on short notice. Work war
ranted to stand the test. Hides Wanted,
jail. 24, 187t.-swly
■mjf
Teeth drawn without pain, by the useoi nar
cotic spray. meh 9.
J. T. OWEN,
JEWELER,
Main street, Cartersville, Ga..
Will furnish anything in his line as cheap as
it can be bought anywhere.
H.* is always at his post, ready to serve his
customers.
Every tiling war an ted to give satisfaction.
SHARP &FLOYD,
Successors to Geo. SHARP, Jr.,
ATLANTGA.,
Wholesale And Retail Jewelers.
We Keep a Largo and Varied Assortment of
FINE WATCHES, CLOCKS,
DIAMONDS, JEWELRY,
AND
SPECTACLES.
mm imm wm
A SPECIALTY.
Wo Manufactuac Tea Sets, Forks, Spoons.
Goblets, Cups, Knives, etc.
Jfyemitnns Tfot] Agricultural Fairs.
We are prepared to fill any order for Fairs at
short notice; also to give any information in
regard to I’reminintt,
Orders by mail or in perton, will receive
prompt ami careful attention. We ask a com
parison of Stock, Prices and Workmanship With
any bouse in the State.
Watches and Jewelry carefully Repaired
and Warranted- Masonic Badges and Sunday
School Badges made to order.
JfcST- All Work Guaranteed.
ENGRAVING FREE OF CHARGE.
SH ARP & FLOYD.
May 23, swly.
2D & H
XT is well known to
Doctors and to Ladies
that Women are subject
to numerous diseases pe
culiar to their sex—such
as Suppression of the
Menses, Whites, Painful l
M’nthly ‘Periods,’ Rheu
matism' of the Baek and
Womb, Irregular Men
struation, Hemorrhage,
or Excessive ‘Flow,’and
Prolapsus TTtcrior Fall
ing ot the Wonth,
These diseases havesel
dom been treated successfully. The profession
has songhtdilligently for some remedy that vro’ld
enable them to treat these diseases with success.
At last, that remedy lias been discovered by
one of the most skilful physicians in the State of
Georgia. The remedy is
Bradfield’s Female Regulator.
It Is purely vegetable, and is put up in Atlan
ta, by BRA ft FI ELD A CO.
It will purify the blood and strengthen the
system, relieve irritation of the kidneys, and is
a perfect specific for all the above diseases; as
certain a cure as Quinine is in ('hills and Fevers.
For a history of diseases, and certificates of its
worderful cures, the reader is referred to the
wrapper around the bottle. Every bottle war
ranted to give satisfaction or money refunded.
LAG RANGE, GA., March 23,1870.
BR A DPI ELF) CO., ATLANTA, GA.:
Dear Sirs: I take pleasure in stating that I
have used, for the last twenty years, the medi
cine von are puttingup, known as DR. J. BRAD
FIELD’S FEMALE REGULATOR, and con
sider it the best, combination ever gotten to
gether for the diseases lor which it is recom
mended. I have, been familiar with the pre
scription both as a practitioner of medicine and
in domestic practice, and can honestly say that
I oonsider it a boon to suffering females, and
can but hope that every lady in our whole land,
who may he suffering in any way peculiar to
their sex. may be able to procure a bottle, that
their sufferings may not only be relieved, but
that they may be restored to health & strength.
With my kindest regards, lam, respectfully,
W. B. FERRELL, M. I).‘
We, the undersigned Druggists, take pleasure
In commending to the trade. Dr. J. BradlUdd’s
Female Regulator—believing it to he a good and
reliable remedy for the diseases for which he
recommends it. W. A. LAXSDELL,
PEMBERTON, WILSON, TAYLOR & CO.
REDWIN E A FOX,
W.C. LAWS TIE, Atlanta, Ga.
