Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1874-01-23

| HOb lluu any ulOTt GOmIOTl Ill III Ltldn YOU
do, but IL cannot be helped"
"That is nonsense. II can be helped ii
you will look at il in the right way"
81 have looked at il In all ways, and
there is no right way but to take up my
cross and bear it to the end. l can bear
1t better if am away from all that can
remind me of the old days. / shall moi
come home till have outgrown even the
memory oF them"
"That memory was your dearest
treasure when / left you for that short
week, Isabel"
Eyes, but you forgot that the world was
made in week. II is long enough fol
moths to corrupt, or thieves to break
through and steal our greatest treasure
DO not speak lightly Of week." she said
with a woful smile that had better have
been a sob.
isabel, you break my heart" cried
out.
"Do II Then you will be in the fash.
ion. Women's hearts were made to be
broken. The crack comes late to some
and early to others. | had long pro.
baton, but it came at last all the same.''
She went away across the sea next day
with all her flock, but the dregs of her
bitterness staid with me. | had believed
in her, and been disappointed; it is not an
uncommon experience between lovers,
and / am assured that the sensation is
very uncomfortable. There must have
been leaves on leaves folded away in her
character, that l had never found or sus.
pected, to account for the savage change
in woman who had been "all womanly.'
1t injured my digestion and disturbed
my Sleep; for it forced me to take to
pieces all my pet theories about women,
and make them over again.
Her infrequent letters told nothing of
her real life; they were full of glittering
generalities about pictures and cathedrals,
and now and then bitter jest on the hol-
| lowness of life.
Married happiness seemed to provoke
her to special wrath. The trail of the
serpent was over all her thoughts. When
/ pressed her about her own health, she
wrote, 81 am always we'll enough to bear
my burdens, such as they are. Nothing
can kill a woman, you know"
But one or two travellers who saw her
at Heidelberg (where she had fixed her.
self, to be near her brothers, who were
in the university brought word that she
was white and wan, and only the shadow
of her former self.
81 have been bored to death lately"
she wrote once, with the devotion of
Cousin George and his new wife. They
may be called vagabonds, having no visi-
BILE means of support; but love is to be
food and drink and lodging, to say moth
ing of clothes. The deluded woman
thinks she has power to keep him always
at her feet, and it would not aurprise me
at all if he were already, in his heart, a
little weary of her. Women are so easily
deceived that l wonder men have taken
so much pleasure in doing it through all
ages. / begin to favor the French Gus
tom of selecting wives and husbands for
ones children, instead of leaving them
to their own devices in the most import
ant matter of their lives The only OBJ
| lection lies in one of old Fuller's nut
shells: 'Tis to be feared that they who
marry where they do not love, will love
where they do not marry but people
will do that any way, and, after all, love
is only the right side of grief"
When George Deane and his "deluded
wife" came home ! charged them, on
| their honor, to give me true and unvar.
nished account of Mrs. Deane's condition
Of body and mind. They had been so
rapt up in one another, that they had not
seen much change in her as TO manner,
| but they had somehow got it into their
| foolish heads that she had not lived hap
PLY with her husband, as she would
never talk of him even to her children.
speedily disabused their minds of that
notion, for, as l have said before, Isabel
and her husband had never ceased to live
in their honeymoon till his death.
Isabel had been abroad five years when
she sent me golden curl of her daugh-
ter's hair, braided with iron gray, which
she insisted was her own. | sat twisting
it about my finger with my heart full of
rebellion against the evil fate that had
taken her clean out of my sphere, when
had counted on double share of her So
ciety for the rest of my life.
"This is the conclusion. of the whole
NATTER" / said TO myself, for want of
anybody else to say it to. blessed be
those who expect nothing, for they will
not be disappointed" -s-
And on that instant the pOstman, dart
ing up the steps in the rain, held up let
ter TO my window. 1t was a very thin
letter, and held only these words;
MISS DENNusoE II you will come round to the
Russell street mtirmary as soon as possible after
receiving this note, you may do some good, and
MARIA STONE, Matron of Inarmary.
Doing good in hospitals had never
been my forte, and was morally certain
that had never laid eyes on a woman of
the name of Maria Stone.
Besides all this, it rained as if it were
the first day of another deluge, and most
| likely the letter was meant for another
Miss Dennison; Dennison being COM
mon name, and the prefix Miss commoner
still, and growing more so.
am ashamed to say that 1 hesitated
some minutes, with myrubber shoes in my
hand; but curiosity, rather than benevo-
lence, finally carried the day, and went
forth, on long, wet walk to Russell
street.
"Are you Miss Dennisong" said a
woman, who seemed to be waiting to let
me into the inffrmary.
eyes"
"Miss Eleanor DennisonH"
eyes"
"Then you are the lady wanted"
! 1t was comfort in my soaked condition
to hear even that, though l put no faith
in it.
was led through q room containing
seven or eight beds, all occupied by con-
valescent patients, into small one, so
dark that / could not distinguish anything
for moment.
"ls she here 2" heard awoman's voice
ask family, and, guided by the sound, |
saw woman lying on narrow bed,
propped up with pillows.
81 am Miss DennisOn," l said, "but
am very wet, and may give you chill"
at don't matter" she returned, after
waiting for a prolonged coughing-fit to
pass. Nothing can hurt me, and must
say quickly what have to say"
Even then / felt certain impatience
that had been dragged out on such a
day, to hear the dying confession of a
stranger, who probably intended 1t for
some other person.
How often, but for our hard.working
guardian angels, we should pass by with
a sniff and miss forever the most blessed
opportunities of our lives
/ sat down by the woman's bed, and
she grasped the cape of my waterproof
as if to be certain that / should not es-
cape her, She was much emaciated (her
cheeks-bones stood like rocks at low
| n