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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