The home journal., May 05, 1859, Image 1

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OME
QXTRNAL.
S l
nn
Volume III.
Site ?wvttal
"HctlKrd to Party' rliltniry away,
We Billow Trulh where'er ah lends (he way."
AUKNTH i'Olt Til LTJ O U KX Air
K. M. PKTTIN(jHjL & CO.,. . . . New York.
JOHN P. HEFNER, ......Winchester.
T J. CUMMINUS rulliihoiiitt.
JOHN B. RHODES Shelbyvillo-
C. A. HUNT , Salem.
I. GILDERS1J5EVE Fayetiovillo.
A. M. TEN1SON. . . ...... ... . . fowhville.
JJ Subscriptions for a shorter time
lhan one year must be paid in advance.
gtjjf" Hereafter no club subscription
At loss than tho regular price ($2) will
be received. However, when a club of
five subscribers is sent us, we will allow
an extra copy gratis to the getter-up of
tho club.
JSSTSingle copies sold at 10 cents.
CSkT" When credit for the paper is civ
en to the end of the year threo dollars .
win uv tn vur iwty cuniguu.
JLearn to Spelt.
Bad spelling is discreditable. Ev
ery young man and woman shou'.d bo
a master of their native tongue, lie
that will not learn to spell the lan
guage that is in his tongue, and be
fore his eyes and nose every hour,
shows no great aptitude for the duties
of the intelligent, observing man.
Had spelling, therefore, is a discredit
able indication. It indicates a blun
dering person that cannot see with
his eyes open. So, we have known,
in our time, the application of moro
than one young man, made with great
display of penmanship, and parade, of
references, rejected for his very had
spelling. Dad spelling is a very bad
indication. Ho who runs may read
it. A bright schoolboy, utterly inca
pable of appreciating your stores of
science, ai t, and literature, can see
your blunders. You will find it hard
to inspire that boy with any great re
spect for your attainments. Bad
spelling, therefore, is a very mortify
ing inconvenient delect. We have'
known men and women thrown into
very prominent positions, so ashamed
of their delieieney in this respect,
that they never ventured to send a
letlcruutil.thad been revised ,y " i
friend. Thus was, to say the. least 0.1
insufficiently inconvenient. J
We say again, hunt lo sVdl. Keep j
your eyes open when you read and
write; and if any word is spelt dill'cr
ently from your mode, ascertain which
is right. Keep your dictionary before
you, and in writing, whenever you
have the least misgivings about the
spelling of a word, look at it at once. '
and remember it. Do not let your la- j
it mess, young man or woman, gel tne
advantage of you.
Constant Shnploymatl.
The man who is obliged to be em
ployed to earn the necessaries of life
and support his family knows not the
uuhappiuess he prays for when he
desires wealth and idleness. To be
constantly busy is to lie always hap
py. Persons Who have sudddenly
acquired wealth, broken up their ac
tive pursuits, and begun to live nt
their ease, waste away and die in a
very short time. Thousands would
have been blessings to the world, and
added to the common slock of happi
ness, if they had been content to re
main in nn humble sphere, and earn
ed every mouthful of food that nour-1
ished their bodies. But no, fashion
and wealth took possession of them,
and they were completely ruined.
They ran away from peace and pleas
ure, and embraced a lingering death.
Ye who arc sighing for the pomp and
splendor of life, beware ! Vo kinnv
not what you wish. No situation,
however exalted; no wealth, however
magnificent; no honors, however glo
rious, can jiehl you .-.olid enjoyment
while discontent lurks in your bosom.
The secret of happiness lies in this
to he always contented whh your lot,
.and never sigh for the splendor of rich
es, or the magnificence of fashion and
power. Persons who are al ways busy
and go cheerfully to their daily tasks,
..are the least disturbed by the fluctu
ations of business, and at night sleep
with perfect composure.
The IVcuthcr.
