Amador weekly ledger., 1858-05-01
A Reason for Bachelorism.

on have told me, Mr. Hunter, at least
dozen times, you would reveal to me the
secret of your bachelorism; now we have no
vlsiters, and no prospect of any; the quiet
patter of the rain has tempted you to cigar
and slippers; and that dim burning of the
coal in the CRATE, the drousy fire of June,
just enough to dispel the damp, and not
enough to rouse one uneasy nerve, is of it.
self pledge for long, tranquil evening
And yet-by no means, my dear sir, don't
toss aside your cigar, and as to signing, it is
out of the question-you are too stout for
sentiment, have a well-to-do air, sort of tell
tale good-dinner aspect that don't accord
we'll with the sentimental"
Mr.. Hunter drew from his bosom a small
miniature, the portraits of two sisters, the
one girl of seventeen, the other q child of
seven or eight--a bud and blossom of female
oveness. Even / forgot the well-to-do air,
and found myself uneonSciorsy sympathzng
as his smooth, unmarked face settled into an
expression of melancholy. To be sure it
was unnatural, and just as it was about to re-
assume its habitual look of easy content, and
the cigar was q.ietly restored to the lips, he
caught glimpse Of my eyes, and they might
have looked mischievous, for he flung the r-
gar aside, and declared he wonld never, no
never, satisfy my curiosity. Women were
all alike heartleSs, untruthful, and full of
whm. A man never knew where to find
them lone thing to-day, another thing to-
morrow. A look that is all preface--thc
reader never gets beyond the first page. No
wonder married men are lean and cadaverous.
That same lean Cassus must have been a
married man. Othello's occupation was done
when he became married man. Witness
the spleen OF lago-it is that of a married
man. Macbeth was married murderer
it makes me Desperate"
Yes, desperate to be married. | won't
enter into difference, because, my dear sir,
do so much want that same story. ! forgive
this little ebullition of bachelor spleen, be-
eving it may be of some service to you
But, Mr.. Hunter, here is the secret Of all the
bachelorism in the world-lnconstaney-re-
member the old ballad that saith,
Sigh no more, ladye, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever
One foot on and one on shore,
To one thing constant never"
"Now to tell me the story of these pretty
girls, and promise not to annoy you"
Mr.. Hunter was too good natured to re-
fuse bachelors are good natured
This is a painting from a sketch | made
of the two girls, shortly before we embarked
upon that fatal voyage They were stan
ding as you now see; Ellen with the same
tranquil, gentle demeanor, and the rogush
Ann in this very attitude indeed, but a thou
sand changeful meanings fitting over her
face.
| was but twcnty-two-full of life, health
and the enthusiasm of early manhood. Ell
len was the realization of my dreams, the
one pure and blessed being forever floating
about the faneies of the Imagination, the i'm
personation of my ideal Of womanhood at
that time; meek, trusting, dependent, and
loving with a sing and purity of soul
that sanctifed every emotion. need not
say that the most restless dream of ambition,
the most aluring indictments to pleasure,
we're as nothing to me when weighed by the
wealth of her guileless tones Of affection, the
earnsst and touching accents of tenderness
that fell from her sweet lips.
al was about to return to one of ouT
southern cities, there to prosecute my pro
fession, aud Mrs Lacy, a widow OF some
fortune, and long an invalid determined te
arrange her affairs and remove thither also
in company with her two daughters, my swee
Ellen and Anne