Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1876-06-03

me; this is the true reason OF our un.
happiness. l have come to tell you
this, and to tell you l am going home to
mamma"
b And the sorrowing young wife wept
bitterly.
4 "Mary, you know 7 am your friend;
and ii what / am going to say to you
wounds you, IL is yet for your own good.
You have done wrong, my child. ad-
NIT Charles, knowing your tender rear
. ing as the only child OF wealthy parents,
b. he has been accustomed to the superior
housekeeping and good management Of
! domestic mother and industrious ais-
ters, and he doubtless attributes much
: Of your errors in making his home CON-
Portable to Indifference on your part.
He does not understand your difflcul-
ties, nor does he deem your efforts
praiseworthy, because he has been in
: the habit Of seeing others make them as
Q matter Of duty. As for his visits to
, Annie Glenn, I can, I think, explain
them. Mrs. Glenn is o good house,
keeper and q splendid cook; Annie,
bright, intelligent girl, who does not
grow cross over her household labors.
30, if Charles sometimes drops in there
to partake Of the deliciously prepared
little meal, and chat with the friend of
his childhood, in her bright, pleasant
little parlor, over the last new book, it
is not surprising"
"Oh, auntie, it may be true, but
Charles is cruel and unkind, and I am
sick of it all. I am going home to
mamma; she won't want me to cook,
and sweep, and make drudge Of my
SELF"
"Hush, Mary; you do not know what
you are saying, and surely you forget the
VOWS 80 solemnly spoken just one year
ago. It was until death do us part that
you promised to be the wife of Charles
Stanwood. Then it was not for health,
happiness and sunshine you took those
VOWS, but . for better, for worse : and
now, my child, if the worse has come so
soon to blight the orange blossoms, you
must bear it"
"Oh, no, cannot; must go back to
my old home-my dear home, where
everybody loved me. never want to
look upon Charley Stanwood's face
again." sobbed the homesick young
wife.
Don't, Mary; don't speak those
words, said tie old lady, with white,
trembling lips. They are an echo in
my heart that sounds like a funeral
dirge. And now, my dear niece, ere you
take this important step of leaving your
husband and your home, allow me to
tell you something of the history of my
own life-a chapter whose sad story has
never been unfolded to the view of your
brighter young life.
Mary, was about your age-seven-
teen-when 1 married Carlton Allen, the |
handsomest man in our town. Like |
yourself, was spoiled child-the only |
girl in family of ten children. 1 was
too young to understand the sacredness
of marriage, or to appreciate the depth |
and strength of the manly nature OF my |
husband; yet loved him. He was very
considerate, very indulgept, and pre-
sumed upon his affection and goodness
until our home became very miserable,
and at length, alas! desolate. I had al
ways followed my own wishes in all re-
spects, and when married made no
change. One day we were to have
large dinner party. Carlton was not
we'll, and had arranged to have it with
out consulting him. Among the guests
was gentleman to whom my husband
had decided antipathy. He was too
much of gentleman to treat any guest
with rudeness, but the next morning he
called me to him and told me never to
invite that man into his house again. I
answered angrily. One word brought
on another, until declared my intention
of going home, saying to my husband,
as left the room Il never wish to
look upon your face again, Carlton AL
lem And oh, my God I never did;
for that night my noble, manly husband
was killed by a violent fall from his
horse. When they told at home, next
morning, Of my bereavement, I fell
senseless to the floor, and for months I
lay lowering between life and death.
At length my strength and youth tri-
umphed, and I recovered to pass my
life in sorrowful atonement for the
folly of an hour. Since then, my child,
l have never seen young wife render
her home unhappy without great grief
to my heart"
When Mrs. Allen ceased speaking her
niece was sobbing very gently, and she
felt sure her end was accomplished,
even before the penitent young wife
murmured:
"Oh, auntie, thank you so for this
story, which know was so hard for you
to tell. 1 will go home at once, and I !
do not think Charley will ever have ,
cause to complain of me again. I feel
that l can learn to keep house, and .
make any and every sacrifice for his :
"Keep house," exclaimed Mrs. Allen,
in cheering tones, "of course you can.
Because you can paint, draw, and play t
on the piano, that is no reason why you
cannot learn to manage your household l
affairs with prudence and neatness. You t
should not want any one to say that the
stupid servants of the kitchen can g
excel you. Surely, if they can &C v
quire the mysteries of cooking, so can
you. And now am going to send my
cook to stay with you month. But =
mind, you must not spoil her (; you must q
manage and see to everything yourself,
and assist her."
"Oh, dear, good auntie, how shall I
thank your" exclaimed Mrs. Stanwood, Z
seemingly forgetful of all her trouble. =
"By doing all you can for your hus- -
bands comfort" solemnly replied the Z
Did lady. .
Two years had elapsed. In the pleas b
mt little dining-room of the Stanwoods n
vat the young wife of Charley Stan @
wood, upon whose fair brow rested an !,
of peace rarely seen. In the Il
,enter of the room was spread table q
decorated with great taste and beauty. a
The damask cloth was snow white, the y
'ilver and china were spotless, while a
lowers decorated the glasses and shaded b
he pretty cakes and abundance of g
weetmeats prepared by Mary Stan tt
woods own hands. Her own toilet was p
aultless, while the smoothly brushed 81
urls of the lovely child at her side told al
L. | l.