Don't be alarmed, reader wo are
iiotgoiiigtopreachasertiH.il on the
-weather of to-day, nor that of yester
day, nor of a year ago nor even to
speculate on what sort of weather
we shall have a year hence. Wo on
ly mean to speak of the weather im
personally and generally, leaving all
ihe science of meteorology, and the
phenomena therewith connected, for
some one else to talk about. What
on earth would people do were-it not
for the weather f What would bore
talk about? How would our old
friend Hill over at Fayetteville, make
a living, or find anything to put in his
almanac ? And what on earth could
we write about just now, were it not
for the weather? What excuse
would one have for not visiting his
friends. In short, what could we find
fault with when out of temper, espe
cially when tho weather has preven
ted a young man from going to see
his sweetheart ! What can make one
feci worse than a cold, drizzling rain,
falling on the soggy, steaming earth
when the shy looks like an old zino
stove-hearth, and the air feels like wet
woolen.
Then again, fine weather Is just ns
good in a different way. We are all
susceptible to the influence of sun
shine, just as we are to smiles and
kind words. A pure and balmy at
mosphere exhilerates. us no less than
pure champaigne. (Uy-the-wny,dou't
suppose we have been indulging late
ly.) On the whole, the weather is a
great institution, and isol'tencranath-
ematized than one supposes,
The
fair maiden gets her a new dress and
wan's to exhibit it, but alas! a rainy
Sunday blights her wish. If she does
not say anything, she "thinks a heap."
A party is to come off, and prepara
tions are made, when lo! a rainy day
ruins all. May Day is proposed to be
celebrated, and the gallant young
gents and fancy young maidens are
on tiptoe of expectation, but the
weather interferes and they sec their
fun all "knocked in the head."
Still we say, hurrah for tho weath
er. We must have it. and there's no
use of fret ting about it.
A stranger in Winchester the other
day asked us where Mr. lived.
Tho streets in our town not being
named, we told him as briellynnd con
cise as possible, to go up that street,
(pointing to it.) and he would come to
a big brick house on his left and a
yellow or oream colored one 'on his
right. Then pass these and he wdild
come to a white house on the next
street. Then turn to his left and pass
another house with trees around it
and at the end of the street, nearly he
would pass another frame house, and
the next house was where Mr.
lived. The gentleman started and
lost his wav. and lookim? fur the name
tie s(l,M;t llC W11S oll1( ,,
, rru.m.di wondering why the
s(r(:(.(s U! gooJ t)Wn of Willcll(,s.
cb(igtep firi, ot wuwA
To-morrow is like a juggler that
deceives us; a quack that pretends to
cure us. and thin ice that will not bear
our weight. It is fruit beyond our
grasp; a glittering bubble that bursts
and vanishes away; a will-o'-the-wisp
that leads many into the mire, and a
roeK tliat many manners have
struck and sulfered shipwreck. It. is
illusion to all who neglect the present
hour, and a reality to those only who
improve to day.
Forrest, the actor, has lately recov
ered of N. P. Willis, the poet, the sum
of one hundred dollars damages in an
action for libel. In the South, such
matters are determined by a very dif
ferent tribunal. Instead of I he report
ofa jury, we have the report of a six
shooter. . . - . .. .
The Painter and his Master.
A young painter had finished an ex
cellent picture the beat he had ever
produced even his master found no
fault with it. The young painter was
so delighted that he contempla
ted his work incessantly, and gave up
his studies for he imagined he could
never surpass his picture.
One morning, w hen he was about
to indulge again iu the contemplation
of his work, he found that his master
had effaced the whole painting.
Weeping with rage, he ran to inquire
the cause of this cruel proceeding.
"My friend," aliSNVered the master,
"thou didst no longer love the art in
thy paiiilinc, but thyself! Believe
me, it was not perfect, even if it ap
peared oo to us; it. was but a study.
Now take the pencil again, ami try
what thou canst create! Do not re
pent of this sacrifice! The sublime
must be in thy soul before thou art
tible to represent it on canvass!"
Boldly, and full of confidence in
himself and in his master, the young
artist set to work again, and painted
his most splendid piece, " The sacri
fice of Iphigenia" for tho name ol
the artist was Timanthies.
The moral of this plain enough,
if there he those who would see it.
As says the German poet,
This suns was made to road by night
And he who reads it in the daylight
Will never read ihe mystery light;
And yet i'ts childlikeeasy.
An Irishman having been obliged to
live with his master some time in
Scotland, when he came back some of
bis companions asked boNV ho liked
Scotland.