W. ROOT A SON, Marietta, Ga.
ACTS with gentleness and thoroughness
upon the I.iver and General Circula
tion— keeps the Bowels in Natural Motion
and Cleanses the System from all impuri
ties. II " v 111 -■""I j Never
faHs V, A0 t) i .lli* to Cure Li ‘
v « >• jJDr. 0. S. in
an yj J x | |f orin . Tor
pid i- Mir "** ” M,M "tv. Enlarg
ment/Dyspepsla, Indigestion, Loss of Ap
petite, Nausea, Sour Stom.-j.eh, Heart Burn.
Debility, Low Spirits, Cold Feet and Hands,
Costiveness, Listlessness, Colic, Chronic
Diarrhea, and Chronic Chills amt Fever.
s69* Compouned in strict accordance with
skillful chemistry and scientific pharmacy, this
purely veg-j i| e ta h 1 e
Compound: I i | (has, after
the severe- II CELEBRATED I jest test of
t w e n t y|| | (years i u
eossant use.lt"' "**" " **""" """~7"Jlhfen styl
ed the Great Restorative and Recupeuant
by the enlightened testimony of thousands us
ing it; so harmoniously adjusted that it keeps
the Liver in healthful action; and when the
directions are observed the process of waste
and replenishment in the human system con
tinues uninterruptedly to a ripe old age, and
man, like the patriarchs of old, drops into the
grave full of years, and without a struggle,
whenever] I ' " *'•"—* iID eath
cluimsliis, I'preroga
tive. Ada-ii Liver Med tcme.ili>t ed to
the most] | | Idelica t a
tompc r a-7***I'*"' 1 '*"'—*"T/T! ' ' ‘"""'""{"nn'iil A
rohnstconstitution, It can be given with equal
safety and success to the young child, invalid
lady or strong man.
jiine 2,1871.
Bridles,
»R. O. S. PMtOPniTTTS
Anodyne Pain Kill It.
NEVER FAILING!
KILLS PAIIV I\ EVERY FORM.
Cl HUES Pains in the Back, Chest, /Tips or
jLi tabs, Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Cou-uhs,
Colds, Bronchial Affections. Kidney Diseases. Dys
pepsia, liver Complaint ; Colic, (Cholera, Cholera
Morbus, Pleurisy, Asthma, Heart Burn, Tooth
Ache, Jaw Ache, Ear Ache, Head Ache, Sprains.
Bruises, Cuts, Contusions, Sores, Lacerated
Wounds, Scalds. Burns, Chill Blains, Frost Hites .
Poisofis, of all kinds, vegetable or animal. Os all
■ - ■ 1 *-
[|l?-A. I N KIL L It7]|
— l-11
the Remedies ever discovered for the relief of
Suffering humanity, this is the best Pain Media
tor known, to Medical Science. The cure is speedy
and permanent in the most inveterate diseases.
This is no humbug, but a grarulmedicaldisaarery.
A Fain Killer containing no poison, to inflame,
paralize or drive the inflammation upon an in
ternal organ. Its efficiency is truly wonderful
—Kklief is. Instantaneous. It is"destined to
banish pains and aches, wounds and bruises,
from the face of the earth,
may 6, 1871.
CERTIFICATES:
We, the undersigned, haved used Dr. Proph
itt’s l’rcpaartions, and take pleasure in recom
mending them to the public, as being all he
claims tor them:
(Jol. R J Henderson, Covington, Ga.; O T Rog
ers, Covington, Ga.; O S Porter, Covington, Ga.;
Prof. J L Jones. Covington, Ga.; Rev. M W Ar
nold, Georgia Conference; Rev. W W Oslin, Ga.
Conference; F M Swanson, Monticello, Ga.; Ro
bert Barnes, Jasper County, Ga.: AM Robinson,
Monticello, Ga.; James Wright, Putnam county,
Ga.; A Westbrook, Putnam county, Ga.; Judge
J J blovd, Covington, Ga.; W L Jiebee, “Cov
ington Enterprise,”; A H Zachry, Con vers, Ga;
George W allace, Atlanta, Ga.; Dick Lockett,
Davis county, Texas; W Hawk Whatley, Cus
seta, Lexus; W C Roberts, Linden countv, Tex
as; Tommy & Stewart. Atlanta, Ga; W A Lans
dell, Druggist, Atlanta, Ga; R F Maddox & Cos.;
Atlanta, Ga.; Uriah Stephens, Cartersville, Ga.;
A N Louis, Lowndes county, Ga.; Joseph Land,
Lowndes county, Ga.; Jas. Jefferson. Carters
ville, Ga.; W L Ellis, Doolv countv, Ga.: W A
Forehand, Dooly county, Ga.; John B. Davis
Newton Factory, Ga.; B F Bass, Low mines co.
