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THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL
JiY AYES TON & COMBS.
gatoson twlcffiln fonnial,
PUBLISURI* EVERY THURSDAY.
TK RMS—Strictly in . fifrrnicr.
Tlirce months * 75
Si* months 1 25
Oae year 2 00
ADVERTISING RATES :
NO. SQUARES. ,
I ONE MONTH.
| TWO MONTHS.
!
| THREE m’tHS.
I
SIX MONTHS.
ONE TEAR. |
ONE. $ 300 $ 500 t 1 00 *l2 50 S2O 00
I I
TWO 500 750 10 00 18 00 25 00
! i
THREE 7 00 10 00 12 Ou 20 00. 30 00
TOUR 9001200 16
$ 10 00 1300 25 00| 40 00 80 00
I
| 15 00 26 00 35 00, 60 00,110 00
] col. 25 001 40 00 60 00 110 00 200 0
To *ldverliscrs :— The money for ad
vertising considered due after first inser
tion.
Advertisements inserted at intervals to he
charged as new each insertion.
An additional charge oj' 10 per cent will
be made on advertisements ordered to be in
serted on a particular page.
Advertisements under the head of “Spe
cial Notices” will be inserted for 15 cents
por line, for the first insertion, and 10 cents
per line for each subsequent insertion.
Advertisements in the “ Local Column,”
will be inserted at 25 cents per line for the
first, and 20 cent-per line for each subse
quent insertion. .
All communications or letters on business
intended for this office should be addressed
to “The Dawson Journal”
Lyon, DeGraffenricd anti Irviu.
Attorneys at Law,
lACOJI, ■ - - GEORGIA.
A TTILL give attention 'o professional bus
> V iness in the Macon, South-western fi
Batauia Circuits ; in the U S Courts, anSa
vannah, and zltlanU, and by speenl con
tract iu any part of the State.
F. M- HA.XiJPJEK~
Jlttipy a/id Colpllof at La\v
s
D.IFFSOJ, G.l.
DR. G. W. FARRAR
HAS located in this city, and offers b ; s
Professional services to the public
Office next door to tbe “Journal Office,” on
Main Street, where he can be found in the
dav, uuless professionally engaged, and at
night at his residence opposite the Baptist
church ' feb. 2-. it.
K. j 7 V/ AR R EN, "
ATTORNEY AT LAYv,
SWffKSriLtJ?, - - - G.I.
G. W. WARWICK,
Att’y at Law and Solicitor in Equity
SMITHVILLE, UA.
Will practice in South Wesern and Patau la
circuits. Collections promptly remitted.
n A. CCLLIKII. C, T. CHKVES,
TOWNS HOUSX2,
ESUUAb ST.,
A LI SANY, GA
liY
85. A. COLLBBJI & CO. .
McAFE HOUSE,
At SiuiUmlif, <>a.
MffiE undcr.signeu having fitted up the Me*
l Jkfee 7/ouse at Smithville, takes pleasure
in notifying the travelling public that the
above house is now in the “full t.ide”of suc
cessful administration bv himself. He will
spare no expense to make it a First-Class
Hotel. JTeals ready on the arrival of the
rain. ‘ \V. M. Mc.VFEE.
PROVISION
111 THE!
W e arc now prepared to sell
PROVISIONS ON TIME
CBIJI At TUCKER.
M y*2s, ts-
TERRFLL SHERIFF SAMI.
\\ T II.L be sold, beforo the Court House
’ * door, in the town of Dawson, in said
county, ou the fust Tuesday in October next,
withiu the legal hours of sale, the followiu"
described lot :
and Lot in the town of Dawson,
dumber not known, but known us tl:c bouse
and lot improved by James \V. Eaton, and in
front of N. C. Greer’s residence*- Levied on
as die property of Letoy Brown to satisfy a
fi fa issued from ltandolph Superior Court in
favor of Albert Lehman, vs. I.erov Brown.
■°Pt. 7 td. W M. JvJJGL/Tf.'Sheiiir.
'COTTON I
CAMPBELL &. JONES
Again offer their services to Planters and
Merchants, as
Warehouse & Commission
MERCHANTS,
ask a continuance of the patronage so
liberally given them the past season.
Olose personal attention given to the
a ge aud Sale of Cotton, and to the filling of
orders for Uagging and Ties and Plantation
Supplies.
Kefer to the patrons of the past season.
Remember the place—
Iron Warehouse,
Poplar s>l., MACOS, GA.
P. S.—Agents for the Winship Improved
Cotton Gin and John Mcrrynian & Co.’s Jin
tnoniated Dissolved Bones, which wc now of
fer at a reduced price. soptl l Stu
tan Business Directory.
