The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1872-06-21
ONLY A FARMERS WIFE.

ONLY A FARMERS WIFE.
Two women sat together at sunset in
the porch door of a white cottage that
stood under its ancestral treer and
among its fields of wheat and corn,
like poets vision of a quiet resting
l'."e for some weary, suffering human
soul.
And one of these two women had
eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to
feel and appreciate it all. She was a
tall and stately lady, apparently some
thirty years of age-nOt exactly hand
some, but with a grace of air and man.
ner peculiarly her own. The careful
toilet, the nameless air of elegance and
luxury, the pale cheek, the soft white
hands, betrayed the city dame. While
the weary glance i'm her large dark
blue eyes, which even the quiet of that
sunset hour could not drive away,
showed that time had not delt gently
with her and her hearts idol, but had
thrown them, scattered and ruined, at
her feet.
Her companion was some five years
her junior, and many times prettier-a
little round-faced, apple-cheeked wo-
man, with dark blue eyes and dark
brown hair, and a rounded figure that
was set off to the best advantage by
the afternoon dress of tinted muslin
that she wore.
At present the pretty face was al
most spoiled by a querulOus discon-
tented expression. She was contrast,
ing her own hand, plump and small
but certainly rather brown, with the
slender white fingers of her city friend,
all glittering with rings. "Just look
at the twow she exclaimed. "That
comes of making butter and cheese,
and sweeping, and busting, and wash
ing dishes, and making beds all the
time. That man told the truth that
said that wOman's work was never
done. / know mine never is. Oh,
dear, dear! To think that you, Mar
garet, should have married q city mer-
chant, and he as rich as princess in a
fairy tale; and here L am planted for
life, plain Mrs. Hiram Parke, and
nothing in the world to compare with
you. 1 am sick of being only far
mer's wife.
Margaret Won HOwth looked down
at her gr,lmbling little friend with a
sad smile.
Uenny, it seems to me, as We sit
here i'm this quiet place and look out
over all these pleasant fields that are
your Own-it seems to me that you are
almost wicked to talk like that
az dare say, you would never like it,
Margaret. You would never wish to
change places with me-"
perhaps not. Would you not like
to change with me"
"Yes.n
"And be Mrs. Won Howth, instead
of Mrs. Hiram Parke?"
Jennie hesitated. She dearly loved
her handsome husband.
dwell, don't mean that / want ia
give up Hiram. l only mean that |
wish he was a city merchant, instead
Of q farmer, and as rich as your hus-
band is; that is ALL"
"And that is a great deal. Jenny,
if your wish could be granted, do you
know what your life would be?" said
Mrs. Won HOwth, coldly.
"Wbat yours is 1 suppose. What
any lady's is i'm your position"
"But what is that life. Do you
know"
"How should I?n
at is q weary one, Jenny, with
more genuine hard work i'm it than all
your making of butter and cheese
ooh, Margaret!
"And, oh, Jenny! believe me, my
dear, there are no people on earth who
work harder than the fashionables
who only have their own amusements
to provide for. A long life of mere
amusements is dogs life, Jenny, al
the best"
al should like to I've convinced of il
by actual experience" said Jenny,
dOubtingly.
$50 / said and thought once. have
been so convinced. And it is all van.
ity and vexatiOn of spirit, my dear"
"But how?" persisted Jenny.
"How? In ten Thousand ways. ii
you i've i'm the fashionable world; you
must do as the fashionable warld doe
You must rise and dress, and shop,
and lunch, and dress again and drive,
and dress again aud appear ut certain
balls, parties, concerts, exactly as your
friends do, or he voted bizarre, and out
of the world altogether. You, my poor
Jenny, who are by no means fond OF
dress, what would you do at fashion
able watering place i'm the hottest days
of August, with five changes of toilet
between morning and night, and q
French lady's maid to tyranniZe oveI
you all the time into the bargain ?"
"Horrorsw calculated Jenny.
"Balls that you must go to i'm spite
of fatigue, parties that you must go to
i'm spite OF the heat, calls that you must
make on people that you detest! Oh,
Jenny, / should far rather be at home
with the butter and cheese if / were
YOU"
Jenny was silent. Here was the
side of the bright picture which she
had never seen or dreamed OF before.
"YOu love your husband, Jenny ~
said her friend after time.
Jenny opened her eyes wide.
"Love him! Why, isn't he my hus-
band ?" was her reply.
Mrs. Won Howth laughed.
"Some women i'm society might
think that reason why you shouldn't
love him !" she said, dryly. And he
loves you, alsoT'
al should die tomorrow if thought
he did not"
"Tut, child. People leave this world
when God wills it, not before. i dare
say YOU would survive his infidelity.
Many women before you have lived
through such things"
"Don't talk of it, Margaret, / could
not bear it. Why, he is all the world
to me. How could bear to lose it %
"Then don't wish him to he city
merchant, my dear. l dare say there
are many good meE in the city-men
who love their wives; but, on the
other hand, there are so many tempta-
tons, especially i'm society, that some
times wonder not that so many 60
astray, but that so many remain true
TO themselves and their duty"
She spoke absently, and her eyes had
PARKWAY glance, AS if they dwelt on
other things.
Jenny venturcd a question.
Margaret, is yours a happy mar
riage? Do you love your husband
And does he love you?"
Mrs. Won Howth started and turned
pale.
"Jenny, j would have loved HIM
would have been good wife to him
but he never loved me. He brought
me to place at the head of the house,
because he thought me ladylike and
interesting; that was all. He told me
once though not quite so plainly as
this. And since then we have each
taken our own way, independent of the
other. | seldom see him at our house
in town, l have my carriage, my dia-
monds, my opera box. In the season