Litchfield enquirer., 1858-12-09
Whole No. 1749.

w HOlc NO. l74S.
 der, the rabbi, it appeared, had provided a passport only for himself and intimating to the officer that the lady was none of his. and haa no passport, he was conveyed across the stream, while she was left behind. This was the last she had seen of her loving spouse uu- LII she met him ten days ago in Ottawa.
 But she was unwilling to give him m so. Arming herself with funds and the necessary papers, she started in pursuit. She fonnd traces of him in various places throuphout Europe but was never able to fix his locality until, after some three years, she learned that he had been at uSalem--had there hecn married to second wife-had in year left her--had thence been wandering over Europe assuming the character of "Jerusalemite begging funds for the destitute children of Is- rael Tn Jerusalem that is, in this way he had accumulated considerable money that bro- ther Of his second wife had pursued him, found him m Germany, and got Jewish "writing of divorcement" from him, returned with it to Jerusalem and found it defective, followed him a second time, and found him in London where he got another writing that was in due form. Then all traces of him disappeared until some two years ago, when she learned that he had deposited some money with banker in Hapo- yer, with orders to forwardi it whither he shou,d direct by letter. The banker finally got let. ter directing him to send the money to bank CT named Israel, in Kalamazoo. Michipau. Thlther she followed, and there was informed that the oney had been sent to Seltzar in care of Ashkenazi, at Ottawa III. So she came to Ottawa, and here, by accident met Dr. A. in the street. whom she at once recog- nzed as her truant lcrd. The Doctor made & feeble effort to deny his identity, but soon caved, and showed a disposition to come to terms
 Her demands were reasonable enough All s e asked was divorcement and some $l 800 il money to enable her to return to her parents. The first the Doctor was willing enough to ac- cede to, but being great miser, utterly scouts the latter proposition to evade which he tried earnestly to persuade her to live with him again. This she peremptorily declines, but commences proceeding in our Circuit Court for divorce and alimony, and for fear her "rab- bi" may take leave of her again, she has him locked up on writ of ne ereat.
 The Doctor is known to have some eight or ten thousand dollars in gold in his possession, and could easily discharge the ladys moderate demand, but is so mserly that he may finger Q long while in jail before he will do it. The la- dy is not unhandsome, apparently very intelli- gent, and evidently brim full of grit.
 
 r LETTER OF A DYING WIFE.-The following most touching fragment of letter from a dying wife to her husband Says the Nashville Gazette) was found by Eim, some months after her death, between the leaves of a religious volume which she was very fond of perusng. The letter. which was literally dim with her tear marks, was written long before her husband was that the grasp of fatal dis had fastened upon the lovely form of his wife, who died at the early age of nineteen:
 "When this shall reach your eve. dear George, some day when you are turning over the relics of the past, 1 shall have passed away forever, and the cold white stone will be keeping its lonely watch over the lips you have so often pressed, and the sod will be growing green that shall hide forever from your sight the dust of one who has often nes- tied close to your warm heart. For many long and sleepless nights, when all beside my thoughts were at resi- have wrestled with consciousness of approaching death, until at last 1t has forced itself upon my mind and although to you aud to others it might now seem but the nervous imagining of girl, yet, dear George, it is so! Many weary nights , have passed in the endeavor to reconcile my self to leaving you, whom lov'd so well ,and this bright world of sunshine and beauty and hard indeed it is to struggle on silently and alone, with the sure conviction that I am about to leave all forever and go down into the dark valley But 1 know in whom have be- lieved,' and leaning on his arm, I fear no evil Do not blame me from keeping even all hic frpn, I f all others, to such sorrow as feel at parting, when time will soon make it apparent to you l could have wished to live, if ouly to be ct your side when your time shall come, and pi- lowing your head on my breast, wipe the death-damps from your brow, and usher your departing spirit into it's Makers presence, efn- not to be, and submit. Yours is the privi- nights, for the spirits final flight, and of trans feling my sinking head from your breast to my Savior's bosom And you shall share my sst thought and the last faint pressure of the hand, and the la feeble kiss shall be yours, and even when flesh and heart shall have fail- ed me, my eyes shall rest ou yours until glazed by death and our spirits shall hold one last communion until gently fading from my view the last of earth-you shall mingle with the first bright glimpses of the unfading glories of the better world, where partings are unknown. We'll do know the spot, my dear George, where you will lay me often we stood by the place, and as we watched the mellow sunset, as it glanced in quivering flashes through the leaves, and burnished the grassy mounds around us with stripes of furnished gold, each, perhaps, has thought that some day one of us would come alone, and whichever it might be, your name would be on the stone But we loved the spot, and know you will love 1t none the less, when you see the same quiet sull- I light finger aud play among the grass that