"I will tell you how," said he, "I
was sick all the time 1 was there,
and if I had lived there till this time,
I had been dead a year ago."
Da not Utile scandaf.
I
Man t frntle ahnwtr in aultry auminur, cornel Uio fol
lowing lovely poem from 'mm of our cuitrltiiilnra. All
who rend it must aurrlycall it iui'tipi'i. Tlif ai'iilltiiant
of tlie tint vruo wiua our lulmlrulioii and makea ui aa.
artoilavourtha wlioln, Keally. wa mint hrlinva llila
master effort by tho author, It is ho simi'lf, it Bcama to
have coma from the lioart anil nut the liralu. Klitoh
Written fur tho Winchester Home Journal.
Mlain.
BV COL. 0. LEAKDKtl EtlF.RHAllT.
How I love to ace It raining,
A the silver akrlnailo reach
From Uio clouila up In the heavens,
To the riser's iiclibly heath,
How I love In ace It ralnhi;
When the gentle Summer showers,
l''roni the smiling uracil umtji wnUu
All the blushing lmt of Mower,
AiJ I love to hear it rapping
On my window Inuil anil Inn-,
Wlii'.c with nugei'H it seems tapping
To the measure ormy song,
What a world of holy meiu'rli
Now It weave-Ill Inlo wool I
As it ruppelh, softly inppctli,
On the shingles of my roof
As It lapped), wildly ruppeth,
Willi a kind of mad reproof,
On the shingles uf my roof.
01 1 love It, nmdly love itl
For before mo I can seo
A dear little loving angel
Holding out her hands to me,
Ah she used to fondly hold them,
Sitting on her motiiel's knee,
I can see u sniuted mother
Stiiiiilimt on '-the other shore,"
As sho used to stand beside me
111 the happy days of yore,
With her hand on that drarnngel,
That loved llllei g"lie liefnie.
Yes, 1 love it, wildly love ill
live the gently sobliillg rajli
l-'or within my heart it wnkelli
All the joys of youth auitii
AIL the joys it till nil Hie pain,
lloth the moaning, suhhiug ruin,
Waken ill my hear! ugi,in,
Yes, 1 love to hear It tupping,
Wildly tapping, loudly nipping,
On the pain: and on the lool't
For if hath a solemn Umliinyi
Jiath a lesson now t.ir H'lirliinit
'Ihroi'gh the future' tangled wonf.
And unerringly it lelleth
Ofa happy laud where ilwclleth
All the loved ones gone be lore l
And that in that bliwlol Aiileu,
1 shall meet a lovely maiden
Whom 1 loved In days of yore.
And where crystal streams nrc flowing,
And unfiling tlowein blowing,
W'e !hall live and loe once more.
As we did beside the i iver,
V, hen; the uutoubedius ti. ed to quiver,
In the golden di.yi ol vole ;
hive ami love Iiihhui mure.
That Is why I love the lapping,
And the ling! y, restless ruppini;
Of the i i,in upon my tool;
hy 1 love its liilul innuuiii!',
'ihloii'jh the blast abiutt me groaning,
With its Miangely wild iej if.
Ye", it 1 1 iims unto my viMnn,
h'101,1 the liapp fields clyshin,
All (he lved and losl of yore.
And it tells ii. e most eiiii hiilie,
'that in joy supreme, ect.-ilii ,
1 shall nil el Iheuion unit rime
W here is paitins; never more,
And shall ln, e'en mote fondly
Tha n in g Men days of yoie.
,
tOVI),
'
A Splendid
Brightly burned the blazing fire,
and merrily ticked the exquisite little
mantle clock, within the comfortable
and ne, illy arranged sitting-room of
Mrs. Small, whose genial face lit up
with a smile as she thought Iionv com
fortably she was situated.
I I .. . i , i :
tou.a,, aiMcsan, nott.o
lure,
ting
Mrs. Small sat with her knit-
r Unit-
11 1- 1- - . , I 1 .
iiccoics Riming noiselessly
through her fingers; Emma, her oldest
daughter, held a closed book careless-
ly within her ham!; while mischiev-
ous Bell, the younger of the ero.
was , ,.,,s a u hc Mi cu, v. itct,
,..J,Kiw.6,a,M,c.,o,,,e siucM
silk loss up..,, be tolds of her dress.
