The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1859-04-21

long ago learned to distrust the world. Alas!
they had at last learned to distrust the joys
of home-to distrust each other.
"Come now, Lura, be good child as you
were at first .r.... s.....
"a silly child, you meant" .
'No, good. Let me speak, for once, seri-
ously. do not like these flirtations. If
| have no personal feeling-if have none,
Lura, the comments of others annoy me,
mortify me constantly" .st ~.
81 choose to be independent of others
opinions" ...,..... ........ ..
"Of mine-your husbands ~ g Il.
''Oh! nonsense, Ambrose. l have had
trouble enough without concluding with a
jealous spouse. Let me but futtcr through
my days. shall wear out soon. of mere
WEAKNESS. Then you may find another
wife, like, for instance, your own inimitable
mother" ......
madam, will not ask you again, but
command you to treat my mothers memo
ry with some respect! Do mention her
virtues so very often?''
"Nay, Sir Othello! But every time you
look-as you're always looking-perplexea
annoyed, disappointed. think now he
compares me with the paragan ~
'That is the voice of concience, Mrs.
Willardr'
"Sweet Othcllo, why did you not think to
consult this good mamma in choosing a
wife"
al was fool, and blind ~
"Ah! what was I ~ q.
He left the house. They had never gone
so far before; but they had gone thus all the
way, little by little, losing ground, losing con-
fidencc, loosing hope. ....
An hour later-in the interval Mrs. VIII
lard had flown to her bourdoir, to seek resto-
ration in cosmetics and a rearranged toilet
an hour later, Lura Willard sat in the glow
of the wine.c plore shades of her chandelier,
listened to persuasive words from lips long
practicel in flatteries, hut which her foolish
heart believed to he now first inspired and
eloquent. He SPOKE ofioys all tranquil and
foreordained, of celestial affinties, harmonies,
possibilities; not v)rl his friend betrayed
of home disgraced, child deserted, good
name brought to scorn-not word of for
bearanc" and patience, and duty.
Frail because so weak. Weak, for she
was an orphan, no mother had watched her
growth, and by prayer and patient effort
made her strong; frail and wca!k-let those
who can condemn her. She left that night
homo which was no home, and after weak
ness came sin, and after sin despair, the
scorn of strangers. and then gentle DEATH
AS Ambrose Willard walked at midnight
through his lonely rooms, the spirit of his
mother walked beside him, whispering COM
fort amid his reproach-whispcring cour-
age in his lonely woe.
Yes, he would live for his child; live to
atone for the past, to wipe away tn, stain,
which through his name, had fallen on his
fathers name. He might even entice tie
lost one back, might
Servants called him to the bedside of his
little girl. She was delirious with fever,
calling wildly for her mother twas dread
full to hear this word echoing through the
great, deserted house, in the shril, plaintive
tones of that childish voice,
"Father, father! You made her angry,
you have driven her away. Only bring back
mother! No--not your hand, hers--hers ~
And thus, in a few days, the child died;
and was buried.
The father laid flowers on her grave
boughS of sweet-briar, dewey and fragrant.
And then he went forth, it was said, to
seek and reclaim his wife. There arose a
wild storm, boats were wrecked in the Sound;
and among the bodies washed ashore was
that of Ambrose Willard.
"Poor fellow ~ his friends said, 'just when
the horizon began to clear, just when he
might have hoped for peace, to be swept
by an accident ~
They looked carefully in each others face,
as they spoke; but respected his sorrows,
and were silent.
In his private leskwa foun1, duly signed
and sealed a will-made freshly-bequeath-
ing his wealth to his sisters: and merely
asking them to bury him at his mothers
feet.
1t is a mournful story, reader! Would
it twere drawn from less fresh and copious
in actual life!