The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1872-03-15
MY WIDOW.
BY SHIRLEY BROWNE.

her--he said she was too young and
pretty.
Farnum advisedFne to remain an
old bachelor told me man past
forty simply made fool of himself
by matrimony.
Tewksbury-a man who is noto-
rious for never minding his own
business--told me she had made a
love affair with Harry Birmingham
before he went West.
Allen shook his head, and said
Clara Myers might be very pretty ;
but he liked somebody maturer and
more settled. On. Bile married
his housekeeper the next week, and
she is mature enough for Methusalah
himself !!
Everybody thought l was trying
a dangerous experiment, but | didn't
pretend to suit everybody-so |
simply suited myself, | went quietly
to church with Clara Myers and
married her one glorious January
morning, when the ewes of St. Paul's
were fringed with glittering icicles,
and the brisk wind was freighted
with particles of flying snow, like a
battalion of diamonds on the double
quick.
She was nineteen and | was nine
and-thirty She was as beautiful as
a rose bud, with a shy, pretty way,
like timid child, and | rough old
codger, sound enough at heart, but
like winter apple, unpromisiug on
the exterior
In short, we were as unlike as
May and November, and the good
natured world shook its head, and
said, "no good could come of such
an equal match" But she said she
loved me, and | believed her. No.
body could look into Clara's blue
eyes and not believe her, you see.
And the next day / made a will,
and bequeathed all my property, un-
conditionally, to my wife.
"Are you sure you are doing a
wise thing, Mr.. Folliott o. said Mar
dyn, the lawyer, pushing his spec
tacles upon his forehead, until he
looked like bald old gnome, with
a double pair of eyes. "YOu see,
she is very much younger than your
self, and"
"Please to be so kind as to mind
your own business" said |, brusquc-
ly. "Don't be offended, Mardyn,
in rage. II am mere tool in
your hands"
"That's it exactly" said l. So |
signed the will and went home to
Clara.
ooh, Paul, you must not die 7"
said Clara, with a sacred look, when
| told her what | had done. Nobody
ever loved me as truly and gener-
ously as you have done, and l don't
know what should do if you were
taken away p
"There was a young Birmingham,
if all reports were true" | mis-
chievously began, but the curl on
Clara's lip stopped me.
"a mere butterfly" she said
haughtily, '1without either brains or
principle. Paul, Paul, l have found
shelter in your true, loving heart,
and | mean to nestle there always !"
And then she cried--this foolish
soft hearted little wife of mine.
Jones and Tewksbury might have
called this policy. Farnum would
have said it was acting. But it was
very pleasant, and | felt more than
ever like a man who has found
some precious jewel, and wears it,
like an amulet, on his breast.
So things went on until the firm
of which | was managing partner,
need to send some one to Calcutta to
see after a turbaned scoundrel of an
agent, who had absconded with more
money than we could well afford to
lose. Morrison was old and feeble
Hewitt's wife lay very i'll, so | was
the one to go. | kissed Clara good
bye as cheerfully as could, fully
expecting to be back in three months
or SO. But-you know the French
adage-"Thomme, propose, ct Dieu
dispose ]"
had to follow the agent up into
the mountains of India-I fell i'll of
one those burning climate fevers in
the bungalow of az old native priest,
and months few by, until it was more
than a year before | found myself on
the deck of the "Blue-eyed Mary"
steaming into New York harbor.
And, all this time, Clara had new
err heard a word from me
had written to her, to prepare
her for what seemed almost like my
rising from the dead, but / had af-
forwards found my letters in the
pocket of the neglectful native SER
want who had undertaken tie deliver
the mails to the Calcutta Office.
"But it don't matter so much,
now !" | thought, "she will be the
more delighted, poor little girl"
And then a cold chill seemed to
creep through all my veins, like a
November's wind suddenly breathing
across bed of flowers.
Clara had heard nothing Of me
for nearly fifteen months-what