The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1873-12-25

abel considered wine as belonging to
gentle breeding. That Mrs. Smiths
"man" should come to the gutter
through rum, was a thing to be ex-
pected: " that sort of people you know,
etc.," but that Mrs. Burnham's lord
could be touched with the same infrm-
ity, was a revelation of human nature
for which she was not prepared. Like
all natures of her cast, she stood in
fercest judgment over what she loved
best.
Burnham slept till late sun thrust
bright daggers through his hair, and
heated his eyelids.
Dissipation treated him kindly. He
came down to luncheon after bath and
toilet and a little philosophy, as fresh
and suave as your father confessor.
Isabel did not trouble him for the time.
She had taken her maid and gone out,
he supposed, and he was glad of having
more time to recover himself before he
attempted to pass muster. under those
black eyes again. He came home to
dinner invigorated by business, with
his winning, repentant guise on his arm,
ready for use, as you may say. But
Isabel had not yet returned. No one
had seen her that day.
He rushed to her room and plowed
among her belongings. She had taken
little and that little had evidently been
packed hastily.
Pinned to a frame containing his por-
trait, Burnham found her last testa-
ment; he opened it with a face like
the dead. She said to him:
"Do not search for me. We can new
er be anything to each other again. You
have killed me; you taught me to lean
on and adore the best of men and then
you unmasked and showed me what you
were. The world is black have no
faith in anything"
Mr. Burnham, in reading this scrap,
forgot the repose of good breeding.
He fell upon his knees as if Hercules
had planted a blow between his eyes /;
he rung,for the police, and whirled up
the great hotel like a madman. But
those much buttoned gentlemen, With
clubs and ornamented caps, have a
soothing effect on the most narrowed
mind. Bnrnham dropped down in his
parlor, with his head between his hands,
anb explained himself, in fragments, to
one of them, who stood reading him
like book.
"Did she have money ?" asked the
immovable.
''She has large bank account, her
own property, which I never touch.
Perhaps she has cashed that"
On investigation it was found that
she had.
"And with eighteen hours start, D."
pursued the immovabie, "sheII be well
away from the city by this time. De-
scription of lady, and lady's woman,
sir ?'
So they took notes, examined, put
their hand to the wires, and few about
surely and silently, while Burnham
measured his rooms or the streets, or
set in police stations, looking like an
old man.
Once, when a Juvenile, seized
stone, with an impulse of disgust, and
hit n rat which crept from under the
barn. It screamed and tottered, lifting
suffering eyes. The poor thing had
been poisoned great ulcers were on
its back it was crawling from death,
and hurt it 1 sat down on the grass,
crying and wringing my hands, the YER
lest wretch alive; had struck a suffer
ing, defenseless creature If could
only have gathered the rat on my lap
and soothed its dying moments ! But
he dragged out of sight and left me ev-
erlasting remorse. Since cruelty is a
two-edged sword that falls back painful
ly if you use it even against vermin,
how it must cut if we have lifted it
against our best beloved
The rhyme of Burnham, his wander
ings, his remorse, his sack-cloth and
HASTINGS, are they not written in the
book of his experience?
His police force traced Isabel out of
the city, but they were long discover
ing her. They sent him continued mes
sages of their progress; he left his
affairs to follow every clue. And
dismal hours he spent in her dressing
room poring over a glove or a ribbon,
enjoying the sweetness of freedom and
widowhood. The Pickwick Club"
was no stay to his care. He hated the
sight of their Bacchanalian faces.
1t seemed that years instead Of
months had passed, when the chief man
of buttons and clubs waited on him one
day, with the joyful assurance that in a
certain northern village, in n certain
house, he would find his wife. Was it
ieyful assurance after all? At the end
Of his long, sickening journey, he stood
81 the gate of her house, about dusk,
more depressed than he had ever felt
before. She had commanded him not
to search for her Be was minded to
tarn and go back, satisfying himself
with the knowledge that all was well
with her. Such floods of change had
rolled between them. He knew not
how to approach he-.
But, like a call to him, little cooling
cry came from the house; it stirred him
like a sea. Then Isabel came to the
window, looking out and up. Her
beautiful face was softened and sweet
ened, for she had been in the hard land
of maternity, under discipline which
brings out the angel-side of woman; in
her arms she held his little child.
Her eyes falling on her husband, this
most consistent woman reached toward
him, bursting into a low, glad cry of,
'' Oh, I knew you'd come -
After supper, when the room was
cosy, and the good maids steps had
ceased, and the blessed child had been
admired till both parents were in a state
of imbecility, Isabel lung to a button
of her husbands coat and falteringly
confessed her sins her days of dark
ness /; her ignorance of patient love, all
the baby came to teach her. TheI