I>ry Goods Me roll ants.
pRI.TI, ,% TI'CRTR, Dealers itl
Dry Goods Clothing, Bools and Shoes
Groceries &c. yllso agents for some of the
most approved Fertilizers. Main Street
I/rTMEK. al'cr in
4 V Staple and Fancy Dry Goods, Groceries
Hardware, Crockery etc.
/ W. I\ Dealer In Fancy andgta-
V/p le l)r y Go°ds, Main at., next dooi to
J. \V . He and die It’d.
Grocery Merchants
KOOI», EL SI.» Dealer in Groceries and
family supplies generally, at W. P.
Orr’s old stand, under ‘Journal” Office
•duin at.
T GA EEXS, .!, Id. Grocer and Com
M J mission J/erchaut, Dealer in Bacon,
-r lour, F.iquors, Ac.
RU'. 2zi f2 l . ,S. Grocer dealer in Ba
cou. Flour, Lard, Tobacco, Ac.
HARDWAKE.
I Eld & BROTHER, Dealers in
1J Hardware. Iron and Steel, Wagon Tim
b*rs, and Plantation Tools. Also MrnnLc
Hirers of Tiu Ware,Main st., at J. B. Peny’s
old stand. 1
[|URWJt, AABREW. Dealer
* ' in Dry Goods, Groceries, Hardware Cut
terlv, Furniture, Ist door from the Hotel.
BruggiMs.
f iIIIiA'S ISA 41, <C- A.. Druggist and
Physician. Will visit by dav or night,
patients iu Town will prescribe for
any and all the ills that flesh is heir to.
Keeps a complete supply of Drugs and Mods
iciues. School Books and stationary—Gar
den Seeds Ac , Ar his 01. l stand, The
Red Drug Store on Main St., .TEUJ/S Strict
ly Cash.
fANES, DBS. .1. R., Dealer in
ft Drugs, J/edicines, Oils, Paints, Dye
Stulfs, Garden Seed, &c., Ac.
Livery
JARISCE. A. G. & .8. Is., Sale,
E Foed and Livery Stable. Carriages,
Hacks, Buggies, Drays, Wagons, Harness
and Mules for sale or hire. Horses boarded
at reasonable rales. Depot Street.
BE lOvSAHTH SBIOi\
IVARU, EATCALL. Will make
v t and repair Wagons, Buggies Plows,
Dickson Sweep, Shoeing horses, near Post,
Office-. Always ready to co work good and
cheap Jan. 19 lv
SUBSCRIPTIONS
Aro respec fully solicited for the cietion of
MONUMENT
TO TIIE
Canfgderale Dsad of Georgia,
And those Soldiers from other Confederate
Statca who were killed or died in this State.
THE MONUNENT TO COST *50,000.
The Corner Stone if is proposed shall b?
laid on the 4th of July, or so soon thereafter
as the receipts will permit.
For every Five Puffers subscribed, there
will he given a certificate of Life Membership
to the the Monumental Association. This
ceiliiuate will entitle the owner thereof to an
equal interest in the Following property, to ba
di.-f ibuted as soon as requisite nuuibois ot
stiares arc sold, t*-wit .*
Fust, Nine Hundred and one acres
of Land in Lincoln countv, Geor
gia, on which are the well known
J/ igrader Gold and Copper Mines
veined at *l5O 000
And to Seven een Hundred and Forty
four shares in Oue Hundred Thousand DoF
lars of United Stales currency, to-wlt :
1 Share of $10,000..... SIO,OIO
1 •> .. 5,u0,) 5,'00
2 “ 2,501..::..“.. 5,C10
to “ 2,n00 sn.h'o
It) “ 1,000 10,000
20 “ 500 10,0011
100 “ 100 10,(11.0
200 “ 50 10.000
400 “ 20 10,000
1000 “ 10 10,000
SIOO,OOO
Tlio value of the separate interest to which
the holder of each certificate w ill be entitled,
will te determined by the Commissioners,who
will amiout.ee to the public the manner, the
time ami place of distiibution.
The following gentlemen heve consented
to act as commissioners, and wil) ei her by a
committee from their own body, or by spe
cial trusters, appointed by themselves, re
ceive and take proper charge of the money
for the Monument, as well us the Real A'state
and the U. S. Currency offcied as induce
ments f.r subscription, and will determine
upon the plan for the Monument, the inscrip
tion thereon, the site therefor, select an ora
tor for the occasion, and regulate the cere
monies to be observed when the corner
stone is laid, to-'vit :
Generals L Mel.aws, A. R- Wright, M. A.
