The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1873-07-24
Only for Married Folks.


At the time in question you are living IN.
the pretty little suburban villa which your
Eathor-in-law obligingly bought and furnish.
ed for you and your wife. Il is quiet.
lovely little place, just outside the great city,
whose roar comes down to you in a.sort oil q
subdued musical way. You are the happiest
man alive. Having wooed, won and married
the lovcliest of her sex, it is quite reasonable
that you should be. t's
The evening previous you sat upon the
:. porch and smoked cigar. Your wife came
out and sat with You little while. Never
did she look so lovely as she did then in her
loose wrapper, with her golden hair sweep
ing away in lovely braids from the handsome.
though pale, face. She doesn't talk much,
but simply places her head on your shoulder,
and you seem to know instinctivey that she
is crying. 1t is not a boisterous grief; the
tears come as gently as does the dew upon
the roses in the garden beyond There is
a new, strange light in the deep blue eyes,
half sad, half joyful. Somehow you feel
wrctchcd, and rcmorse seizes you as vigorous
ly as it would a pirate. You have chok-
ing sensation in the throat, and come to the
conclusion that the best thing for you to do
is to go out and drown yourself in the horse
pond.
After your wife goes to bed you sKulk to
your own temporary apartment. No one
takes any notice of you in the house. That
estimablc lady who is partly responsible for 4
your wife's existence, looks at you as if you
were on show in neurological cabinet, and |
she was endeavoring to determine towhat order
of fossils you belonged. The room in which
you camp has been hastily fitted up for your
reception. 1t is full of old boxes and barrels, 4
and you are continually falling over the one
and tumbling into the other. Finally you'll
drop off into sleep, to be awakened about
two o'clock in the morlng by spectral figure
clad all in white. holding in its hand
phantom lamp. turns out to he your moth /
er-in-law, and not the ghost Of some dead
landhdy como to collect little bill, as ;you3
first imagined.
"And be quick about it toow This is
shot after you as you jump into tho night
from the front doorstep, after having put 7
your clothes on as if you were peparl1g for
some comic lightning change. How yeu race
along the street, running the. risk of being +
shot at for burglar BY sone sleepy, srdralt
watchman! And how you pull the doctor
bell, when that individuals residepce s; aff
last reached l.; ;You hall9o up to him;
his Higbt-capped head xozuz k the
dow, and feel d eadfnIly blue whilc he y |
dressing. his buggy comes round to- the
door in jiify, and in little while you and
he are at your own home.
Then begins to reign the mystery: There
is much running to and fro, and lamps |
roam over the house like cratic iireilies
Too nervous to stay indoors, you take the
porch again. and light another cigar. In
moment your wife sends for YOU" only
want to kiss you, dear, and have YOU kiss
me-" How the moisture comes to the eyes,
as YOU bend over the pale, patient face,
turned up from the snowy pillow. You kiss
her, pat her check, and your tears GENE ram
ing down to mingle with hers. Then you,
arc hustled out Of the room, and roam around
the house like q maniac.
An hour or so passes by, and the doctor
comes down stairs and finds you in the back
yard putting away at cigar, which went out
an hour before. Tie extends his hand anu
says, "Allow me to congratulate you. l"u
put your hand on his shoulder. and whisper
in his ear lie puts his hand on you shoulder
and whispers in your ear. Then you say
sBullv,' and maybe execute limited horn
pipe. lie gets in his buggy and drives
away.
The time comes when you arc admitted.
There is an elderly female busting about
and occasionally boiling something oyer n
cas.stovc. You recognise her as the nnr.c
| The windows are darkened. and on a little
stand arc the flowers you sent in that morn
inc. Their fragrance steals gratefully through
the room and then into your heart
You never felt so tender and poetic in
your life. On tiptoc you approach the bsH;
Your step is as noisclcss as The south VIVA
singing through the bowed lattice, but 1T Is
sufficient to wake the sleeper. Z qulcE
flush of pleasure comes to the white check,
and she beckons YOU to lean over. There Is
one sweet little kiss, and she whispers III
your ear, Il am so happy" Then she turn
down the covorlid, and you sec small PA"
and white face, hardly as b; as yo"r hand.
The movement wakes it, and two chubby fists
plow into the eyes, and then square awai$
at existence" 1t may even utter shriI
but plaintiyc cry, and then ',c nurse conc
and takes it up, while YOU. with bowed mead
at the bedside, thank God for the bliss he
has given YOU.
Pretty child happy mother '-ccaiatir
father. The radiance Of the honeymoon
was glorious, but this new star floods youl
life with lis divine rays, and srems to slId all
the coming time Would that itwcre always
SOY J. Mail.