1 bey were all drawn up around the
, , . , ' .
blazing lire, and presented u beauli-
,. , . ,. ',. . ,
till tlll'tlll-l. tl lit, !1 II..f.tl,,M',ll l,,..ll.,,
' ,' ' ...
aim iiaugoicr. mere was a striking
resemblance in the form and features
of the w hole group. They were all
of very fair complexion, wiih the
lightest shade of brown hair, small in
t .
., ' , ' ..I
1 here was one other occupant ol
i
titat room Ada Ford, the orphan niece
Mr S,,,,,il si.,. M.,... ,,;,!, !,. ,i;r.
. , ,. ,
lerent in lace or loriii, Irom her mini
, ... .,
ami pretiv cousins. .ihe was lull.
with a giao'eful and Mii'lit, ai.no-t
ethe. inlfi.-urc; her hair was a rih.
glossy biack. and fell in heavy curls
a.ound her fair neck and shoulder. ;
her face was fair, with only a slight
rosesti.it upon cither cheek, and her
voice was clear and sweet as the
chimes of the joy bells. If her cousins '
were termed pretty, then might she
be called beautiful.
On the evening of which we have
spoken, she did not join in the .spirited
conversation which her aunt and
UV AN NIK I.. I, Kit A NO. !
cousins were carrying on, but she sat ! clouded for a few moments, these fears
apart from the rest, seemingly lost in were quickly dispelled by the gay rail
thought. At length Mrs. Small turned j kry of her cousins, and the motherly
to her, and said
"Why are you so pensive this even
ing. Ada?"
"I am thinking of the future aunt,"
she replied, sadly.
"And what is there in your antici-
pations of tho future to make you
gloomy?" questioned her aunt, in a so
licitous tone.
"Oh." said Emma Small, in a trav
voice, "she is grieving for the many
hearts she will break when she mar-
ries Dr. Ward."
"Ah ! chimed in Bell, "I wish I had
the assurance of as good, handsome
and intelligent a husband as Dr.
WINOIIISSTJStt, TENN,, EAY 5, 1859.
Ward. 1 would never trouble myself
about unybody's heart being broken."
"Or even the hopo of getting ns
good an oiler us Dr. Ward," answered
Mrs. Small.
"But seriously, Ada," sho continued,
speaking in a kind, motherly tune, to
her niece, "what is it that troubles
you? 1 have noticed the shadow that
has rested upon your usually calm
brow all day, and am at a loss how to
account for it."
"Well, really, aunt," sho replied, "1
can hardly tell; perhaps it is wrong of
me; but I cannot feel otherwise than
troubled about tho contents of that
letter which I received concerning the
habits of Dr. Ward."
"Well, Ada, although I think your
fears are groundless, but, feeling as
you do, I should advise you to mention
tho matter to Dr. Ward," said Mrs.
Small.
"That I have already done, dear
aunt," replied Ada; "that is, I did not
tell him about the letter, nor speak
directly about his own conduct; but I
spoke to him of the evils arising from
intemperance, and he said that, in
many respects, ho concurred in my
opinions; but he thought a man might
di ink intoxicating liquors, and drink
frequently without being in any dan
ger of becoming a drunkard, if he
iw ,u.-v-m-.-.-m ii n uaj ii .mull ui juu'
meat. And then, when I warned him
lo beware, he laughed at my fears,
and told me that 1 shout 1 have more
conlidcncc in him than tu think he
would ever so far forget himself as to
become a common drunkard."
"And did not this ussurance satisfy
you, Ada.'" asked her aunt.
"On the contrary, it has only exci
ted my fears, in a greater degree, for
he made light of my anxiety, and
spoke ralher in favor of intoxicating
liquars, while 1 have such a horror ol'
I all such;" and a prcceplahle shudder 1
1 passetl through the Noting girl's frame j
i as she spolie.
"lYeling as you do. Ada, I think it
! would be better for you lo speak plain
j ly and directly to Dr. VT.trd upon the
I subject w hich troubles you so very
much, although I think your lears and
j anxiety are without any just cause,"
'said Mrs. Small.
j "I think 1 shall do as you advise,
i aunt," replied Ada.