Stovall, W. M. Gardiner, Goode Br.von, Colo
nels, C. Suead, Wm. P- Crawford, Majors
Joe. B. Cumming, Geo. T Sacksan, Joseph
Ganalil, I. P. Girardcy, ITon. It. H. May,
Adam Johnston, Jonathan M. Miller, W. 11.
Goodrich, J. D. Butt, Henry Moore, Dr. W.
E Hearing. .
The Agerds in the respective counoes will
retain the money received for the sale of
Tickets until the subscription books are
closed. In order that the several amounts
may be returned to the .Share-holders, in case
the Dumber of subscriptions will not war
raut any further proceedure, «lie Hgents will
report to this office, weekly, the result of
their sales. When a sufficient number of
the shares are sold, the zlgeuts will teceivc
notice. They will then forward to this office
Che amounts received.
L. A A. H. McLAWS, Gen. A ’ts,
No. 3 01 and I’. O. RuDge, Mclnthsli st..
Mat 18-ts. Angus:.., G.-
W. F. Combs, of Dawson, Ga , will be g.ud
to give information and receive subscriptions.
LAWTOA A tt IGMAGHAJI,
successors to
LAWTOA At LAW fOS, j
fourthstkkkt,
jHacoii, Georgia,
VV AIV E If olf S K
Cotton and Commission Merchants.
Advances rende on Cotton in Store when
desired. Guano Dcrdern. nug.x-1 ..
Terrell Court of Ordinary
At CnAMBKB3, Sapt 13, IS7I.
IT ia ordered lhat the following per centum
be. aud the same is hereby levied on the
tateTax, as a County Tux lor Terrell coun
ty for the year ISTl.to-wit : Twelve and one
half P tr cent, for the salaries of the
District Judge and Solicitor; ninety-two and
one fourth (92i) per cent, for building fund
seven and ll.ree-fouitbs (7H per cent, for
educational fund; three (3) pur cent, for
bridge fund; twenty-seven and on c bait
(2li) percent for county purposes; sevens
teen (17) per cent, for pauper fund; aud hf
temiOt.) per cent, for
DAWSON, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 187 L
Ml’ld’S HIiTTtR jiloaißSTh.
Dlfo Ims its moments
Os beauty and bloom ;
But they liaug like sweet rones
On the edge of the tomb.
iUessinga they bring us,
As lovely as brief.
They meet us wlieu happy,
-But leave i*s iu grief,
II ties of the morning,
Ringing the sky,
Come on the sunbeams,
And «ts with them fly.
(Shadows of evening
Hang roft on the shore;
Darkness emvrnps them,
We see them uo more.
So life’s better moments;
J n brilliance appear.
Drawning in beauty,
Our journey to choer-
Kound us they linger,
hike shadows of even ;
Would that we, like them,
-Wight melt into /7eaven.
Front Grahams Mag:uiuc
Pride.
An old Mais’s dory.
I was left an orphan at an early
ago, but with immense wealth, after
arriving at manhood 1 enjoyed all that
untrammeled loisuro and money all
could procure mo. 1 travelled abroad
and for somo years pursued thoso
amusements and pleasure which the
old world, with its experience of luxu
ry, 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', 1 wished, when
I married, to return there and inaho it
my home. Ihshlth >i g tit would he
better to select a wife from my own
countrywomen—one who would ho
content to settle down to the domestic
of her own homo. I shrank irom se
lecting my future life-companion
among the gay, brilliant belles of for
eign circles. No. I was wearied of
out-doors life, and pined for some now
sphere of enjoyment. A quiet married
life would procure liappiuness for me
I felt sure ; and on my voyage homo,
I built all sorts ot domestic Vhsautcaux
tl' Enparuje.
1 thought it would be very' easy in
my own country to obtain just the kind
ot woman I wanted. 1 had no fears
of my success. 1 knew I had a fine
personal appearance and good address
which would, oi course, secure the
heart of the happy lady of my selec
tion ; then my handsome fortune and
excellent position in society would
smooth away all family difficulties,
liut after my return homo I found
there wero as many obstacles existing
to my mariaigo as abroad ; the women
were tho same—beautiful, accomplish
ed, interesting, but mere women of tho
world.
I bocame the fashion, of course, aud
was a mark for scores of manceuvering
mammas and lair daughters. No oue
asked what faults I had, or wether
my disposition was such as to ensure
happinnoss in married life. My pas
siuuate, willfull temper was termed a
becoming spirit, my selfishness was
either overlooked or uncared for. X
possessed every charm of mi ad and
person, because I was an excellent
match. Disgusted, I almost resolved
old bachelorhood for tho rest of my
; life.
