The tribune. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, 1876-06-28

L should be one of the next for, you
see, instead of being we'll forward, 1 was
little behind. Not that you must
think 1 was careless, for that wasn't the
case. 1t was the getting married had
made me short, for we had been buying
furniture, aud pots, and pans, and ket-
ties every Saturday night, till 1 used to
wonder how big van it would take if
ever we had to move.
1 never told Lizziea word of what was
going on, for I says to myself, what's
the use of making her miserable2 But
at last all that had expected camel
was put Off, one of the very last, too !;
and on the Monday morning, when, like
from regular custom, walked around
to the works, l saw the gates closed,
and the whole place one great, black,
dreary desert. There was no kissing
of steam, no whirling of wheels, nothing
but silence, without SO much as a puff
OF smoke from the great furnace shafts.
The fires were out-the works were
closed
hadn't told Lizzie-I never felt the
heart-all Saturday night and Sunday,
and left her that morning singing as
bllthe as lark. So I hung about till
breakfast time, and then went back to
break it to her, and break it did.
Lord bless you, there's Lothing like
good wife to give man strength" /
says" doubles him directly" And
then we laid our heads together to fight
the world and after q bit of talk we
settled that it would be pity to break
up our little home, and though we were
halt heart-broken ut having to separate,
there seemed to be nothing else for it.
You sec, we had bit of credit where
We wore, and Miss Chadds, our land
lady, was easy, and it seemed like tax
ing Lizzie away from home and friends;
so we settled it that she should stay,
and was to 60 op tramp down to the
big towns northward, and try and get
work.
1t never rains but it pours, men say,
and now it was as if the big, black cloud
had come with vengeance, and 1
shivered as 1 stepped out into our
court on as black and dreary a morning
as ever made man miserable. We'd
got 1t over-that parting; for wouldn't
let her come out upon the stairs where
the other dodgers could see her, and my
head seemed filled with the picture of
her sitting of heap-like upon the
floor, and L was obliged, when 7 tore
myself away, to take her poor arms from
NY hSCh tuu away.
If there's any one thing that will take
the respect out of a man who is willing,
it is tramping from town to town in
search of work. And, after all, perhaps
no wonder, for one gets into queer,
low way, especially if n mans situated as
1 was, trembling for every penny I spent,
as l thought of her sitting and waiting
at home for the good news that, as
weeks passed on, I could not send.
Home There, that word, and the
thoughts of what was there, kept me up
at many despairing time, when, after
thirty, forty, or fifty miles tramp,
came, almost penniless, to q town to get
the same old answer.
1t was the old tale-no work; and at
last, half mad with disappointment, I
turned my steps homeward.
had not had the heart to write for
weeks, aud at times hadn't had even
the penny to pay for the stamp. because
1 wanted it for bread. Il had not heard
from Lizzie, either, for I had been going
about at random; here, to-day, there, to-
morrow-anywhere where 1 thought
there might be work.
1t was n weary tramp that, but ct last
[ got to London one evening, and then
1 waited until it grew later, because-in
my dirty, ragged state-I was ashamed
to be seen.
It was nine o'clock when I slipped
down our court, and glanced up at the
window-to see it dark.
"Poor lass," says, sitting in the
dark to save candle"
There was nothing to hinder me, so I
slipped up stairs-ours was the first
floor front-and tried the door-fast.
"Gone out marketing" says.
And, worn out, sat down and leaned
my cheek up against the panel, and
waited for good hour, when I heard
steps behind me, and an up stairs lodger
came down, candle in hand.
"The missus gone out, Mrs. Winkusa"
says.
When she gave start, half scream.
and ran back up stairs.
Don't know me" says to myself,
bitterly; and then in weary, dull rt
OF way, got thinking that Lizzie would
know me fast enough, changed as 1
was; and then began to be troubled at
her not coming back; and first one
thought, and then another, came into my
mind-terrible thoughts at last, about
what women had been driven to who
had been left penniless in London. I
had left her money, and she had things
to sell; but I had been long away; and
of iate had not written, and her letters,
perhaps, that she had sent to me had re-
mained unanswered. Had she, too,
turned despairing?
was weak and low. and a cloud
seemed to swim before my eyes. I grew
dizzy, and cold sweat came out on my
forehead as l staggered down to the
back parlor, knocked, and some one
said "come in !" and I stood before
Mrs. Chadds, our landlady, who set up
nuita q Shriek aa she saw mo