The Weston Democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1875-current, 1876-03-06
LIFE IN PARIS.
4 Letter from Arsrnc Ilous-nyc.-PONrri
Among Women TouchinRly Pninfui--
Story'ot n Suicide.

4 Letter from Arsrnc Ilous-nyc--PoNrriy
Among Women TouctinRly PRiufnl--
Story'oi n Suicide.
Arscnc Houssayc, in letter to the
Tribune, tells tho following touching
little story: Yesterday my physician
came for mo, TO show mo horrible and
touching picture Of Partisan life.
would call it tableau vivnnt, but it was
picture OF death. We went to the
Rue do LongchRmps, near that ancient
close where tho Duke OF MOutpousier
now has his palNce, and where twenty
years ngo whole republic Of beggars
had right Of asylum. In vain have
these poor creatures been turned out
over and over again; there still remains
several families Of them in the neighbor-
hood. My doctor took mo to hovel in
ruins, inhabited by three starving fami
lies dcsoation of desolations. One
felt, on seeing there n hnlf-dozen SILVER
ing and almost naked children, like
tearing ones cloak in two, like tho glo-
rious st. Martin. Why wns not the
Arch of Triumph OF the Porte St. Mar
tin dedicated to him instead OF Louis
XIV.2
In the third story, in n little chamber
with bare walls, on wretched pallet OF
straw, l sRw young woman hardly
dressed who had died M hour before.
She was very beautiful III her pallor.
Her black hair yelled her bosom; n
Vague smile wandered over her lips.
Death is always gentle, even to suicides.
The pan OF charcoal, not yet entirely ex-
tingiishci, showed how the young
woman had accomplished her death.
To make sure, she had fastened her
dress over n broken pane i'll the window.
A letter on tho mantGlpiecc revealed the
last thoughts Of tho poor creature.
"My dear Leon, il you return to
Paris and learn Of my death, this letter
will tell you why die. You abandoned
me to follow that girl who has been tho
cause OF all our unhappiness. l thought
you had forgotten me, and so l forgot
myself. But the man to whom went
has been my punishment. 1t was not
ny fault. l had nothing, and I could
only earn by working for the Bon
Ma~chG fifteen or eighteen sous day
hardly enough to pay for my room. l
was always thinking of you. l lived
only in tears. When your letter came it
was like n stab. What You loved me
still, and I had betrayed you! lam not
worthy OF you, and so l do justice to
myself. When you hear that am
dead, you will pardon me. Now l will
light my charcoal. My head swims. ]
will 60 to bed and pray for you. II
you -
There was no signature. The I'M
happy woman Ind ouly true to full back
on the pallet where We found her. Ono
OF the women OF the house explained the
letter to us. The dead woman's husband,
wood eugraver, had left her after six
months Of marriage, during which time
they had seemed to live happily together.
Hewent away with n barmaid, onpretensc
Of letting up brewery in Flanders.
Tho deserted wife fell also into evil
courses. But one day she received n
repentant letter from her husband, in
which he called her his dear little wife,
and announced his return for the next
day. This letter We also saw. This is
tho concluding portion Of it: "Nly dear
little wife, lido not know where my eyes
were, for there is not your equal any.
where for beauty and goodness. You
shall see how good will DO to YOU to
make YOU forget my treasons. l have
been doing some work hero, and have
some pennies to bring back to you, to
pay your rent aud buy a new dress"
"Poor womanl" said one OF the gos-
sips who was there "shc has no rent
to pay now, and the only dress she needs
is shroud, aud l have brought that for
her. Would You believe it, gentlemen,
wheu she saw from that letter that her
husband thought she was still good, she
broke down crying, and said she wanted
to iiel We told her she was crazy, and
she promised to wait for him. But she
lighted the charcoal after We were gone.
There wouldn't be many women in the
world il they were all like that" she
added, with cheerful philosophy.
This abandonment OF women is mn
every day story. The misery OF work.
ingwomeu without work, this stoical de.
votion of starving mothers, ought to
open the eyes of Legislators who imagine
themselves philanthropists. In London
there are asylums for those who have 10
work and no bread but at Paris the
only refuge is vice or the morgue.