Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1871-08-03
Gone with a Handsomer Man.
BY WILL NJ. CARLETON.


fbs.l
When the plow-p'int struck stone and the han
dies punched my ribs.
we put my team in the blrn, ard rubbed their
sweaty coats;
we fed 'em OF heap of hay and half bushel oil
oats;
And to see the way they eat makes me like eatin'
feel,
And Jane won't say tonight that I don't make
out meal.
Well said the door is locked but here she's left
the key,
Under the step, in place known only to her and
me:
wonder whose dyin' or dead, that she's hustled
off pell-mell;
But here on the tables a note, aud probably this
will tell.
Good God my wife is gone! my wife is gone as
tray
The letter it says, "Goodby, for I'm a going
away;
I've lived with you six months. John, and so far
I've been true;
But I'm going away to-day with handsomer
man than you"
A han'somer man than mel Why, that amt
much to say;
There's hsn'somer men than me 90 past here
every day.
There's han'somer men than mel amt of the
handsome kind;
But zouin'er man than was guess she'll never
find.
Curse her curse herl I say, and give my curses
wingsl
May the words of love I've spoke be changed to
scorpion stings!
Oh she filled my heart with joy she emptied my
heart of doubt,
And now, with scratch of pen, she's let my
hearts blood out
Curse her curse her say she'll sometime rue
this day;
She'll sometime learn that hate is a game that
two can play;
And long before she dies she'll grieve she ever was
born;
And I'll plow her grave with hate, and seed it
down to scorn
As sure as the world goes on, there'll come time
when she
viii read the devilish heart of that han'someI
man than me;
AND there II De Time When ne WILL nnu, as otAe1S
do,
That she who is false to one can be the same with
two.
And when her face grows pale, AMI when her eyes
grow dim,
And when he is tired of her and she is tired Of
him,
She'll do what she ought to have done, and coolly
count the cost
And then she'll see things clear, and know what
she has lost.
And thoughts that are now asleep will wake VI
in her mind,
And she will mourn and cry for what she has left
behind
And maybe she'll sometimes long for me-for me
but no.
I've blotted her out of my heart and will mo-
have it SO.
And yet in her girlish heart there was somethn
or other she had
That fastened q man to her and wasn't entirely
bad
And she loved me little 1 think, although il
didn't last;
But mustn't think of these thipgs-Pve buried
'ex in the past.
I'll take my hard words back, nor make matter
worse;
She'll have trouble enough; she'll not have my
curse;
But I'll live life so square we'll know that
That she always will be sorry that she went with
that han'somer man.
Al ho-a % bar N;+cbap drassr II makes nv moor
eyes blur;
1t seems when I look at that, as if twas holdin
her.
And here are her weekday shoes, and there is hel
weekday hat,
didn't take that.
Twas only this mornin' she came and called me
her dearest DEAR"
And said was maxim for her a regular paradise
o, God {! if you want man to sense the perils Of
Before you pitch him in just keep him in heaven
aspell!
Good-by! I with that Death had severed US two
apart,
You've lost worshiper here you've crushed a
lovln heart.
I'll worship no woman again; but guess III
learn to pray,
And kneel as you used to kneel before you run
away.
And if thought could bring my words on helv.
en- TO bear,
And if 1 thought had some little influence
there.
7 hot I min ba nDlS
so,
JANE enteringl
Why, John, what litter here! you've thrown
things all around
Come what's the matter now and whatve you
lost or found
And here's my father here, awaiting for supper,
too;
I've been a-1iding with him-he's that hand
somer man than YOU"
Ha, ha! Pa, take a seat, while put the kettle
on,
And get the things ready for tea, aud kiss my
dear old John.
Why, John, you look so strange! Come, what
has crossed your track!
1 was only a-jokipg, you know; I'm willing to
take 1t back.
JOHN taside.l
Well, now, if this amt joke, with rather a Bit
ter cream!
1t seams as if I'd woke from a mighty ticklish
dream;
And think she ''snells rat" for she smiles at
me SO queer
I hope she don't; good Lord hope that they
didn't hear!
Twas one of her practical drives-she thought I'd
understand,
But I'll never break sod again till get the lay of
the land.
But one things settled with me-to appreciate
heaven well,
IT'S good for a man to have some fifteen minutes
of hell. Har1sr'S Weekly.
ATROCIoUs.-The following opening
paragraph from the report of the shoe
dealers picnic at Haverhill, Mass, in the
Boston Journal of Friday, is good illus
tration of the atrocities of modern journ-
alism in the quest for the novel or sen.
in style. The Bohemian OF that