I If, 'Pi tlii'i r i'i ill vrMW.'il inn v:w mt,r-
rupted by a servant, who informed
Ada that Dr. Ward was aNVait
ing her in the parlor. After pausing
a tew inoinents belorea mirror, to ar-
i range her somewhat, dishevelled curls,
: she hastened to meet Dr. Ward, her
' betrothed husband.
j(ia i' urn ioiii nun, mat evening ol
the anonymous letter she had received
from S , debouncing him ns a
Nvine bibber, also, her fears and anxi-
: ,.tv on his account: and now. when
.1,., ,,. I.-, i .,i,-..i I,,,,'
1 1 1 nil i ' , K. i. ,1.1 nil 1,1.1,111 v ureilo
I J 1
him. lit; made evcrv rll'inf. mid used
, ,V(!rv iir,raflll In his poW(.P , quit
j tho of (h(, ,.,;,, ,, folKy
j (m,() Aml lt! ,sll,;c,.cdcd; for his
! ..loqnc.t pleadings, added to those of
, ,.r ,,,, m 8Ui(:ient to allay
h.-Hcars, and cause her to feci that
,,,,, lim wroIlgC(, lim ,)y CVI jmkl,,,.
-,,r ,. ,i , , , , t !
; mg the thought that he, in whom she
i , , ... , . .
- saw so iniiny nobli' qualities, could hi-1
i ...... .1
guilty ol indulging in that vice, the
very llioughtof which tilled her with
hoiror and disgust.
When Gilbert Ward went out from
the presence of Ada Ford, he left hei
I,, l,,,,,.liin ll..,. .1... 1....I 1 I'....
1 I V li HI'lll .IIO llllll ll'Vll llll
many days; ami he, too, was happy ;
, . ' , .":
It-it, in- il, tixi iL.wi,..,....n !..., Li ......
; .....,..; iii.n. .,.
short months, he was to come and
; claim the bcautiliil Ada, the idol ol
1 . . , , . . . .
bis hi'ail.aslus ljii.de.
I
! As ''"' way from the
i -.-;,mI-iic. of Mrs. Small, he resolved
! l,nill t tor "flk,! "'' llis
j '" '"J"1"1 betrothed, he would taste ,
i ,uota u( t!,(; ":"H bowl. But,
illus ! "''''l'"""'" lay in bis path; he
vv,1-s "ot slr,,l, to r(:ist' aml his B
! resolutions were broken.
The fcNV weeks that intervened be
fore the marriage of Dr. Ward ami
Ada, passetl rapidly by. If a fear of
evil, or a dread of the future, caused
the fair hrowr of our heroine to be
counsel and encouragement of her
kind aunt.
At length the important day arriv-
, cd. They were married very qu ell,
j in the little brown stone church in
j G , the town where Ada resided,
1 and all who wished to go were present
to witness the solemn ceremony per
formed. The church wa crowded to
overlowing; the fair bride looked
j very beautiful and very happy in her
plain traveling dress ana .lowing
munlle. And Dr. Ward, tho new
made husband, looked very proud and
very happy too.
Ada took leave of her friends at tie
door of the church and then went
forth from G with tho man of
her choice, to whom sho was devoted
ly attached, whither sho had come
seventeen years beforo, a lone orphan
a prattling and innocent child of
threo summers to reside with her
maternal aunt, Mrs. Small, who had
ever treated her, in every respect, as
sho did her own daughters.
Ada had been a favorite with the
kind-hearted villagers ever since tho
first appearance among them. They
loved her in her childhood for her in
nocenco and artlessness, and they
loved her no less in her womanhood
for her noble, generous qualities of
mind and heart. And many were the
sincero blessings ami prayers that
were breathed for her as she went
out from their midst, on tho bright
morning of her bridal.
liut now, leaving Dr. Ward and his
lovely bride to pursue their way to
the town of S , which is to be.
their future residence, wc will turn
our attention to Dr. Ward alone.
A few years previous to the open-
1 ing of our story, he had gone to S
from a neighboring state, nnd com
menced the practice of medicine. At
lirst his practice was limited; but
gradually he gained the confidence of
a large portion of the people in S
and the vicinity, ami soon began to be
very prosperous.
