The Cadiz Democratic sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 1854-1864, 1854-04-05

her fret over new dress that did not fit, CT
something OF that sort; but he never dreams
ed that a tempest could ever blow out out ot
such little cloud. Il was only when she
felt the cold touch Of life's resities,' that she
showed out exactly what she was.
1t was too late now; the mischief had
been done. She was his wife; she was the
mother of little Bobby. He loved her still,
tho, his affections had been terribly shocked
by her thoughtless grumbling.
Mary had promised to do better; but alas
for the vanity of human promises, they were
words written in sand. The habit had be-
come deeprooted. Thomas was in despair,
He had tried Oy threats and persuasions to
make her reasonable, but all in vain. His
house was hell to him. II fshe had scold.
ed at him, been negligent of her kouse hold
duties, a gadder in the street, gossip-any
thing but grumbIer, he felt that he could
have endured it, loved her, and continued
to be happy.
But it was an ever present leaf of woe her
countenanee presented to him, and when
home had ceased to be pleasant place, he
gradually absented himself, and the still low
ing but incorrigible wife smelt the rum in
his breath, when be returned from his even.
ing amusements.
One night, about two months after the
we have narrated, as the clock
was stricking, the midnight hour, he was
brought home, helplessly drunk, in the arms
of two watchmen, who had picked him up IN
the street.
What sight for young and loving wife
to behold the father of her child drunk
They placed him in bed, and she spent
sleepless nightin weeping over his sense
less, embruted form. o, the agony of that
bitter time! Her husband drunkard! she
drunkard's wife! Earth has its miseries,
but none like those of the inebriate's wife.
Want shame, the poor house, the court
and the prison rose before her, with vivid
ness. A train Of woes--real woes-so long
she could not see the end oi it, marched i'll
solemn procession before her. There was
her child in rags, her husband, homeless
d!e, degraded sot There was the gaunl
form Of hunger, the glaring eyes of the de-
mons Of crime--there was everything there
from which the heart Of woman would in
stinctively shrink.
Thomas rose'the next morning, and eat
his breakfast in nSience-the silence which
shame seemed to impose upon him. He was
about to leave the house for his workshop,
when Mary spoke.
Thomas, said she, in the subdued tones
ofanguish, while flood Of tears rained
down her wan cheek
He looked at hsr, as though he had al
rcady OWNED what she meant to say.
"rhomas, you can't think how unhappy
| was last night when you were-when you
came home"
"Wel, what's the matter now?" answer
a1 Thomas suIleDly.
ooh. Thomas, last nightp'
"Weli what of lt?"
Mary was amazed that no appearance Of
contrition mitgated his tlagraut error.
"You don't come home in the evening
row.''
mo"
"But you will come to nighi, Thomas?"
"Perhaps l will"
"Nay, you will?"
"What for?"
"Come for my sake, Thomas
"Your sake Well, that is good one, u
replied he coarsely.
Mary was shocked.
"Last night. you were were she could
say no more.
1GV,c I y,ac
"You were---."
"Drunk! Out with it."
"Oh, Thomas"
"Well."
"What misery in store for us!!''
Cant help it."
"Nay, Thomas, promise that you will not
get
"Get drunk" laughed Thomas.
"Do not again"
"Can't PROMISE"
"Oh God! has it come to this?"
"Factv'
Mary threw herself into chair and wep
as though her heart would break. Iht
sight seemed to move the husband, who was
not yet-lost III transyrcssion. A tear s:clt
into his eye, and he bent over her, and tool
her hand
"Aary, / have sinned."
"You willnot again?" said she eagerly.
"But, Mary, is there no fault on yoal
part?"
my part?"
"My home is hateful to rne. Even tn,
presence of that sleeping, innocent child re
moves not the curse which seems to hang
over it,"
"Why, Thomas, what do YOU mean?"
"You know what / mean Have | no
often reasoned with you?"
"Ck, God" exclaimed Mary, buryin!
her face between her hands, at the consci
business that the misery which menaced her
was of her own seeking.
al never will complain of anything agai
I as long as | live! she continued.
"Ah: Mary have often heard you sa
so before"
"Trust me this time, Thomas"
al will. Mary"
"Come home tonight; you shall find M
all that you could wish"
"Bless you, Mary, trust for your sake a
we'll as my own, and for the sake OF our ow
dear boy, that yOG G'inay be true to your res
olution."
II will, Tbomas," replied she, with
gathering smile, as. her husband kisse
her.
"And | promise never again to" taste tn
fatal cup. You shall be the guardian OF this
my solemn pledge; for in no way can ye
more effectually secure the keeping of m
promise, than by observing your OWN
i short hv maxim, hama hannV