Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1858-08-05
fauilp GirtIt,
The Two Wives.

The tea things were removed, the chill
lren had gone to bed, aud Charles Lighte
throwing down his newspaper, seated him
self on the sofa beside his wife.
A hand slid into his own, thinner and
less delicate than when, long ago, it had
met his but the same confding low
ing hand.
And out of the ~fullness of her heart the
good wife spoke 81 have been thinking
Charles, as | watched this bright freight
Pickering over our comfortable room, hew
happily We live how much we ought to
do for others in return for the blessings
that are daily heaped upon our heads"
Eyes Carrie, bat these blessings are
earned by daily work you women sit
at home by your comfortable fires, and
little think how your husbands and your
fathers are toiling in meantime to procure
the shelter, and fuel and food for which
you are SO grateful to Providence"
An arch smile lighted up the still pref
ty face, as the wife answered.:
All, and your husbands and fathers,
enter the orderly house, and eat the we'll
cooked, punctual meals, and play with
the neat, well dressed and well disciplin-
ed children, and enjoy the evening com
fort and repose, without realizing how
your wife, with head, and hand, and heart,
must have toiled to bring about all those
quiet results. | might easily give you
practical proofs Of what | have asserted;
but l delight in having you think of home
as q place for enjoyment and repose q
warm sunny harbor, after the storms and
chills of the world outside therefore, I
take my OWE rest at the time you take
yours. Is not this better than to be al
ways keeping before you, by help of a
little management, the conviction that l
am q weary victim? Our interests are
mutual, and l feel that the knowledge
that I am resting, adds to your repose."
Mr.. Lighte's face glowed with pleas
ure, at his wife's candid, simple, confd-
ing words, she sympathized with him and
understood him-she only in the great
wide world How he loved her How
good, and true, and gentle, she had al
Ways beeni
Thus he thought, as they both sat
dreaming by the freside.
Mrs. Lighte awoke frst from her rev.
erie she was not accustomed to waste
time in dreams:
Charles, while / think of it, for l for
got it this morning, the white sugar is
all out, they had been married q great
while, and the transition from sentiment
to household wants was natural to her,
we must have another barrel
This brought Charles Lighte back to
the purpose for which he had thrown
aside his newspaper:
Don't you think, Carrie, that now we
have SO many children, and they all young
we might use brown sugar instead of
white %
What shall l do for company ? and
besides, children have as many sensitive
palates as we. I rocollect well how in
my childhood, I disliked coarse, cheap
food"
And now your family are all cpl,
cares"
What gluttons?" 5l
ooh, no but if meat is an hour too
old, or bread a trihe done, or eggs in the
least altered, or pudding is heavy, moth
ing will do but you must procure a sub,
~stitute the things are not really bad /;
many would eat on for the sake Of econ
omy."
Is there no good result from my cpl
curism2"
Eyes | am willing to own that no
man in the city has more nutritious and
palatable food in the city than [ but,
Carrie, the times are hard, and we must
begin to economise."
Nov | understand you have been
talking with Mr.. Murke I thought you
meant to dissolve your co-partnership in
the spring that man will spoil yoa with
his meanness."
81 cannot afford to dissolve yet my
family expenses are too heavy. And be-
sides, | am not sure but what you call
meanness in Murke, is after all, common
dable foresight. Do you not remember
what a s%pendthrift he was in his first
wife's day Z"
mo, Charles l remember that when
we were lovers, we used to admire his
generous, disinterrested conduct. l do
not know a man in Boston whose position
was more truly enviable than his at the
time which we speak"
What besieged by high and low for
help !; never sure Of a ONE at his W
command Do you call it enviable to be
at e~veryone's beck and call? Wa a poor
family burnt out, or somebody's fifth
cousin to be buried, or a minister to be
~admonished or supported, or a returning
prodigal to make peace with his family,
or a lunatic taken to the hospital, or a
city improvement made, no one could ac-
~complish the object SO well as Murke."
"And his pleasure lay in his duty how
his honest face would glow with delight,
as in his boyish way, he walked up and
down our parlor, relating the success Of
some benevolent scheme. What a pity
he could not have died then the rough
exterior would have fallen away from a.
strong yet gentle soul, as beautiful and
radiant as any angel that ever entered
heaven.
But Carrie, you little enthusiast, what
would have happened to his wife and
children I? Had William Murke died ten
years ago, they might have been in the
poor house, for he had not saved a penny
then now they will all inherit handsome
fortunes"
"Oh, Charles, you cannot be in earnest,
the world has not SO blinded you but you.
must feel that the wealth in his purse is a
poor compensation for the wealth that is
fast dying out of his soul. Think what
a cherries home-think how his children