Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1869-12-31

| bradbury IQOuSut OF INC SeCouu MIS-.
b, up stairs, and fancied he saw a
loop-hole. ....f
81 was fifty three, I believe, and she
brought me thirty-five thousand pounds. "
Bradbury p and the bright eyes of the
sylphide were fixed on him with threat
ening glance-"Bradbury, you're prevari-
eating When you married your first wife,
Kates mother, you were three and twenty
a ight-hearted lad like that portrait and
she was good little girl, with bright
loving face for her only dowry. And you,
sir, what was your income then ?"
''Seven dollars week." said Bradbury,
penitently.
''Not princely, Mr.. Bradbury, but you
made it enough, didn't you"
Gay, that we did" said Bradbury, "and
were as happy as the day is long,
"You're condemning yourself, you see, "
older than you and your wife were then,
and have good deal more to keep house
open; and you know yourself they love
each other dearly"
"Love fiddle stick" said Bradbury
"all oy-and girl nonsense"
you're quite above that sort Of thing
yourself, sir, I suppose?"
81 should think was" said Bradbury.
very good" said the lady, every good.
Now, do you think you would know your
own hand writing ?" And she looked
searchingly at Mr.. Bradbury, with her
head on one side, and nischievous twin
kle in her eyes, like an Old Bailey barris-
ter who is getting a witness into fix, and
intends TO be down upon him tremendous.
ly in a minute. perhaps you will be
kind enough to take any one of that bun
die of letters, and tel! mo what you think
of it,"
Bradbury did as he was ordered. The
first paper he laid his hands upon had
been enclosed III the envelope from which
the sprite had emerged. 1t was yellow with
age and sadly frayed at the edges. He
opened it, and recognized it as a ''valen-
tine," sent in years long ago to his dead
wife, in the happy days Of their courtship.
A strange sensation futtered at Bradbury's
heart, and mist seemed to come before
his eyes, as he read the long forgotten
lines. They were his own, and exhibited
faults in plenty, both in meter and phra-
seo!ogy, but they breathed warmth and
life to which his heart had long been q
stranger. And Bradbury thought of one
to whom those lines, rough and irregular
as they we're, had been the perfection of
poetry; who had read them over and over
again with unfading pleasure, till, like the
ten upon, the gentle life had worn away,
and he had been LETT alone. Alone de-
prived Of her whose sweet presence had
cherished all loving thoughts and tender
pathies-Who by her gentle influence
had prevented the cares Of business and
the toilsome struggle for success from eff
facing all noble aspirations and generous
synlpathies from Lis once warm heart
And Bradbury remembered now, when
she had gone, that the good influence had
slowly faded away, and had left him world
~ and avaricious with the last best relic of
his former self, his love for her child, de-
generating into q vain ambition to see her
veil endowed with the gold which he had
made his god. and then came a bitter
thought of his second marriage-a mar
riage made for money only, and of which
Indifference was the most pleasant phase.
bury covered his face with his hands.
"You do not scott at love now" said the
Sprite. ''The tears which steal through
your fingers show that there is some life
in your frozen heart. Weep on, Benjamin
bradbury ! Every one Of those tears is
worth a thousand Of your gold coins
Learn thiS--you knew it once. learn it
again-and cherish the truth In your heart
forever-that every man who walks this
earth is by the bond of common humanity
linked to every other. Our Master, when
He created man, ordained that none should
live for himself alone. Each one is linked
by cords invisible to friends, to kinsfolk,
TO humanity at large; and along these
electric wires our sweetest pleasures come.
If man, in his blindness, snap the cords,
those dearest pleasures shall come to him
no more. The various relations and de-
of fn
as the boughs of the parent tree. They
derive their strength and sap from him,
but they render as much as they receive.
While his branches wave around him,
each leaf shall catch breath of the cool
breeze, ray Of the golden sunshine or
drop OF the refreshing rain; and every
genial influence thus received shall send
thrill of pleasure to his heart. But let
him lop the branches which derived their
life from him. and he shall be like the
trunk blasted by lightning. The sun may
shine and the rain may fall, but he is SEN
sitive to their influences no longer; he
shall be cold and dead at heart forever.
Benjamin Bradbury, for the last half of
your life such have you been. You have
tried to shake off all loving sympathies,
and you have we'll nigh succeeded. And
what has your life been ? Have you once
equal to that produced in the old days by
the gift of a penny in real loving charity :?
Have you ever had the happiness of re
ceiving poor mans blessing Have you
ever had the pleasure Of seeing in your
own homo circle, Or among those you call
your friends, faces gladden. or eyes grow
brighter at your presence ? You know
that you have not. You know that in your
heart of hearts you would be glad at this
moment to exchange half of your wealth
for one week OF the old light-hearted
feeling, the pleasant inward warmth which
you had in those boyish days. Is it not
so %
sit is ! indeed it is "
off such is really your feeling, the reali-
cation OF your wish ls in your own power.
You cannot be young again in body, but
You can be young at heart, and regain
much, very much, of the feelings of those
old happy days. But the act must be
your own, and you may make beginning
low. Would you condemn your child to
loveless life, and sell her for gold, for an
existence such as your second union has
been @
"Heaven forbid ~