Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1860-01-13
THE BROKEN HEARTDD.
DY uRA n. n. STEvENS.
Dead! Ada Howard dead I" was

H.
Dead! Ada Howard dead - was
rental ejaculation, as the note,
obtaining an invitation to the funeral
of one Of my earliest and dearest
friends, fell from my hand, and | sat
musing upon the suddenness of the
blow that unexpectedly deprived our lit
tie hemisphere OF its brightest star:
There are some creatures so joyous and
light hearted, SO formed to beautify
and adorn society, SO made to love and
be beloved, that the very idea Of death
in connection with them, seems cruel
mockery. And when they are gone,
and the green sod has shut them out
from our eyes we can scarcely bring
our minds to believe that the curtain OF
eternity has closed over them forever,
and only memory left to fill their va
cant places, Such an one had been
Ada Howard. A being with heart
wild and impassioned as her intellect
was exalted. A creature so high and
lofty in sentiment, so rich and dream
like in her beauty, that man might
we'll have bent his proud spirit ador-
ingly at her feet and been forgiven
for his idolatry. Yet, it was said, that
with person endowed with more than
earthly beauty, with mind studded
with jewels of Gods own setting, she
could lavish the warm generous feelings
of an impulsiye nature, on one whose
soul was too cold and hinty to give
back single answering echo to the
low pleadings of her troubled heart
1t was said that this gifted child of ge-
MUS, this being so assimilated to her
Creator, whose aspirations, like the
perfume from the bosom Of the flow
ers, went upward and was lost in the
wilderness of bright things, that flash
ed and sparkled in their azure mount
ings, had forgotten her sacred mission
and bowed the high and holy purpose
of her soul upon an earthly altar, and
that he who had taught her to search
out the hidden treasures of her soul
was a vain, frivolous triher, an idle
boaster, who sought the pure con6ding
love Of woman for conquest's sake, one
we'll skilled in the mysteries Of the hu-
man heart, who could look calmly on
and see q Wild passionate spirit coming
its warm life-drops for his sake only to
makethat spirits agony pastime for
his leisure moments. Oh, woman! wo-
man! when will ye learn the folly, the
utter hopelessness Of the venture when
you risk your all Of happiness in the
frail bark Of Lone. Alas! for the
weakness and dependence Of her sex,
some hing she must live for, something
she must worship in the hours of heI
loneliness she never knows the true
end and aim of her pilgrimage on
earth-never learns her capability fol
happiness or endurance, till the foun-
tain Of her heart has been aroused by
the master hand Of love, and the
bright gems that lay hidden in it:
depths melted IN PASSIONS chalice and
poured out upon the broad shrine OF
affection. The clouds. Of jealousy and
dlstrust may gather around her, she
may be deceived, betrayed, abandoned,
yet amidst the ruin Of broken VOWS,
crushed hopes, love still burns on and
on, to light up the secret treasure
house Of her bosom, where, while life
remains, will linger some memory Of
the few brief moments Of rapture, when
her tilnid, trusting spirit, in the full
certainty Of being beloved, lest its own
identity in the existence Of another.
But will that memory be sufficient re-
compense for years Of faithful endur-
ance, if he, the chosen oae, prove cold
AMI false-if he reject the sacrifice and
fling it back upon the charity Of sell
fish world, hopeless and alone? Pride
will teach her to gather up the bleed
ing remnants Of crushed spirit and
hide them beneath the mantle Of de-
ceptlon, but will it fill the dark cham
bers Of her heart left vacant and lonely
by the absence Of that love, the con-
quering Of which has blighted every
bud in the garden Of hope, and left it
a weary starless desert? Vain suppo-
sition! Till man learns to appreciate
the warm, generous devotion Of our
sex woman will ever turn deaf ear
to reason, and trust to be deceived.
Thus it was with Ada Howard she
knew that her chosen one had many
faults, yet she loved him as only true
woman can love, and when others
warned her Of his treachery and dupli-
city, till her head ached with its load
of misery, and the scalding tears burn
ed their way into her brain, still the
memory Of some word Of tenderness,
some look Of fondness, would plead for
his perverted nature, and turn her
cup Of bitterness to one Of joy. She
believed him! Poor girl, how could
she do otherwise, when she knew that
loneliness and utter desolation would
follow the waking Of her dreams But
the Almighty bcheld with a sorrowful
eye the dissertation Of the lofty and
brilliant fabric which his own hand had
reared upon her heart. and saw fit in
his wisdom to draw aside the Aimsy veil
Of artiice that shrouded the hideous
ness and deformity Of her Idol.
One evening while the breath Of the
apple blossoms mingled with the warm
air of early summer, Ada Howard and
her Iover wandered out i'll the hush of
twilight into the old wilderness that
hangs i'll green drapery for miles and
miles over the banks Of the liver. 1t
was unwise--pcrhaps unnsaidenly-
but in our own quiet little circle we are