Dr. ,F. M.
J oliuson,
DENTIST.
Cartersville, Ga.
CARTERSVILLE, BARTOW COUNTY, GEORGIA, SEP’T 19 1871.
Church Directory.
Xlelhodlcit Chnrcli,
Rev, John T. Norris, Scferncmerart.
The pulpit of this Church is filled, the first Snb
bath in each month, by Rex. Wm. 11. EELTON;
the 2nd Bal> hath in eacli month, hy Rev. Jas.
W. Harris; the 3rd Sabbath iu each month,
by Rev. Jno. T. Norris; the 4tli Sabbath in
each month, by Rev. Du. W. W. Leak. Ser
vices every Sunday night. Prayer meeting
held on Wednesday evening of each
week. Sahath School Sunday mornings, com
mencing at 9 o’clock.
Baptist Church.
Rev. Robert 11. Deaden, Pastor.
Preaching every Sunday and Sunday night by
the Pastor.
Prayer Meeting held on Thursday night of
» each week.
Pabbath School every Sunday morning, coni.,
meuoing at 9 o’clock.
Presbyterian Church.
Rev. Theodore E. Smitii, Pastor.
Preaching every Sunday morning and night.
• by the Pastor.
Prayer Meeting held on Tuesday evening of
each week.
Sabbath School every Sunday morning,j com
mencing at 9 o’clock.
Episcopal Church.
Rev. Alexander J. Drysdale, Rector.
Preaching every Second Sunday in each month,
commencing at half past four o'clock, p. M.
Services, in the future, will be held in the
building belonging to Dr. W. W. Leak,
in the rear of the new Methodist Churc h.
[From Grahams Magazine.
Pride.
An old Man's Story.
I was left an orphan at an early age,
but with immense wealth, after arriving
at manhood lonjoyed all that untram
meled leisure and money could pro
cure me. I traveled a broad, and for
some years pursued those amusements
and pleasure which the old world, with
its experience of luxury, offers to the
unoccupied and wealthy.
When I was about thirty, I deter
mined to marry. As my property con
sisted mostly of landed estate, situated
in my native country, I wished, when
I married, to return there and make
it my homo. Then I thought it would
bo better to select a wifo from my own
countrywomen —one who would be
content to settle down to the domes
tic life of her own home. I shrank
from selecting my future life-compan
ion among the gay, brilliant belies of
foreign circles. No. I w f as wearied of
out-doors life, and pined for some new
sphere of enjoyment. A quiet mar
ried life would procure happiness for
mo I felt sure; and on my voyage
homo, I built all sorts of domestic
Chateaux d'Efipange.
I thought it would be very easo in
my own country to obtain just the
kind of woman I wauled. I had no
fears of my success. I knew I had a
tine personal nppearonce and good ad
dress, which would, of course, secure
the heart of the happy lady of my se
lection; then my handsome fortune
and excellent position in society would
smooth away all family difficulties.
But after my return homo I found
there were as many obstacles existing
to my marriage as abroad; the woman
were the same—beautiful, accomplish
ed, interesting, but mere women of the
world.
I became the fashion, of course, and
was a mark for scores of manceuveriug
mammas and fair daughters. No one
asked what faults I had, or whether
my disposition was such as to ensure
happiness in married life. My pas
sionate, willful temper was termed a
becoming spirit, my selfishness was
either overlooked or uncarcd for. I
possessed every charm of mind and
person, because I was an excellent
match. Disgusted, I almost resolved
upon old bachelorhood for tho rest of
my life.
