The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1875-03-25
REDEEMED.

10 marry. she was eighteen, i was
barely in nv majority but she was a
poor dssolate little orphan sent out into
the cold world to do the best she could
for herself as a governess; I was madiy
in love with her, and I was my own
master; we had no wiser heads to advise
us AID no more experienced hands e.
guide us-so we took our own way, as
was but natural, and married on nv
clerkship Of three hundred a year. I
need scarcely say we were happy. For
the first two ears, indeed. it seemed to
me as if had never really lived until
now. Our or tty little home at Kill
burn was bright and cheerful Edith
was al Favs a6ectionate, always good
temUered. and, like Annabel Lee, seem
ed to live with no other thought than
TO love and be loved by me-" Ny work
sat on me easily; and being young peo-
pie of moderate tastes, we had money
enough for all We wanted. There was
not flaw anywhere, and the days were
scarcely long enough for the Joy that
filed them with sunshine from begin.
ming to end.
All this continued for two years, and
then my wife became a mother.
This was the first break in cur man
Der OF life-the first shadow cast over
the brightness of our happy love. 1t
changed the whole order of things, and
the change told heavily against me.
Edith was no longer my companion as
she had been. The baby was delicate,
and her health also gave way. She was
obliged To go to her own room quite
early IN the evening, sometimes at seven
O'Clock or SO, and oven when she was
we'll she was up in the morning with
the child, and the evenings hung on me
heavy and long. ] was no student in
those days. L was social, and if not in
Ordiu ately, yet undoubtedly fond of
amusement; hence, sitting alone for all
these hours after my solitary dinner
for Edith dined early by the doctors
oTders--was weary work for me, and l
grew daily more fretted by the dullness
of my once sunshiny home.
tell the story just as it was not to
excuse myself, but to explain.
Also, too, the desire for more expo
rienoe natural to my age began to make
itself felt, and more than once found
myself confessing. "We married too
young" Yet did not wish for dissi-
patton; 1 was not conscious of reserve
of wild oats that was longing to SOW,
but did want little change from the
monetony of my spoiled home. was
yearnipg for the society of men of my
own age and standing, and naturally
the boy, though 1 loved him well
enough-fOr all that thought him the
ugliest and oldest little imp had ever
seen-was not to me what he was to his
mother. To her, indeed, he was every
thing. The mother had superseded the
wife, and the husband was nowhere in
comparison, with the child Edith was
angry too that l did not, as che phrased
1t, take to him more" and l was
angry that she took to him so much.
May be that / was jealous. On looking
back l should say that / waE.
just when BERTHE was three months
old fellow in our Office introduced me
to Jack I4anghorne. Handsome, WELL
hammered, rich, gay, good tempered,
generous, Jack was Just the man to fas-
climate a comparatively raw lad, as I
still was. He knew everything, being
one of the kind who start at seventeen
as men, and Zee life" systematically
from that time. There was not an ac-
c7mplishment in which he vas not pro
hcient not game he could not play,
giving long odds and winning. He was
lavish of his money, and gambler by
inbred instinct. He was always stalking
his fate on chance. and hitherto chance
had been his friend. He used often to
say that he had been too lucky, and that
he should have to pay for it before he
had done. Nevertheless the day of pay
ment gave no sign of dawning, and Jack
went on stalking and lending, backing
the right color and the winning horse
as II he had private Nostrodamus at
his elbow, and could read the future as
other men could read the past.
dare say many of my readers viii
laugh at me for the confession, but l
had never seen a race until Jack Long
horne took me down to the Derby on
his drag. It was a day both of great
enjoyment and great excitement to me,
for under his auspices I was wild with
pleasure; perhaps, too, the champagne |
counted for something in my hilarity, |
as took home to Edith q sixth of my /
yearly income, made in fower hours |
than 1t took me TO earu my paltry dur |
ma gninea. Visions of fortune, golden |
and bright, passed before my eyes, and |
already saw Edith queening It in the |
park with her high, Stripping bays and /
faultless turnout. She should have |
everything money could command. |
Whatever else my visions showed me /
she was always foremost in my thoughts |
and highest 10 my hopes.
But when gave her the money she /
turned away from me coldly, and a min |
ute after had buried her face in the |
pillow of the sofa where she was lying /
and was sobbing. was a good deal |
surprised, little shocked, and greatly |
hurt-I had better use the harsher |
word and say vexed-Rt this outOurst. |
did not see the good of it, and 1 did /
not understand il. Besides, it ohills a |
man so painfully TO be received with |
GOODNESS and tears after such day as I /
had spent IL makes she contrast be- /
tween lite inside and outside the home /
too sharp, and only sends him further |
off instead Of drawing him nearer.
However, tears were too scarce vet for
me to disregard or withstand them, so I /
kissed my wife and did my best to /
soothe her, and by degrees brought her
round so far that she left of crying
and began to kiss the baby, as If il was
something quite new and she had never
kissed it before.
Though was sorry to see her crv
this vexed me again. She had not seen
me all the day, and she had had the
boy. Thought she might have little
attention 70 the one who had been alb
sent, TO put It on no other ground.
But when 1 demonstrated she only |
answered, 81 know, George, you do not !
care for baby. YoR never have cared 1
for him. and il it were not for me he 1
would die of neglect"
1 began 70 laugh at this. Il struck |
me as too con1ical that wife should /
reproach her husband for not taking /
care Of the baby for surely if there is |
such thing rs womsn's work" in the |
world, and they are not meant by ma
ture aud the eternal fitness of things TO |
be soldiera and sailors ard lcwyers and !
doctors, and the Lord knows what be-
sides, that work Is to be found IN the
home and nursery. But ste Was angry
when / laughed, and raising herself on