Litchfield enquirer., 1861-01-17
THE WIDOWS RUsE.

most treacherous memory imaginable for dates when Quarz was at Berlin-yeu, of course, know who Quarz was-if you do not I'll tell you. He was the celebrated musical composer and musi- elan at the court of Frederick the Great, and, by the way taught him the flute. Quarz was the pupil of the famous counterpointst, Gasparini Quarz in short was the man who, as he was leav- ing the orchestra one night, heard ball whistle in his ear, ticketed for him by the Spanish am- bassador, who was in love with certain marchi- oness. l can assure you the aim was good one, and the maestro might we'll bob his head, | and wink his eyes.
 At the tine of which was speaking, before got into these parsntheses, Quarz was forty one; tall and well-made in his person, and of a noble and characteristic countenance which joined to talent whose superiority no one could dispute, gave him free access to all societies and caused him to be well received everywhere. He was, among others, particularly intimate with one Schindler, friend of his youth who had followed the same studies-almost with the samo success. What blessing was such a friend! In his house, after the fatigues and adulations that every coming day brought with it, Quarz passed his evenings At Schindlers he sought for balm to the wounds of envy and jealousy, fortified his mind against the caprices of the great, and above all from Schinder he was sure to meet with tribute due to his ge- nius, and praises that came from the heart
 But death laid his cold and pitiless hand on Schindler, and with his terrible scythe cut that knot that only he could sever.
 Nerecord of the time remains to tell us wheth- CT Madame Schindler "lamented him sore" There are some sorrows over which we are fore ed to throw veil. Perhaps she did, perhaps she did not, shed tear-perhaps flood of tears. Habit and long intimacy are mighty and powerful things.
 Yet, though Schindler was no more Quarz still continued his visits whether from long cus- tom, or particular affection for his lost friend, does not appear and the young widow contin- ued 10 receive him with her accustomed wei come.
 For considerable time no particular occur renee happened to interrupt their interviews, the motive of which seemed to be mutual con solation. It is only by looking closely, and ex aming events with attention, that we can discov- CT any dmnution of their affection for poor Schindler; but by degrees he faded from their memory. They now and then spoke of him, it to speak of him at all Schindcr was allowed to slumber peacealy in his case of wood, was quietly inurned, "requiescat in pase."
 For myself, l can perfectly understand all this. l can see no necessity for remaining in consolable at au irreparable loss, and can con- ceiye no folly greater than his or hers had they doomed themselves to eternal regrets
 Whilst the lamp burns, if ever 50 fsebly, nourish the flame by all means; but when once it is extinguished, it is waste of time and com mon sense to trim it or snpply it with oil. There is an old French song that runs thus:
 "Quand on est mort, c'est pour long temps"
 Thus, as I said, Madame Schindler had given up weeping, and as every one shoull have some o+bo oIoh h.t1 of fr-at ting new husband in lieu of the old. The idea was not bad one. Is it not so? With this view she employed herself in repairing the dis order of her tolet-n smiling on her visitors in coquetting with them little. And who can blame her? If you know mankind as well as l do, you must be aware that these things, much as we may despise them, go great way in the world. Depend on it, that if woman is simple in her manners, and plain in her dress, and without what most people term affectation or coquetry, no one will take the trouble of looking at her twice.
 Madame Schindlers house underwent simi- lar metamorphoss to her own. The venetians that had for a year been carefully clesed, began to let in the day, and were dIapered with more care and elegance than ever. The very furniture seemed to assume @ new life. Her doors opened almost of themselves to her form CT friends and new acquaintances, and more than one guest at time took his seat at her dinner table.
 Quarz was, as may be supposed, always wei come and he had this advantage, that, come when he might, she was at home to him. Noth ing less could be expected from so old friend, and no one could possibly find fault with her for that you will allow.
 One day, in the midst of an animated conver-. satisn with her amiable favorite, Madame Cohi ral ot hurst ptn 1pin ing of pain in her side, and violent headache. Quarz was |" que petit soins," and did and said all that might have been expected of him in such case. Madame SchindIer went to bed and sent for physician.
 We'll, you will say, what is there extraordinary in that? Yesterday had stitch in my side, and a headache, and what can they have to do with your anecdote?
 Don't be impatient-much, and you shall soon hear.
 Quarz was seated by her bedside when the doc tor entered. He felt her pulse, and his lips ex- pressed, by slight but significant contraction that he entertained no very favorable opinion of her symptoms whilst Quarz kept his eye con- stantly fixed on her pale countenance. where the finger of death had seemed to set it's fatal seal. He was sad and motionless, and waited in s- lence the stern decrees of heaven. But the pa- tient had perceived the evil augury of the phys- cian's eyes.
 I see," said she, with feeble voice, 1T see, alas that am doomed to die. Doc tor I am grateful to you. 1 had rather know the worst, than flatter myself with vain delusion'
 Well" said he, "since must-since all the aid of medicine is vain, leave you, Madame He cast melancholy glance at Quarz, who was now really affected.
 The patient expressed wish to be alone, and Quarz and the Doctor retired to an adjoining chamber.
 Some minutes afterward they were again sum- moned. ....... ......
 "Joachim,' said the dying lady, addressing Quarz, you perceive that am about to leave you But before quit this world-before l take my eternal rest, have one favor to beg Of you--one ony-say, will you refuse it oH my death-bed?"
 You may imagine the reply; Quarz did what you or would have done in his place, lie promised, whatever it might might be, te comply with it. .,., .,
 voice still feebler, "but dared not rely on it. It is-tbat before die, you should make me yours Call me but your wife. I shall then be the hap piest of women, and have nothing further to wish for" ..r yaj fa sst~s5s.ee! fr--s ssa.... r..
 The request was a singular one, but Quarz had promised, and really the engagement bound him to nothing for, in few moments, the tie would be broken by the divorce of death.
 He therefore consented with a good grace, and sent for notary public. The deed was drawn up in due form. He signed it. The doc tor signed it as a witness. The widow, with a trembling hand, affixed her signature to the pa per, and all was over. But all was not over.