One summer, after recovering from
an attack of illness, I happened, by
chance, in traveling about in pursuit
of my lost health, to stop at a sea
bathing place, quite unknown to the
fashionable world. It was bo unlike
every other watering-place I had ever
been at, that I resoved to remain there
until I wearied of it as I had of every
thing else.
At this retired place I met Emily
Grayson. Her parents had gone there
like myself for the benefit of their
health rather than for amusement.
I soon discovered that Mr. Grayson
and my father had been college friends;
and though they had but rarely met
after they had left college, the recol
lection of their boyish intimacy w r as so
pleasant to Mr. Grayson that he re
ceived the son of his old friend warm
ly and effectionately. I pass over my
introduction to his family. From my
first interview with Emily Grayson I
felt interested in her, and an intimate
acquaintance but increased that inter
est. I soon penetrated her character
—not a difficult task, for never have I
seen a face so expressive of* the feel
ings of the soul as hers. Her action,
too, were dictated alone by the impul
ses of a pure heart. I found that she
was artless, intelligent and affectionate;
these were the qualities which I had
determined that my future wife must
possess. Nevertheless, she had faults.
Her curling lip, her expanded nostril
and hashing eye, when circumstances
aroused hi r, indicated that she possess
ed an impetuous temper, with so small
quantity of pride. I soon found that
she was rather self-willed; but I ex
cused ibis fault, for she has always
been the petted plaything of parents,
friends, and teachers. Those were her
only errors; and I thought they might
easily be corrected, for while hnreh-
“ Onward- and Upward.’*
ness but incensed her. she was as easi
ly controlled by gentleness as a child.
Suffice it to say, that she came nearer
my ideal than my one I had ever met
with, and I determined to win her.
I loved her as I had never loved wo
man. I read with her favorite au
thors and mine; I walked and rode,
sung and talked with her. I told tier
of the lands I had visited—of the won
ders I had seen; and when, at last, I
gave utterance to my love, my words
fell on a willing ear; and I soon ob
tained permission to asked her hand
of her parents. Great was their
tonishment when they heard their*
girlish daughter demanded in marriage.
They had seen my attentions, it was
true; but they had looked on me ns so
much her senior—she was but sixteen,
I beyond thirty—that they had never
imagined the possibility of my become
ing a lover. However, when they
found that Emily really loved me, they
offered no objection, stipulating, how
ever, that our marriage should bo de
fered for one year, that we might study
each other’s character more clotely
during that time, with the additional
request, that our betrothal should not
be made public. If at tho expiration
of that time we both remained un
changed, they promised that she should
lie come mine. I pleaded in vaiu for
a speedy marriage; I feared that the
prize which I had won might possibly
be lost to mo; and with all my natural
impetuosity of temper, I sought to se
cure immediately what I hoped would
perfect my day-dream of happiness.
They were firm.
“Thoir daughter,” they said, “was
very young, and might possibly have
mistaken a girlish liking for a more
serious attachment. I, too, might bo
influenced by a passing fancy.”
I yielded to what I could not con
trol, but thoro was a source of satisfac
tion mingled with my disappointment.
I saw that my wealth had no influence
in their decision, and the fear which
had always haunted me—of being
married from mercenary motives, was
destroyed; at length 1 was loved—
fondly and devotedly loved, and for
myself alone.
The year passed away more rapidly
than I bad anticipated. Oh! what a
happy year wan that! Friendless,
alone, a sorrow-stricken old man, on
tho Verge of the grave, I look back
upon that period as the sunny hour of
ffty existence. In my dreams I recall
it> “rid once again those happy days,
"ith their bright hopes, their blissful
realities, are mine. Bat to my story.
my betrothed grew nearer
and dearer to me; though modesty
Jusirained any protestations of love,
her silence was more eloquent than
words. The yoar passed happily
away, and mv wedding day arrived.—
I would have made it tho occasion of
a grand festival; I wished the world
to witness my proud joy; but my bride
looked on marriage as too solemn, too
serious a thing for mirth.
