Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1858-05-08
Old Husbands and Young Wives.

| child yet; ana these DauOleS pleaSeu
her ambitious 5i0ther's, eye. It was
|not The old man, but his money-his
money! might have known it. May
and Decembcr-pshaw! how could / ever
believed that Mary Terry could love an
old fellow like me /" and Mark Ware
surveyed himself in the large parlor
mirror.
"See lit reflects portly old man
of sixty, with ruddy face, snow white
hair, and eyes from which the light Of
youth has long since departed" And
yet there IS fire in that old mans veins
too; see how he strides across the car
pet, circulating, with fresh emphasis,
Eyes, 1 was an an old fool.-on old
fool! But l will be kind to her am
not the man to tyrannize over a young
girl because her mother took her out of
tie nursery to make her my wife. |
see now it is not in reason for a young
girl like her to stay contentedly at home
uaxith my frosty head and equity feet
Poor little Mary! No-Pll not pun
ish her because she cant OF love me; she
shall have what she wants, AMI so
where she likes her mother is only too
proud to trot her out as the wife Of the
rich Mark Ware. If that Will make
both happy let them do it; 8 maybe "
-and here Mark Ware paused-''may-
be after she has seen what the Dead
Sea apple-the worlds made of, she
will come back and love the old man Il
little-maybe-who knows? No wo-
man who is belieTed in, and we'll treated,
ever makes bad wife there never
was bad wife yet, but there was bad
husband first ; that's gospel-Mark's
gospel anyhow, and Mark Wares going
to act pom it. Mary should go to the
ball tonight with her mother, and |
will stay at home and nurse my patience
and equity leg. There's no evil in her:
she's as pure as lilly, and if she wants
to see the world. why-she shall see it;
and though l can't go dancing around
with her, will never dim he bright eyes
-no-no !"
"That will do, Tify another pin
in this lace now move that rose in my
hair little to the left; so--that will
do"
"That will do" Tame praise f,r
that small Grecian head, with its crown
of braided tresses ; for the full, round
throat, and snowy, sloping shoulders ;
for the round ivory arms and the taper
ing, rose tipt fingers ; for the lovely
bosom and dainty waist. Well might
such beauty dazzle Mark Wares eyes,
till he failed to discern the distance be-
tween May and December.
Mark Ware had rightly read Mary.
She was guileless and pure, as he has
said /; and child as she was, there was
that in her manner before which the
most audacious eye would have shrunk
abashed.
When tue young bride had realized
the import Of those words she had been
made to utter, "till death do us part"
she looked forward with shuddering hor-
ror at the long montonous, weary years
before her. Her home seemed a prison,
and Mark Ware the keeper. Its very
splendor oppressed her. And she
chafcd and frettcd in her silded letters,
while her restless heart cried out, ''any
where but home. ~ Must she sit-therc
in her prison house day after day, lis
tening only to the repininy of'hor own
troubled heart? Had God made her
beauty to fade inthe sitting atmosphere
Of darkened parlors, listening to the
Of querulous old age'z Every
pulse Of her heart rcbelled. How
could her mother have thus sol her?
How could Mark Ware have so unmag-
accepted the compulsory
sacrifice? Why not have shown her the
world, and let her choose for herself?
Oh, any where from such a home.
There was no lack Of invitations
abroad for Mary had flashed across
the fashionable horizon like some bright
comet, cclipsing all relgning beauties.
No ball, no party, no dinner, was
thought success without her. Night
after night found her en- route to some
gay assemblage. To her astonishment
and her foolish mothers delight, her
husband never reconstruction the
contrary, she often found upon her
table some choice little orna-
ment which he had provided fo1 the &C.
casion and Mary, as she fastened it
in her hair or bosom, would say bitter
": g lie is anxious that |, like the
5ther appendages Of his establishment,
should reflect credit on his faultless
taste.''
Mistaken Mary!
Time passed on:... Mark Ware was
':patient as he Promised himself to
be. His evenings were not SO lonely
now, for his little babe kept him COM
pany; the reprieved nurse, only too
glad to escape to her pink ribbons and
. ''chat With John at the back gate
1t was "a pretty sight-Mark and the
babe! Old age and infancy are always
. touching sight together. Not a
smile or cloud passed over that little
face that did not wake up the father in
Mark Wares heart and he paced the
room with it, or rocked it to sleep On
his breast, talking to it, as if it could
understand the strong, deep love of
which it was an unconscious object.
81 am weary Of all this,'' sal
Marks young wife, as she stepped into
her carriage at the close Of brilliant
bill. ssI'm weary of seeing the same ia
ces and hearing the same stupid nonsense
night after night. I wonder shall l
ever be happy? l wonder shall ever
love anything, or anybody? Mamma
- rxo,,1 nf mo hacauco I am heautifnl