Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, IA [i.e. Ind.]) 1839-1854, 1849-12-26
CHAPTER III.
PAINFUL REALITIES.

CHAPTER III.
PAINFUL REALITIES.
Fine clothes will wear out-or at any
rate get out of fashion-which is quite as
bad. Nothing tells so eloquently Of re-
duced means as shabby finery. Mrs.
Smith was quite willing to go into compa.
ny simply dressed, but her husband was
not willing to allow her to do so; and as
there was no money and no opening for
business and no way Of gratifying per-
sonal vanity. but by running in debt. il
was decided by the husband that the best
plan was to refuse all invitations. This
decision suited the feelings Of the wife
she was getting tired of the effort it re-
CURED to keep up appearances. Spring,
with its soft air and SUNNY skies. brought
back, in beautiful colors. her early home,
and she longed for freedom. Among all
her acquaintances, she knew not that she
had one real friend-one who loved her
for her own sake. She felt that she was
not living true life, and she longed for
d change. She thought she would like to
take her children into the country for the
summer-and into the country she went.
Mr.. Smith remained in town to watch for
an opening. ltaPpeared at last. Anew
magazine was started by an association Of
gentlemen and ne was offered an induce
ment to write for it. He was quite elated
and wrote encouragingly to his wife OF his
prospects.
The summer passed quickly away, and
the middle of autumn found the young
couple once more established in their
house in town.
| wonder why our friends are so back
ward in calling. said Mary to her hus-
band. We have been here now nearly
four weeks, and no one called except
Miss Carpenter. | suppose it is general
ly known that have returned: l wonder
why it is!
You will learn after a time, said Mr..
Smith to wonder at nothing.
Perhaps so, replied Mary. 1t is of
very little consequence. however. whether
people call sooner or later. BY the way
how does the magazine flourish! you
hav'nt spoke Of it for some time.
Pshaw; replied Mr.. Smith, petulantly;
don't speak Of it unless you wish to drive
me mad. Nothing pays here but pork
and sausages. This is not the place for
a man to live by his wits.
Then it does not prove a profitable af-
faire continued Mary. interrogatively.
Look at this, and this, said Mr.. Smith,
pulling out several bills from his pocket
book-these will quiet all your wonder.
and save all your questions. Here is
one quarters rent due Mr.. Prim-here is
one grocer's bill-here is-but no mat
ter. You don't expect people will go out
of their way to show their good will to
their debtors, do you!
Let US pay the bills at once, then. The.
odore, and avoid running in debt for the
future, said Mary.
That's all very wel!--but where's the
money to come from! and how are we to
live! To be sure it isn't very importan,
that we should live at all-but, think
ton.
We can manage to live on very little
replied Mary, or much less than we now
do.
It's as easy to pay large debts as small
ones. replied her husband, when you
have nothing to pay with.
Listen to me, Theodore, replied Mary
l don't know whether you are in eatnes1
or not. If you are, it is :ime that we
should devise some better plan for life
If you are satisfied that it is quite useless
to keep up appearances any longer. let Us
try to live nationally. 1t will not trouble
you in the least to know that we are pool
but cannot bear a state of uncertainty
And it would not trouble you in the leas
to lose all your friends and acquaintan.
ces, said her husband.
A true friend would never desert US on
IF rfx
acquaintances, care little about them
replied Mary. Now tell me, beg you
the true state Of affairs, and try to think ,
woman's wit is worth something.
You are a dear, good creature, Mary
replied her husband, and love you with
my whole heart, God knows. / would
have spared you every anxiety and pain
would have made any sacrifice to pro
mote your happiness. But you have
made an unfortunate choice. Mary. in
linking your fortunes with such a scape
grace as am. My uncle-curses-
Stop, stop, Theodore, interrupted hi.
wife-remember how much you owe to
his kindness.
A doubtful kindness, replied Theodore
sadly. To bring young man up with.
pectation Of fortune. and then cut him
off without = shilling. becuse he dared te
have will of his own and marry the on
ly woman he ever loved. He may have
intended well-but his past kindness a.
you term it, has proved a curse instead o
blessing. believe it should think o
these things it would make a very devil o
me. an harrassed to death. People
begin to think their assurance Of regard
will be taken in earnest---that they shall
be called upon TO pay q dear price fo
their friendship. have not borrowed
money yet---not . sous.
And you must not, Theodore Be guild
ed by me, my dear husband. Give o,
this house, il is too large for ts-sell ii
the furniture that is not absolutely neces