Ono summer, after recovering from !
an attack of’ illness, I happened, by
1 chance, iu travelling in pursuit of my
lost health, to stop at a sea-bathing
place, quite unknown to the fashiona
ble world. It was so unlike every oth-!
cr watering-placo 1 had ever been at,
that I resolved to remain there until
I wearied of it as I had of every thing
elso.
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 ha l been college friends ;
: and though they had but rarely met
■ .alter they had left college, the recol-
I leclion of their boyish intimacy was so
; pleasant to Mr. Grayson that he re
! reived tho son of his old friend warm
:ly and affectionately. I passed over
|my introduction to his family. From
! my first interview with Emily Gray-
I son 1 felt interested in her, an intimate
1 acquaintance hut increased that inter
i cst. I soon penetrated her character
—not a very difficult task, for never
liavo I seen a faco so expressive of tho
feelings of tlio soul as hers. Her ac
tions, too, wore dictated alone by the
impulses of a puro heart. I found
that slio was artless, intelligent and af
fectionate; these wero the qualities
which I had determined that my fu
ture v.ifo must possess. Nevertheless
slio had faults. Her curling lip, her
expanded nostriol and Hashing eye,
when circumstances aroused her, indi
cated that sho possessed an impetuous
j temper, with so small quantity of
' pride. I soon found that sho was
rather self-willed, hut 1 excused this
! fault, for she had always been the pot
; ted plaything of parents, friends, and
1 teachers. These were her only errors,
1 and 1 thought they might easily be cor
j rooted, for while harshness hut incens-
I ed her, she was easily controlled by
■ gentleness as a child. Suffice it to say
j that she came nearer my ideal than
; any one I had ever met with, and I dc
itermined to win her.
1 loved her as I had never loved a
i woman. I read with her favorite au
i thors and mine ; I walked and rode,
1 sung and talked with her. i told hor
'of the'hinds I had visited—of the won
i ders I had seen ; and when, at last, I
' gave utterance to my love, my words
fell on a willing ear ; and 1 soon ob
tained permission to ask her hand of
I p C r parents. Great was their aston
-1 iabment w hen they heard their girlish
aughter demanded in marruigo. Th
l had seen in)’ attentions, it was true;
but they had looked .»-me as so much
her senior—slm was bst sixteen, I be
yond thirty—that she had novor ima
gined the possibility of my becoming a
lover. However, when they found
that Emily really lovtrTn i, they offer
ed no objections, stipulating, however,
that our marraigo should ho deferred
lor ono year, that wo might study each
other’s character more closely during
that time, with tin* additional request
that our betrothal should not ho nindy
public. If at tho expiration of that
tiuio wo both remain.d unchanged,
they promised that she should becoino
mine. I pleaded in vain for a speedy
marraigo. I feared that the prize
which 1 had won might possibly bo
lost to mo; and with a’i my natural
impetuosity of D n t or, 1 sought to so
curo immediately L„t i ’’jpod would
perfect my day-cream u. happiness.
They wero firm.
“Theii daughter,” they snM, “was
very young, and might post ibly have
mistaken a girlish liking for a more
serious attachment. 1, too, might ho
influenced by a passing fancy.”
1 yoilded to what f could not con
trol, but there was a source of satisfac
tion mingled with my disappointment.
1 saw that my wealth had no infim-nco
iu their decision, and tho fear which
had always haunted mo —of being
married from mercenary motives, was
destroyed, at length 1 was loved—
fondly and devotedly loved, aud for
myself alone.
The year passed aw ay moro rapidly
than 1 had anticipated. Oh ! what a
happy year was that! Friendless,
alone, a sorrow-stricken old man, ou
the verge of the grave, 1 look back up
on that pevi-d as tho sunny hour of
my existence. In my dreams 1 recall
it, aud once again those happy days,
with their bright hopes, their blisslull
realities, are mine. Hut to my story.
Dady my betrothed grew' nearer aud
dearer to me; though modesty res
trained any protestations el' love, her
sileuco was more eloquent tl.au words.
The year passed happily away, and
my wedding day arrived.—l would
have made it the occasion of a grand
festival; i wished the world to witness
my proud joy ; hut my bride looked on
marraige as too solemn, too serious a
thing tor mirth.
