The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1858-10-28
Written for the Pioneer and Democrat
sTHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN."
By EMILY HEWITT BUaBEE.

believe no other subject has been going
the rounds of Literature longer or with more
furore than the above. II has been rang in
all its changes, to the tune Of weeping and
wailing, and heart tbreakings and brain.
rackings, until its originality is mere
shadow. Every embryo writer myself ex.
cepted) must try his skill in depicting the
Aarpest pangs and w'idea lamentations that
have yet have been written about the might
have been And then he dispatches it to
the Weeping Million Gazette" or the
Heart Broken Heraid," sees its lofty suffer.
ing in print, and Immediately sets himself
down as poet.
"Oh! the might have been reads the
extract from WIGGrss' novel, as some mag
ni6cent beauty reaches her room--tears of
her diamonds, and, perhaps, filings them on
the 6oor-crushes her glossy curls, and
wrings her jeweled fingers, while tears of
remorse, passion, grief, love, despair, and
few more emotions gush over her burning
cheeks Oh, the might have been for she
has seen her ADoLPHUs lead some fair,
golden-haired, blueeyed angel to the altar
she has seen him place the marriage ring on
the finger which should have been hers
which might have been. Oh, heavens
and she starts to her feet, and PAGES to and
fro with dishevelled hair and wildly CLEAN.
ing eyes.
1t might have BEEN" mutters the
hoarse, sepulchral voice OF a towering, broad.
shouldered man, with fiery eyes and long
black hair-slightly streaked with grey,
however--as he sits before smouldering
FIRE In some dark, wainscotted, oak panneled
room, in an old manor house. 1t might
have beenl" he repeats, and, starting up,
he PAGES the room with giant strides, while
6re shoots from his eyes-his brow il knit,
and bis lips firmly compressed. at might
have been ! he reiterates, and sinking
down again before the dying fire, be buries
his face in his hands
I at might have been" murmurs some
woman wasted to skeleton-but alive nev.
ertheless--as she lifts her large dark eyes
from her work, leans back in her rickety
chair and glances about the mean room
generally fifth story attic--lighted by a
miserable tallow candle. which not only
serves the darkness more visible, but which
also serves to recall the pallet of straw in
the corner, the small pine table, always p,nt)
one or two stools, q shelf with few broken
dishes, and, II the case is not q very hard
one, half loaf OF stale bread
1T might have been I" il sobbed forth
from the convulsed form Of some Adonis,
as be CONES across the marble face OF Ara.
bella, with its wreath OF roees--dead, dead
dead and he throws himself upon the dirt
and writhes In the most unspeakable agony.
And it might have been, rings out from
one poem in ten; accompanied by " broken
hearts" !" wild despair" perished hope"
and by gone joys all blended in one
grand wall Of grief
1t requires no great amount Of observa.
ton to perceive that the world is getting
tired OF the udsweet woes with which wri.
ters appeal TO its sympathy. 1t has recov.
cred from its bathurst OF applauding pity
and the sly wink and litter with which i,
regards fimsy sentimentality, will soon ex.
plode into loud laugh.
Bot the world is not g'ni< satiated, and
there IL yet chance for first class " wal
kr' TO be beard. He will. however, be IN
der the necessity Of exerting himself a. Dev.
er waller did, and Of advancing biz ideas
with all the Gre, originality and pa,hoe he
can command ; TO assist him in this purpose
would here insert some sensible advice,
which cannot tail TO be Of use to him in hi.
literary pursuits bat which 70 insure com
piete success, must be followed to the litter
HOW TO MAKE rogTEy.
select dark. rsiny day. in the month Of
October or November. tthoagh any other
month will dol and remain in bed until the
breakfast bell has rung. Ga rising be careful
you toaeh no bath or crash towel, a. these
are said to be productive Of ehserfuloess and
animation tbe face and hands can be vet