A prouder, if not a happier man,
was 1 when, after we had finished the
bridal tour, she was at last installed as
mistress of my magnificent mansion—
when 1 received the congratulations of
my friends, and heard tho whispered
murmur of admiration which her
beauty excited. Fete after fete was
given to her, and we plunged into the
maelstrom of fashionable matrimonial
dissipation. Emily, however, prefer
red the quiet pleasure of home to the
gay scenes into which she was intro
duced—and so, in truth, did I; but
my vauity rejoiced iu her triumphs.—
Secluded as she had been from society,
she had none of the faults of the intia
ted, and I was proud to contrast her
artless, unaffected mien, and modest
dignity, with the stately pretensions of
those around her.
At length tho bridal parties were
over, tfnd in tho quietuclo of our home
our characters began gradually to un
fold themselves iu each other’s view.—
I found that I was not mistaken in
my estimate of my wife’s lave. It was
a deeper and more devoted affection
than I had even dreamed would ever
becoiH© mine. She loved me with all
the warmth of her warm, impetuous
nature; her faults were not called into
action, and she was radiant with all
those good qualities which so delight
a man. How very happy we were;
how very happy we might have re
mained. My moon of perfect love was
at its full. I stood on the topmost
pinnacle of happiness. Hitherto I
had mused over the poet’s lay of love;
I had burned at the novelist’s descrip
tion of the intensity of the passion;
but their wildest their most visionary
dreams fell short of that Elysium of
delight —that Eden of bliss which* I
enjoyed with my Emily. All was joy,
all was brightness; but the shadow
descended upon my hearth—/brought
it there —l fed it—/ nursed it, until
the light of joy was extinguished—un
til the sun of happiness had departed
forever.
I have said that my temper was nat
urally violent; that I was obstinate;
that I was selfish. Previous to my
marriage, circumstances had kept this
infirmity of disposition in check, and
for some months after I controlled it.
It had but slumbered —it was. not
quenched; and I, who had undertaken
to correct this very fault iu another,
now, myself, became its sl.ive. The
bonds were broken; the first unkind
words were spoken —those words which
are so easily repeated after they have
once occurred. The first quarrel—
that sad era in married life—had ta
ken place between us, and both felt
that henceforth, that perftet love
which we had hitherto enjoyed could
return no more. Could wo ever divest
ourselves of the memory of those cruel
words? “But we might still be com
paratively happy if this evil occurred
no more;” so said my weeping wife,
when, after a passion of tears, she of
fered me her hand. Things passed on
smoothly for a time; but the bonds
were broken, nnd I ceased to check
the ebullitions of anger which the
slightest circumstance called forth.—
Before the second year of my married
life had passed away, I became that
worst of all oppressors—a house-hold
tyrant. At any annoyance, no mattor
how slight—if my meals were not pre
pored at the appointed hours—if a pa
per, or book was mislaid—l would
give way to expresssions of anger of
which, afterward, I really felt asham
ed, knowing how unworthy they were
of a man; and vet, when again anger
ed, I repeated them, and more violent
ly than before. My wife boro this
with patience, but her indulgence chaf
ed me, and I sometimes uttered taunts
which no human being could suffer in
silence. Then came a reply, and when
this reply did come—such scenes as
occurred I I would work myself into
an insane passion, and utter words
which in my cooler moments I shud
dered at, and which invariably drove
her weeping from the room. And yet,
soon after, would she come to mo and
beg to be forgiven for the very words
which I had forced her to utter. The
demon within mo rejoiced to seo her
pride thus humbled before mine, for
nover, no matter how much iu fault,
did I seek a reconciliation. My tem
per becarno more violent, and at
length, in ono of our usual quarrels, I
proposed a separation. Had a serpent
stung her she would not have gazed
on it as she did on me. Never shall I
forget her look, so deathly palo, as she
came near me and placed her hand up
on my arm.
“Horace,” said she, “do you think I
could survive such an act ? Do you
think I would cast a stain upon my
youug sisters ? Do you think I would
send my gray-hnired parents sorrow
ing to the grave ? Would see another
woman your bride ? Would bear tho
world’s sneeriug pity ? Never! never 1
—I will die first. Persecute mo, tor
ture me, inflict every refinement of
cruelty upon me, even strike me, if
you will; but never will I consent to
such a proceeding —never shall the
world call me other than your wife so
long as we both shall live. You came
to me when I was young and happy;
you took mo from a home where 1 had
never had known sorrow; you have
blighted tho hopes of my young life,
and now, you seek to cast me away
like a toy of which you have wearied.”