A prouder, if not a happier man,
w as 1 when, after wo had finished the
bridal tour, she was at last installed as
mistress ot n:y magnifieent^mansion—
when I received the congratulation:; of
my friends, and heard tho whispered
murmur of admiration which her
beauty excited. Fete after Jele was
given to her, aud we plunged into the
niielstrdin of fashionablo matrimonial
dissipation. Emily, however, profored
tho quiet pleasure of home to the gay
scenes into which she was introduced
—and so, in truth, did I ; but my van
ity rejoiced in her triumphs. Seclud
ed as she had been from society, sho
had uono of tho faults of the inliated,
and 1 was proud to contrast her artless
m.affbctcd mien, and modest dignity,
with the stateless pretensions of thoso
around her.
At length tho bridal parties were over
and iu the quietude of our homo our
characters began gradually to unfold
themselves iu each other’s view. I
found that I was not mistaken iu my •
estirnato of my wife’s love. It was a
deeper and more devoted affection than
I had even dreamed would ever be
come mine, iblio loved mo with all
tho v'arnuh of her warm, impetuous
nature; her faults were not called into
action, and she was radiant w ith all
those good qualities which so delight
a man. How very happy we were ;
how very happy we might have re
mained. My moenot perfect love was
at its full. 1 stood on tlio topmost pin
nacle of happiness. Hitherto I had
mused over tho poet’s lay of love ; 1
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 ot
delight—that Eden of bliss which 1
enjoyed w ith my Emily. All was joy,
all w r as brightness : hut the shadow
descended upon my heart—l brought
it there —I fed it —I nursed it, until
the light of joy was extinquished—un
til tho sun of happiness had departed
forever.
I have said that my temper was
naturally voilent; that 1 was obstinate;
that I was selfish. Previous to my j
marraige, circumstances had kept this
infirmity of disposition in check, and
for somo months after 1 controlled it.
It had but slumbered- it was. not
quenched ; and I, who had undertaken
to correct this very fault in another,
now, myself, became its slave. The
bonds were broken ; the first unkind
words wore spoken those words
which are so easily spoken repeated
after they have once occurred. The
first quarrel—that sad era in married
life —had taken place between us, and
Loth felt that perfect lovo which wo
had hitherto enjoyed could luturn no
more. Could wo over divest ourselves
of the memory of those cruel words?
“But we might still he comparatively
happy if this evil occured no more
so said my weeping wife, when, after |
a passion of tears, site offered mo her j
hand. Things passed on smoothly for j
a time; but the bonds wore broken, ;
aud 1 ceased to chock tho ebullitions j
of anger which the slightest eireum- |
stanco callod forth. Before j
tlio second year of my marraigo j
life had passed away, I became that
worst of ali oppressors—a house-hold
tryant. At any annoyance, no matter
how slight—if my meals were notpre
pacod at the appointed hours—if a pa
per, or book was mislaid—l would
j giro way to oppressions of anger of
| which, afterward, I really felt asham
' oil, knowing how unworthy they wore
of a man; and yot, when again auger.
od, I repeated them, and moro violent
ly than before. My wife boro this
with patience, but her indulgence
ehag'id me, aud I sometimes uttered
taunts which fie human being could
suffer in silonco. Then came a reply
and when this reply did come—such
scenes as oecured ! I would work luy
self into an insano passion, and utter
words which in my cooler moments I
shuddered at, and which invariably
drove her weeping from tho room. And
yet, soon after, would she come to mo
and beg to bo lorgivou for tho very
words w hich 1 had forced her to utter.
The demon within me rejoiced to see
her pride thus humbled before mine,
for never, no matter how much in
tault, did 1 seek a reconciliation. My
temper became more violent, and at
length, in one of our usual quarrels, I
proposed a seperation. Had a serpent
stung her she would not have gazed on
it as she did on me. Never shall 1
forget her lock, so deathly pale, as
she came near mo and placed let
hand upon my arm.
“Horace said she, “do you think ” I
could survive such an act! 1 Do you
think 1 would cast a stain upon my
young sisters ? Do you think I would
send my gray-haired parents sorrow
ing to thegravo ? Would seo another
woman your bride ? Would bear the
woi Id’s sneering pity 'I Never ! never I
—1 will die first, l'orseeuto me, tor
ture me. Inflict every refinement of
cruelty upon mo, even striko me, if
you will; but never will I consent to
such a proceeding—never shall tlio
world call mo other than your wife so
long as we both shall livo. You came
to mo when I was young aud happy ;
you took mo from a homo where I
novel* had known sorrow ; you have
blighted tho hopes of my young life,
and now, you seek to cast mo away
like a toy of which you have wearied.”
I recoiled at myself; but I remained
unchanged.
We had boon married four years,
and Emily had greatly changed in
that time. The gn£ and lighted girl
had become tho calm, dignified woman.