It was during a short sojourn in the
city of II that he first met Ada
Ford. He was faseinated with her
exquisite beauty; and, when he found
an opportunity to converse with her,
he found the charms of her mind no
less than those of her person; ami
thus he ditl bow at the shrine of the
beautiful Ada, ami at length ho be
came her huslmnd. 11c was truly a
man of many noble qualities, but ad
dicted to the vice of drinking intoxi-
eating liquors that vicn which the
fair Ada so abhorred. Notwilhstand-
this, he had many friends in
anil many who deplored this
sad fault.
When lie carried his fair bride to
i (J.
; sin; was kindly and warmlv
j received; for, with her beautiful face,
and gentle, winning way, she could
not fail to please wherever she went.
Tho winter of 18a7 was one of un
usual gayety in C) , ami there
was scarcely an entertainment given
"
to which Dr. Ward and Ada were not
invited. And they generally atten-
del, for Dr. Ward was exceedingly
fnd of social entertainments, and
j Adu enjoyed society greatly; she liked
j nM t mingle with the friends of her
husband, it. unncareil to uive both him
' II ' o
, aim ms menus so inticu pleasure lor
her to do so. But Ada had a dread of
wine parties, because she feared for
her husband. She had noted with
watchful eve that his irlass never re-
!,.,;, i ,,,i,.,.;,,,'i
uiiiiin il liilul nun u
I
There was to be n grand entertain
ment given by Captain Warner, who
had lately returned from a long nnd
. n
successlul voyage, lxpectation ant
anticipation were on tiptoe, for Cap
! tain Warner's entertainments were
ilhvays given in magnificent style,
lh(. u m fM to cnj
, , ,, . , . , ,
themselves. But somehow Ada Ward
,. , , , , ,
u-lt fl drcatl of g()ing, and a presenti-
1
,cnt of evil to come; but it would
never do to decline the invitation, for
he was one of Dr. Ward's most inti
mate friends, nnd so, with a heavy
heart, she prepared herself to go.
i I l,.i- t..S..itj Iw.tt,,, tn it pi.t'ii-.wl M !,,,
. 1' nMl li., ,i, ...... i , I ' . .......
she stood before her husband arrayed?
, , , , I
.... ll... I.,. I .t,l L..,i. , ,i .n.,.11,1 Ii'rl.l
' ...... j o
that gleamed from his eyes its he sur-j
vcyeil ! er queenly form, and listened
to the fond praise that he bustowful
upon her.
And well might he be proud of his
lovelv wife; for, although in that vast
assembly there nvi re many fices fair
to look upon, and many lorms of ex
quisite grace and elegance, yet Ada
Ward the gentle, and ibn beautiful,
stood pre-eminently the queen of them
all.
For a while all went merry as a
' iiinrriarje bell. The soft light emitted
from the highly polished chandaliers,
lent a kind ofa bewildering charm to
those rooms, through which the deli
cate aroma of choice flowers limited,
as though wafted from the orange
groves of sunny Italy; while here and
there fairy lorms flitted, and SNVcct
strains of music mingled with happy-
voices, and gay laughter burst forth,
lending a kind of witchory to the
scene,
During the first part of the evening
our heroine was very happy. She had
seemingly forgotten all her former
fears and anxiety; and often, as she
glided through the mazy dance, or
joined in the gay sallies of wit that
flowed from rosy lips and guilcles.4
hearts, could her low, musical laugh
ter bo heard, like the gentle ripph'nff
Uf glad wntcrn. Put hy and hye,
as
tho evening began to wear away, a
shadoNV gathered upon her hitherto
calm brow, lor she marked a change
in the boaring of her husband; per
haps one less accustomed to his man
ner would not have noticed it; but sho
noted that tho tones of his voice were
louder, and more hurried and abrupt
than his wont, and that his manner
was moro familiar; not that ho was
rude, but he had lost that dignity
which always characterized him,.