I recoiled at myself; but I remained
unchanged.
We had been married four years,
and Emily had greatly changed in
that time. Tho gay, light-hearted girl
had become the calm, dignified wo
man. The world looked upon us as
examples of matrimonial happiness,
for we were both too proud to betray
the truth. Os late Emily’s manner
had altered; she ceased to reply to my
fits of passion; neither did she now
come and seek to effect a reconcilia
tion with me. An icy calm reigned
between us. . This existed for some
time; but, while I wished it broken, my*
pride prevented me from making the
first advances. Fain would I have had
it dispelled by any means which would
not humiliate me; for, with all my un
kindness, I really loved my wife, re
gretted the violence of my temper,
and lamented my want of self-control.
But now—what should I do ? My
pride foi bade any advances from my
side, and I feared that none would
come fro#i hers, I saw at length that
her pride was aroused, and I dreaded
that she would obey its dictates, even
though it broke her heart, for I knew
she still loved me. Day by day her
cheek grew paler —her form tbiner,
and I saw sho suffered; but my fiend
ish pride would not give way. Borne
times, when Iliad almost conquered
myself, when I had determined to ef
fect a reconciliation, when next we
met a cold bow from her, with her
stately manner, again awoke the de
mon within me, and my good resolu
tions were broken. Thus matters
stood when, one day, I entered the
room where she was sitting, and exci
ted by wine, which, lately, was fre
quently the case, I commenced up
braiding her about some trifle. She
answered not, but continued her work
—a piece of delicate embroidery. En
raged at her silence, I snatched it
from her hands, threw it on the carpet,
and placed my foot on it. The blood
rushed to her pale cheek—her eyes
flashed with their former fire, as she
sprung to her feet, and bade me re
store it to her.
“O, icicle,” I replied, “are you
melted at last ? Give it to you ! No,
indeed; I will teach you more respect
for your husbaud than you have lately
shown. See,” I continued, as I picked
it up and tore it to fragments, “see!
there is the frippery which you think
more worthy of your attention than
your husband.”
“Anything is more worthy of it than
my husband at this moment,” she re
plied.
“Say you so; say yon so, madam,”
I exclaimed, grasping her by the arm,
and hissing the words through my
teeth; “then, wlint say you to a sepa
ration ? You need not refuse, I will
have one; I will live no longer with
such a wife. Do } t ou consent? answer
me?” I continued, sh_king her by the
(
“As you please,” she replied; “noth
ing can be worse than this.”
“You consent at last then, do you ?
Well, this very day I will commence
arrangements. h
“When yon plenso,” sho replied, and
she left the room.
I stood aghast at what I had done;
I had proposed a separation and sho
had consented. I had said that on
that very day I would commence ar
rangements for the purpose, and
could I break my word ? Could Igo
to her and beg her not to leave me,
and that, when I myself, had proposed
such a step ? My pride again forbade
me, and I obeyed its dictates; but
there still remained a secret hope
within me, that on cool reflection she,
herself, would refuse. I determined
to consult a lawyer in whose secrecy I
could confide, and make such arrange
ments as were absolutely necessary.—
I did so, and patiently awaited the re
sult. My wife did not appear again
during that day—the next morning I
found a note on my plate at the
breakfast table: Emily was not there.
I opened it, and found that it contain
ed a proposal to the effect that she
should be permitted to join some
friends who were about to visit Europe
ostensibly on account of her health;
and if, at tko expiration of that time
sho still lived, that a permanent sepa
ration might be arranged; but at
present such a thing should not bo
made public. The noto was written
in a calm, clear mannor, yet I thought
the desire to avoid publicity in the af
fair, betrayed some token of relenting.