Tho world looked upon us as examples
of matrimonial happiness, for wo were
both too proud to betray tho truth.—
Os late Emily’s manner had altered ,*
sho ceased to reply to my tits of pas
sion ; neither did she now come and
seek to effect a reconciliation with me.
An icy calm reigned between us.—
This existed for somo time, but, while
1 wished it broken, my pride preven
ted mo from taking tho first advances.
Fain would L havo had it dispelled by
any moans which would not humiliate
me; for with till my unkinduoss, 1
really lovod my wife, regretted tho \io
lenee of my temper, and lamented my
want of self control, liut now—what
should Ido '( My prids fofbndo any
advances Irom my side, and 1 feared
that none would come from licrs. 1
saw at length that her pr'do was
aroused, and I dreaded that she would
obey its dictates, even though it broke
her heart, for 1 knew sho still lovod
mo. Day by day her check grow pa
ler—her form thinner, and 1 saw sho
suffered ; hut my fiendish pride would
not give way. Sometimes, when 1
had almost conquered myself, when I
had determined to effect a reconcilia
tion, when next wo mot a col l bow
from her, with her stately manner,
again awoko tho demon within me,
and my good resolutions were broken.
Thus matters stood when, one day, 1
entered the room whore sho was sit
ting, and excited by wine, which, late
ly, was frequently tho case, i com
menced upbraiding her about some
tritle. She answered not, but contin
ue! her work —a piece of delicate em
broidery. Enraged at her silence, I
snatched it fiom from her hands, threw
it on the lloor, and placed my foot on
it. Tho blood rushed to her pale
cheek—her eyes flashed with their
fire, as she sprang to her foot, and
bade me restore it to her.
“O, icicle,” I replied, “are you melt
ed at last ? Give it to you ! No, in
deed ; 1 will teach you moro respect
for your husband than you have late
ly shown. See,” 1 continued, as 1
picked it up ami tore it to fragments,
“see ! there is tho frippery you think
more worthy of your attention than
your husband. ’
“Anything is more worthy than rr.y
husband at this moment,” she replied.
“Say you so ; say you so, madam,
I exclaimed, Grasping her by tho arm,
and hissing the words through my
teeth ; then, what say you to a sepa
ration ? Yon nood not refuso, I will
have one; I will no longor livo with
such a wife. Do you consent ? answer
mo 1” I continued, shaking her by tho
arm.
“As you please,” sho replied; “noth
ing can ho worse than this.”
“You consent at last then, do you ?
Well, this very day I will commence
arrangements.”
“When you please” she replied, and
left the room
1 stood agliist at what I had done ;
I had proposed - a separation and she
had consented. 1 had said that on
that very day I would cotn.ru.jneo ar
rangements for the purpose, aud
could 1 break my word '( Could Igo
to her and hog her not to leave
me, and that, when 1 myself had pro
posed such a step ? My pride again
forbade me, aud I obeyed its dictates ;
but thero still remained a secret hope
within mo, that on cool rotleciion she,
herself, would refuse. 1 determined
to consult a lawyer in whoso secrecy 1
could confide, and make such arrange
ments as were absolutely necessary.—
i did so, and patiently awi i od tho ro
i suit. My wife did not appear again
during that day—the next morning I
found a noto on my plate at tho break
fast table: Emily was not there. 1
opened it, and found that it contained
a proposal to tho effect that she should
o permitted to join some friends who
were about to visit Europe ostensibly
ou account of her health ; and if, at
tlio expiration of that timo sho still
lived, that a permanent separation
might ho arranged; but at "present
such a thing should not bo made pub
lic. The note was written in a calm,
< lear manner, yet I thoughtthodos.ro
to avoid publicity in the affair, betrayed
seme token of relenting. I replied to
it at once, saying that I should make
no objection to sucli an arrangement,
or to any other tint .night suit her
convenience. V. itli the note 1 sent u
largo amount of money for her prepa
rations.
Tho next day wo received an invita
tion to a party, which, contrary to her
Into habits, Mrs. Mansfield accepted.
Mho sent it to mo iu a note, touting the
fact, and saying that she thought it
would afford uu excellent opportunity
to make known to society her intention
of visiting Europe. I signified my as
sent. itilling the time which inter
vened I saw my wile only at table,
where she appeared as culm as ever,
though, perhaps, a tritle paler than
usual. Hour on hour I had looked
for her pride to fail her. Deeply in
jured as sho had been, I could not
bring myself to believe that, loving mo
as she oneo had loved mo, and i loud
ly hoped still did, sho would roully
h avo mo ; but after having once made
public her intention 1 feared lost sho
might not shrink. Would she do so ?