Ada knew but too well how to ac
count for this change, for she nvus well
aware that wine had passed freely and
frequently among tho guests, and that
to this might be attributed the change
in her husband's inaniier. It was,
therefore, with deep anxiety that she
saw the red liquid again being passed
among the guests, for she felt con
vinced that one draught more ndded
to what he had already drank, would
place her husband on a level with
what he termed a drunkard. She
watched him narrowly, and resolved
that she would make an ellbrt to save
him from what hi) considered a terri
ble late. It was a moment of intense
sullering to poor Ada, as her blodless
cheeks ind trembling limbs testified.
When she saw him stretch forth his
hand to take the proll'ered glass, she
seemed suddenly to regain her
strength, and iIcnv like lightning speed
toward him. Sim reached his title
just as he was raising the clear crys-tal-liko
goblets to his lips, to drain it
of its contents; and, placing her hand
gently but firmly upon his uplifted
arm, she exclaimed, in clear, thrilling
tones
"Gilbert, my husband, forbear!
drain not the poisonous draught!"
Slowly the upraised baud descended,
and he looked seiirchingly in her face,
as if to read her meaniii'. For u i
moment gazed upon her, and then a
durli Irown gathered upon his broNV,
and again he raised the goblet to his
lips; and then poor Ada, forgetful of
everything butheroNVu intense anxie
ty and sullering, in nn agonised voice,
exclaimed
"Oh, Gilbert, for my sake drink not
the, maddening potion! Oh, beware!
beware!"
Again did Gilbert Ward's hand de
scend, nnd lie', allow ed Ada to take
the goblet from him. Stepping buck
11 U!W ' u " u
, . i 111 . . 1 i 1 t .
u'r 1,1111 sl"" il "um laoie,
slll! g''I with burning eye upon Us
M"l" niised the goblet con-
mining tue spariuing wine, auu giizcu
wildly upon it, while her cheeks
blanched to a deathly palor, and her
bosom heaved with intense emotion,
she exclaimed, in clear ringing tones;
"Behold whatl see within this tlow
ing liquid! I see for you Gilbert, sor
row, shame, dishonor, misery, despair
yea, death! I seo that face, ;ionv
bearing the impress of health nil
peace, burning and scorched with
the great heat of this poison, and sear-
,,rl .-mil ililiirm'(l bv the traces ot dc-
; . . , , , ,. , ,
bauchery and contracted disease! 1
tst'o your firm step becoming weak
and tottering! I hear your rich voice
growing IioIIonv and unnatural your
(lashing eye becoming dim and lus
treless your intellect becoming im
paired, and your mind enfeebled and
weak! 1 see your home growing deso
late and neglected; your friends all
forsaking you, and you traveling
down to a pauper's grave, tincared tor
and unwept! I see for myself suller
ing, want, misery and dispair! 1 see
my brightest hopes crushed, my fond
.? i i; j,,, ,t ,i . ,,, .UPi
est wisl.es liliglitetl, and my poor ln:art
..... ..,.,.r,.ttu . ant a this is l a
work of my husband!
"On the other hand," said she, rai
sing tin' vessel containing Ihe clear,
cold water, '1 sec peace, prosperity,
honor renow n, joy, hope, friends and
long life, and all for you if you so Nvill
it! And will you, oh, Gilbert, thus
heedlessly rush oa to ruin, and relent
lessly torture your loving, sullering
wife, until sho sinks into a prema
ture grave.'
"Choose!" she exclaimed, wildly, ex
tending her hand toward him, chouse
this moment, oh, my husband, between
wiitc and irter choose between hap
piness and misery both hero and
hereafter! Oh, chooso betNvecu life
and death; extinguish the last spark
of joy and life within my bosom, or
bid me live and be happy!"
With bloodless lips and heaving bo
soni, Gilbert Ward, fully sobered by
tho events of tho last few moments,
stretched forth his trembling hand'
and, taking the goblet containing the
clear, cooling water, raised it to his
lips, and drained the grateful draught.
Then, as his hands descended, he ex
Mnimed. in solemn tones
"God help me to keep this resolve!"
"Amen." was responded from every
lip in that vast assembly, in tones of
reverence, though many cheeks were
wet wiih tears, and many voices hus
ky with emo'ion.
Number VY.
"Saved, saved, thank Wod, saved!"
murmured Ada, as she staggered for
ward, and fell fainting into the arms
of her husband.