I replied to it at once, saying that I
should make no objection to such au
arrangement, or to any other that
might suit her conveniouce. W T ith
tho note I scut a largo amount of
monoy for her preparations.
Tho next day we received an invita
tion to a party which, contrary to her
late habits, Mrs. Mansfield accepted.
She sent it to me in a note, stating the
fact, and saying that she thought it
would afford an excellent opportunity
to make known to society her inten
tion of visiting Europe. I signified
my assent. During the time which
intervened I saw my wife only at table,
where she appeared as calm as over,
though, perhaps, a trifle paler, than
usual. Hour on hour I had looked
for her pride to fail her. Deeply in
jured as she had been, I could not
bring myself to believe that, loving mo
as she once had loved me, and I fond
ly hoped still did, she would really
leave me; but after having once made
public her intention I feared lest she
might not shrink. Would she do so?
O, how auxiously I aw aited thort, event
ful night, and when, at last, it came,
I was dressed and in attendence at an
unusually early hour. As I paced the
floor anxiously, I hoped—l prayed
that her heart would conquer—that
lovo would subdue pride; but how
could I—how dare I—hopo it? What
indignities had she not borne from
me! Ought I not to humble myself
and asked her to for give me !
Had sho come in at that moment I
would have done so, but she came not.
I wondered how she would dress.
Perhaps some carelessness in her ap
parel would betray that her mind was
too much preoccupied to think of it.
I glanced at the clock; it was time
that she should be there. Just then
sho entered, and as pale and calm ns
usual. I looked at her dress; it was of
dark velvet, trimmed with rich lace—
she had worn just such a dress in hap
pier days because I admired it, and
thought that it became her style of
beauty. But now what was her ob
ject. Did she desire to please me still,
or was it habit? I glanced at her
arms—on her neck; —she wore a set
of diamonds which I gave her short ly
after our marriage. She rarely wore
them at first, because she thought
them unsuitable ornaments for one
so youDg, but now, when she looked
so queenly and moved so stately,
they gave to her a grandeur which
startled me.
I could detect no carelessness in her
dress—no agitation in her manner.—
Her hand trembled not when I led her
to the carriage. She showed no emo
tion during our drive to the scene of
festivity. Could this be 4 he light
hearted gill I married a few short
years ago? Could this cold, this haugh
ty, thi j imperial woman, be gentle, the
loving, the delicate wife of other days?
I heard the murmur of admiration
which greeted her: I saw group after
group of flatterers gathering around
her, and I wandered through the crowd
like one in opium dream, until, at last
I reached a conservatory, where I con
sealed myself, aDd thought of her—
thought of her as when first I met her.
I looked back on the happy hours of
our brothal—on the happier days of
our early marriod life. I recalled her
joyousness of spirit—her frank confi
dence of manner—her deep love—our
former happiness —our present misery;
and I remembered thai it waa I that
had wrought the change. In a few
days we should part —perhaps forever
—part while our hearts were full of
love for each other! Never bad I
adored her as at that hour, and I de
termined that she should not leave
me.
Just then the voice of one singing
reached me. The tones seemed famil
iar: I could not be mistakeu: the voice
was hers. I hastily repaired to the
room from which it proceeded, and,
placiug myself in a position from which
I could see the singer without being j
seen by her, listened until the song was
S. 11. Smith ( S' Cos., Proprietor*
| finished. She was al>ont to
| when several voices asked for another
| song for one which at once hu l
! been a favorite of hers—of
Her face flushed, and tld*n paUq
again, when it was placed before h ei .
Perhaps she thought of how often
had sung that soug for me. In mv
eagerness I had pressed .forward, ami
just when she hesitated, her eyes met
mine. SU e immediately complied.—.
Her voice faltered at first, but recover
ing herself, sho sang it through to tho
eud. It was a lay of happy love.—
When it wjus fiuished, she raised her
eyes for a moment, and only a mo
ment, to mine, aud then commenced
another—one I had never heard be
fore—the story of a proud heart bro
ken ! The words seemed to come from
her very soul. The tones of her voice
will ring in my ears until they aro
dulled by death. A deep, painful si
lence pervaded the room, lours stood
in many bright eyee, red lips quivered
with emotion. 'Then she ceased and
arose fromber seat, but so pale was
she I fearodshe would faint..