O, how anxiously I awaited that event
ful night, and when, ut last, it caiuo,
1 was dressed and in attendance at an
unusually early hour. As i paced
tho dour anxiously, 1 hoped—l prayed
that her heart would conque;—tbit
love would subdue pri<W; but hew
could I—how dare 1 'nope it ? What
indignities had slio not borne from
me ! Ought i Yiot to bumble myself
aud ask lu r .to forgive mo '(
Had hi lo come in ut that moment I I
Would have done so, hut she came
not. 1 wondered how sho would
dross. Perhaps some carelessness in
her apparel would betray that her
mind was too much preoccupied to
think of it. I glanced at tho clock ;
it was titno that she should bo tl;ore.
Just thou she entered, and as pale and
calm as usual 1 looked at her dress;
it was of dark velvet, trimmed with j
rich lace—she had worn such a dress ,
in happier days Localise I admired it, I
and thought that it became her style
ot beauty. But now what was her
object. Did she desire to please mo
still, or was 1111111)11? 1 glanced at
hos arms—on her nock ;—sho wore a
set of diamonds which 1 gave her
shortly alter our uiarriuge. She rare
ly wore thorn at first, because she
thought them unsuitable ornaments
for one so young, bill now, when she
looked so queenly and moved 30 state
ly, they gave to her a grandeur which
startled mo_
I coulu detect no carelessness in her
dross—no agitation in her manner.—
Her baud trembled not when I led her
to tho carrxago, She showed 110 emo
tion during our drive to the scene of
festivity. Could this ho tho light
hearted girl I married a few short
years age ? Could this cold, this
haughty, this imperial woman, he tho
gentle, the loving, tho delicate wife of
other days '( 1 heard tho murmur of
admiration which greeted her; 1 saw
group after group of flatterers gather
ing aronml iter, and I wandered thro’
tho crowd like ono in opium dream,
until, at last, 1 reached a conservatory,
where I concealed myself, and thought
of her —thought of her us when first j
1 met her. I looked back on the hap
py hours of our betrothal—on tho hap
pier days of our early married life.—
I recalled her joyousnoss of spirit—her
frank confidence of manner—her deop
lovo—our former happiness—our pres
ent misery ; and 1 remembered that it
was 1 that had wrought tho eiiango.
In a lew days wo should part—per
haps forever —part while our hearts
were full of love lor each other ! Nev
er had 1 adored her as at that hour,
and 1 determined that sho should not
leave mo.
Just thou tho voice of 0110 singing
reached me. Tho tones seemed famil
iar : I could not bo mistaken : Tho
voice was hers. I hastily repaired to
the room from’wbich it proceeded, and
placing myself in a position from
which i could seo tlio singer without
being seen by her, listened until tho
song was finished. .She was about to
arise, when several voices asked for
another song—for ono which at once
had been a favorite of hors—of mine.
Her face flushed, and then paled again
when it was placed before ner i’er
haps she thought of how often sho had
bung that song for mo. Iu my eager
ness I hud pressed forward, aud just
when bho hesitated, her eyes met mine.
.Sim immediately complied. Her voieo
faltered at first, but recovering herself,
sho sang it through to tho ond. Jt
was a lay of happy lovo. When it
was finished, she raisod her eyes for
a moment, and only a moment, to
mine, aud then commenced another—
one 1 hal never heard before —tho
story of a proud heart broken ! The
words se-jrued to como from hor very j
soul. The tones of her voice will ring ,
in my ears until they aro dulled by
death A deep, painful silence per
vaded the room. Tears stood in many !
bright eyes, red lips quivered with
one tiou. Then sho ceased and arose
from her seat, hut so paio was slio 1
foarud sho would faint.
Wo soon after returned homo. The
distance was short, but the time seem
ed an ago until wo reached our house.
I would have given worlds to have
spoken and to liavo told her all—all
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 home, and
she bado mo “good-night,” could I ut
ter a word. Then and only then I
VOL VI. —NO 33.
stammered out a request that sho
would remain for a lew moments.—
iShe closed tho door and returned td
her chair, raising her large, dark eyes
, inquiringly to mine. 1 hesitated,
j ‘Emily,’ at last said I—l had not
called her so for months heforo—‘Em
ily, will you not sing mo those songs
you sung to-night.’
| ‘Certainly, if you wish it,’ she re
plied, and seating herself ut the pia
, no, she sang them again iu a clear;
calm tone.
