The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-03-28
MRS. CRUDLES CURTAIN LECTURES.
Continued from our last Issue.
THE LAST LECTURE.


THIN SHOES.
''Im not going to contradict you, Caudle;
you may say what you like, but | think
ought to know my own feelings better than
you. don't wish to upraid you neither Pm
too i'll for that; but it's not getting wet in thin
shoes; oh, mol it's my mind, Caudle, my
mind, that's killing me. Oh, yes Cruel,
indeed-you think Cruel will cure a woman of
anything; and you know, too how hate IT,
Cruel can't reach what | suffer; but of
course, nobody is ever i'll but yourself. Well,
II didn't mean to say that; but when YOU
talk in that way about thin shoes, woman
says, OF course, what she doesn't mean; she
can't help it. You've always gone on about
my shoes, when | think Pm the fttest Judge
of what becomes me best. / dare say, IT
would be all the same to you if put on
ploughman's boots; but Pm not going to make
figure of my feet, | can tell you. I've never
got cold with the shoes Ive worn yet, and It
isn't likely | should begin now.
"No, Caudle; wouldn't wish to say any
thing to accuse you: no, goodness knows, |
wouldn't make you uncomfortable for the
world-but the cold Eve got got ten years
ago. i have never said anything about it
but it has never left me. Yes ten years ago
the day before yesterday. HoaO can / recoLLect
At? Oh, very well; women remember things
you never think of: poor souls They've
good cause to do so. Ten years ago, | was
sitting up for you--there now, Pm not going
to say anything to veX you, only do let me
speak, ten years ago, | was waiting for you,
and fell asleep and the fire went out, and
when woke | found was sitting right in the
draught of the key hole. That was my DEATH
Caudle, though don't let that make you un-
easy, love; for ! don't think that you meant
to do it.
"Ha! it's all very well for you to call it
nonsense and to lay your ill conduct upon
NV Chn l-. n 1,r
never was a man yet that killed his wife, who
couldn't give a good reason for it. No: l
don't mean to say that you've killed me
quite the reverse: STILL there's never been a
day that haven't felt that keyhole. What
Why 1Coat hare a doctor? What's the use of
doctor2 Why should put you to the eX-
pense Besides, | dare say you'll do very
well without me, Caudle yes, after a very
little time, you won't Miss me much-no man
ever does.
"Peggy tells me Miss Prettyman called to-
day. What Of ii? Nothing, of course. Yes,
j know she heard | was ill, and that's why
She came. A little indecent, | think, Mr..
Caudle she might wait; | sha'n't be in her
way long; she may soon have the key Of the
caddy now.
''Ha Mr.. Caudle, what's the use of your
calling me your dearest soul now Well, do
l believe you. l dare say you do mean it;
that is, hope you do. Nevertheless, you
can't expect | can be quiet in this bed, and
think OF that young woman-not, indeed,
that she's near so young as she gives herself
out. l bear no malice towards her, Caudle-
not the least. Still | don't think could lie
at peace in my grave if-wel, won't say any
thing more about her. but you know what l
mean.
81 think dear mother would keep house
beautifully for you, when Pm gone. Well,
love, won't talk in that way if you desire it.
| va tnOnph |
won't allow it for a minute to be the shoes
certainly not | never would wear em thick,
and you know it, and they never gave me a
cold vet No, dearest Caudle, it's ten years
ago that did it; not that I'll say syllable OF
the matter to hurt you. I'd die first.
''Mother, you see, knows all your little ways;
and you wouldn't get another wife to study
YOU and pet you up as Pve done-a second
wife never does it isn't likely she should
And after all, we've been very happy. 1t
hasn't been my fault, if we've ever had a word
or two, for you couldn't help now and then
being aggravating; nobody can help their tenn
pers always-especially men. Still, we've
been very happy-haven't we, Caudle
Goodnight. Yes-this cold does tear me
to pieces but for all that, it isn't the shoes.
God bless you, Caudle; no-its not the shoes.
won't say it the key-hole; but again say,
It's not the shoes. God bless you once more
But never say it's the shoes"
It can hardly, we think, be imagined that
Mrs. Caudle, during her fatal illness, never
mixed admonishment with soothing as before
but such fragmentary Lectures were, doubt
less. considered by her disconsolate widowel
as having too touching, too solemn an import
to be vuigarized by type. They were, how
ever, printed on the heart of Caudle; for he
never ceased to speak of the late partner o
his he'd but as either ''his santed creature,
or "that angel now in Heaven"