We soon after returned borne. The'
distance was short, but the time seem
ed an age until we reached our house. I
would havo given worlds to have spo
ken aud to have told her all—atl my
sorrow—all my repentance— but I
could not; my tongue clove to tho roof
of my mouth, nor indeed, until long
after wo had reached our homo, aud
sho bade mo “good-night,” could I ut
ter a word. Then aud only then I
stammered out a request that sho
would remain for a few moments. She
closed the door and returned to her
chair, raising her large, dark eyos iu
quiringly to mine. I hesitated.
‘Emily,’ at last said I—l had not
called her so for mouths before - ‘Em
ily, will you not sing mo those songs
you sung to night.’
‘Certainly, if you wish it,’ sho re
plied, and seating herself at the piano,
she sang thorn again in a clear, calm
tone.
I had determined when tho songs
were fiuished to seek a reconciliation;
but the demon, pride, whispered will
you be less firm than sho?—this can
not last: why humiliate yours If ? Alas
I listened and obeyed! I suffered tho
last opportunity to recall our happi
ness to escape. Pride, tho tyrant, was
obeyed, and I suffered her to leave
the rodtn with a cold “good-night.” I
went up into my own lonely chamber,
aud sat down, and pondered on the
events of tho evening, regretting my
folly in suffering my pride again to
master me.
1 heard my wife moving about her
room which adjoined my own, and
then, suddenly, a heavy fall aiul a iow
groan ! I rushed into her apartment
and found her extended on the llooiv
I raised her in my urms, and to my bor
ror! her white night-dress was cov
ered with blood, which was streaming
from her mouth. The truth flashed
upou mo at once; sho hud broken a
blood vessel; she would die! I sprang
to the bell. In a few minutes —
which seemed an age, the servants en
tered the room, but stopped horror
stricken at beholding their beloved
mistress apparently in tho agonies of
death!
“The doctor! a doctor, quick !” i
shouted—“she will die- sho wiU die l”
In a second they wire all gone
save her maid, who was sobbing and
praying, while she wiped the blood
from the blue lips of her expiring mis
tress. O, what agony I suffered (Tur
ing the interval which ensued before
the arrival of the physician ! I culled
her by the dearest titles; I begged her
but to speak one word, I entreated her
to forgive me—only to smile one*
more ? She slowly opened her large
eyes; a slight smile passed over her
face, and she was—dead! Just then
the physicians entered. I would not
—I could not believe that she was re
ally no more—that God had taken
her from me. I begged aud prayed of
them to exert their skill- to save her 1
“It will be useless to attempt it,”
was their passionless reply; “no pow
er cau restore her !”
I did not believe them. My wife
was not—could not be dead ! I clasp
ed her in my arms; I kissed her brow
—her lips; aud ail became a blank!
What passed afterward I know not.
When I awoke to consciousness I
found myself lying on a bed in a dark?
eued room. A strange female was
standing by its side, talking in a low
tone of voice to anohter stranger.
“He seems better to-day, doctor,”
said she, “much better.”
I asked for my wife: they told me
to be quiet, that I had been very ill,
and inquired how I felt ? I answered
not, for gradually past events came
back to my recollection. I remember
ed everything—even my last kiss on
her clay-cold lips. I knew that she
was dead, aud asked them what,they
had done with her ? At first they hes
itated, but at leugth they told me that
she had been buried.. Buried!- my
Emily! my wife! Again I ceased to re
member. The delirium which accom
panied the fever that had attacked me,
returned. AU was chaos.
Seven months elapsed ere I recover
ed, and since that time my days have
been passed iu tears, and in prayer, at
her grave; my nights in dreaming of
her goodness, her affection aud my
terrible sin. Years have rolled away
since she was consigned to the tom
years of suffering—of remorse—m
which L clothed my spirit in sackcloth
and heaped ashes on its head. Aly
deep repentance has at last procured
forgiveness. Last night she s e
NUMBER, K