1 had determined when tho songs
were finished to seek a reconciliation ;
hut tho demon, pride, whispered, ‘will
you bo less firm than she '(—this can
not last: why humiliate yourself ?’—
i Alas, I listened aud obeyed ! I suf
-1 red the last opportunity to recall our'
happiness to escape. Bride, the ty
ruut, was obeyed, and 1 suffered her
to leave the room with a cold “good
night.” 1 wont up into my own lone
ly chamber, and sat down, and pon
dered un tho events of the evening, re
gretting my folly in suffering my pride’
again to master 1110.
1 hoard my \\ ifo moving about her
room, which adjoined my own, and
then, suddenly, a heavy fall anil a low
groan ! 1 rushed into her apartment
and found her extended on the floor.
I raised her in my arms, and to my
horror ! her white night-dress was '
erod with blood, which wag, strean.° V *
from her mouth. TJtfj truth Hashed
upon mo at ori/g,-< s i lo j lA q broken a
blood V j-rs'el; h lio would die ! 1 sprang
to kVie bell. In a few minutes, which
seemed an age, tho servants entered
the room, hut stopped horror-stricken
at beholding their beloved mistress apv
parontly in tho agonies of doatli !
“The doctor ! u doctor, quick !” I
shouted—“she will ilio - sho will dio !”
In a second they wore all gone savei
her maid, who was sobbing and pray
ing, while sho wiped tho blood front
the blue lips of her expiring mistress.
O, wlmt agony I sulferod during the
interval which ensued before tho arri
val of the physician ! I called her by
tho dearest titles ; I begged her but to
spoak ono word, 1 entreated Lor to
forgive me—only to smile once more !
.She slowly opened her largo eyes; A
slight smile passed over her face, and
sho was—dead ! Just then tho phys
siciiins entered. I would not —I could
nut believe that sho was really no rnord
that God had taken lior from mo/
1 begged and prayed of them to exert
their skill—to save her !
“ft will he useless to attempt it,”
was their passionless reply ; “no pow
er can restore her 1”
1 did not boliovo them. My wife
was not—could not bo dead ! I clasp
ed her in my arms ; 1 kissed her brow
—hoi lips ; and all became a blank !
What passed afterward I know not.
When I awoko to consciousness, I
found myself lying on a bod in a dark
ened room. A strange female was
standing by its side, talking in a lew
tone of voice to another stranger.
“He sooms hotter to-day, doctor,”
said sho, “much bettor.”
I asked for my wife ; they told mo
to ho quiet, that 1 had been very ill,
and inquired how 1 felt. I answered
not, for gradually past events camd
hack to my recollection. I remein
bored everything—oven my last kiss
on her clay-cold lips. 1 knew that
sho was dead, and asked them what
they had done with her. At first they
hesitated, hut at length they told mo
that she had boon buried. Buried !
my Emily I my wife ! Again I ceased
to remember. Tho delirium which
accompanied tho fever that had at
tacked mo, returnod. All was chaos:
Seven months elapsod ero I recov
ered, and since that timo my days
have boon passed in tears, and iu
prayer, at her grave; my nights iu
dreaming of her goodness, lior affbc-'
tion and my terrible sin. Years hard
rolled away since she was consigned,
to tlio tomb —years of suffering—of
remorse—in which I clothed niy spir
it in sackcloth aud heaped ashes on its
head. My deep repentance has at
last procured forgiveness. Last night
she smiled upon mo in my dreams and
beckoned mo away. I most joytully
acknowledge the summons. Ere many
days 1 shall pass tho portals of mystic
hind whore sorrow comes not, and
forgetting all my crimes I shall abide
with my angel forever aud forevor.
You cannot escape from anxiety and
labor; it is tho destiny of humanity.
Happiness grows at our own fire
sides and is not to bo,picked up in the
strangers garden.
Host satisfied w ith doing well, aftd
leave others to talk of you as they
please.
If sin is turned out of our hearts by
graco, it will bo turned out of out
houses too.
The only way to avoid evil, is to fill
up every passing hour to the glory of
God.
A widower was recontly rejected by
a'daiusel who didu't waut affections
that had boeu “warmed over.”
“Tis strange,’ mutterod a young
man as ho staggered home from a din
ner party, ‘how evil comnmuieatforui
corrupt good manners. I’ve boon sur
rounded by tumblers all the evouing,
aud now I’m a tumbler.’
Itemantic Amelia (to her betrothed
young doctor) —‘Look, dear, such n
beautiful sunset! Tho sky i« all crim
son.” Unromatic Doctor —‘Ya-as—
appears to liavo had a mustard plaster
! ou.” — I’uuch.
Airs. Mokor, a strong-miudod wo>-
1 man from Atlanta, announced! fror
self for a lecture on matrimony in
j Covington a few evenings siuoo; but
failed to attract an aardsouoe.’