Ah, ho was saved; and not him
alone, but many others who stood
within sound of Ada Werd's voico on
that memorable night.
They boro the fair young bride to
iler home, and laid her upon a downy
couch; from which she rose not for
long, weary days and nights, but lay
insensiblotto all things around her; yet
still pleading wildly, passionately
with her husband, to forsake the
drunkard's cup.
As Gilbert Ward watched besido
his suffering and adored wife, again
did he renew his vow of total absti
nence. Ay, and angels may have re
corded those vonvs in the courts of tho
most High King.
When Ada recovered her reason
and health, her husband went forth
into tho busy tumult of the world and
became one of the most zealous work
ers iu the great cause of Temperance.
Wives, have you intemperate hus
bands! Then seek, by every means
in your power, to rescue them from a
drunkard's grave. Mothers, have you
intemperate sons? Cease not to warn
and entreat. Sisters have you intem
perate brothers? Seek to save them
from thcsorroNV and woo that attends
tho wine bibber!
She Married Well.
Ah, but did she? To be sure tho
wedding was a grand nffair. Silks
rustled, ribbons fluttered, exquisite
lace veiled fairy-like forms. Dia
monds glittered, bright eyes sparkled,
soft curls (loatetl over lily shoulders',
and dimpled cheeks glowed with
health and happiness. Rich music
pealed through the vast saloons, and
light fe t kept time to its enchanting
measure; there was gay laughter,
sweet smiles, low spoken vows, soft
womanly blushes, and manly tones.
Oh yes; it was a brilliant wedding;
and from lip to lip was echoed "she
married well!"
"Did she'" The bridegronn was a
handsome man, dark lustrous eyes,
and a profusion of raven locks; his
air was dignified and commanding,
his manners polished and refined.
Mammas ever so intriguing, papas
ever so scheming, daughters enveigh
ing and plotting, young men and old,
all declared earnestly " sho married
well."
A gorgeous mansion was tho house,
ot the young bride; attentive servants
obeyed every wish, all that wealth or
station could bestow was hers. She
rode iti her elegant carriage, she
dressed in the costliest fabrics. Her
jewels were of tho richest lustre, and
gold to her was but as so much dross.
Oh tr.i, she married well.
Pale, still and cold as the moon
beams that steal through her curtain
folds, it meets the young and beauti
ful bride of a year; the diamonds are
taken from her brow, and her long,
disheveled hair falls in dark tresses
over her white shoulders; her jewell
ed hands are clasped, her white face
upraised, the dark eyes full of tears,
bitter, heart-burning tears such as a
many a woman never sheds. It is
strange that such a proud, haughty,
worldly woman should pray, and yet
sh edoes, ami the midnight moon looks
down as if in silent pity. What is
wealth and station to her Nvho knows
no sympathy, no love, and has lost her
faith in man? What to her the admi
ration of the multitude, when he who
promised to love aud cherish her lav
ishes his smiles upon a wanton, spends
the hours he should be at her side at
the gambling table, and tho drinking
saloon; be eoim s to her with no word
of endearment, no sinilo of ntl'ection,
a curst! upon his lip, and fro nvus upon
bis brow. And yet tho world whis
pers " she married well! Her husband
is handsome and accomplished, aud.
more than all, a millionaire; who
should dare say otherwise? What is ,
drinking, gambling, infidelity and lib
ertiueism iu the one scale, while wealth
overbalances it in the other? What is
it, we ask, and a large portion of tho
Christian world would say "no,.
rug."
Yes, she married mil! She wed a
marble mansion, broad lands, and a
surfeit of that yellow dust called gold, ,
beforo the world, and she married in
the sight of Heaven and her own
heart, a monster, a base libertine, a
drunkard and gambler. Did she? an
swer oh ye lovers of wealth and sta
tion, did she marry well?
And all this for a lifetime; that
wedded wealth may pass into other
hands, what will bo left her then? No
true-hearted husband to shield her
with his strong arm, to labor fur her
support, or to die for her honor: noth
ing but that incubus, that leaden
weight npon her heart, that raropvw
which death alone can tep.0?.
from. Heaven pity! Cod b nmeituU
if.hisistomarryr Ki4(tj.