The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1878-09-19

Portland?"
"And keep you worried out Of your
wits lest he'll escape and return? No,
little woman; Wen manage better than
that"
So it was arranged that my friends
should talk the prospect Of a journey
over with Gerald on the morrow,
though it would be necessary to deceive
him as to his destination; for, like all
crazy people, be had a horror Of hospi-
tails for the insane.
"Wouldn't you like 10 take a farewell
look at dear old England ?i asked Nal
colin Graeme, who ventured to open
Geralds door and approach him only
after his long night of horror had left
him as limp and helpless as an infant.
81 have no money" he whined, 10 re-
ply. "Pve never been appreciated by
my family, nor cared for as l ought to
have been. Ethel hasn't a particle Of
respect for me, and the young ones take
sides with her. That womau's been
the bane Of my existence"
"I see" said my kinsman; "and
we'll get you out Of her presence if you'll
only 60"
"But she won't let me have money!
"Never mind. Fll see after the
funds. You Just make up your mind to
go, and you shall be provided for. You
need the journey for your health, you
know"
And thus il was settled that Gerald
should 60. Then I repaired to a we'll
/ known dry-goods and furnishing house
and provided him with ample clothes
for a lifetime, in promise of payment for
which I could not give my note, for !
was a married woman, and my self-in-
dorsed paper would not be worth its
price when undefaced by a signature.
But I gave my woman's word that ]
would liquidate the debt as fast as l
could earn the means, and I thus PRO-
vided for the bodily comfort Of my
head, protector, representative and law
giyer.
When Malcolm Graeme and Mr..
Motley left my house in company with
Gerald, my husband, gave them the
last dollar in my possession for his ben
eft, and I watched them bear him away
with a feeling in my breast akin to that
with which I had resigned poor,
crippled, life-thwarted Gerald, my son,
to the deep shadows Of the somber Wild
wood and the silent bosom Of our
mother earth.
In a few weeks my friends returned,
having made the necessary arrange
meuts for the Instrumentation Of Ger
aid, my husband, in the California
state asylum for the insane, and have
regularly remittei the required monthly
stipend to sustain him there from thar
. time to the present.
And now, good reader, you who have
followed me through the torturous
windiugs Of my matrimonial voyage, or
sympathized with me when stranded in
the breakers Of human law and human
injustice, I am about to bid you fare
we'll.
Is il necessary for me to add further
moralizing to this, my DER true tale
Have you not learned, through my ex-
perience, the fearful injustice which
may, aud, for aught you know, be
meted to your own daughter, should sh,
be married to a man who will not hesi
e tate to use the power over her which the
law unquestioniugly places in bis
20 hands
. am feeble now, and well advanced il
years; but am still a cook, a scullion
e and chambermaid. The times are no
j. flush as they were when I was young
s and have lost the elasticity, strength
=. and ambition that once led me to TAX
n risks and make them successful, so
% shall always be poor
There is still much vacant LAM
d within a days travel Of my villag
:, home; but, much as ] should like to Sc
y cure a homestead as a means Of supper
}, for my declining years, I cannot do il
y because I am a wife. And ! could no
now obtain a divorce il should ask il
d because my husband has been adjudge
insane.
j. Dr. Suydenham died at my house re
n Gently. On his death-bed he gave me
y letter from his sou, Cyrus, which h
said he had been commissioned TO Civ
ct to me if he should ever find me free.
I put the letter in the cooking-stov
is as soon as 1 had read it, and am sirivin
e, to forget its contents.
All, me,
1 sometimes wonder whether the tim
will ever come in the great hereafte
that men and women, redeemed fror
the dross Of earthly existence, can fin
he that perfect conjugal unity which is S
often denied them in this life. An
yet, good reader, am not unhappy.
have had many blessings, and some
them have been exceedingly choiC
ones. And, as I take my leave OF yor
nit beg that you will not commiserate %
ht. lot. l 10 not want your pity. shoul
th feel humiliated il you should profIer /
ill But do ask you, in the name Of ripl
and justice, and for the sake of comi,
q? generations Of the sous and daughters
we women, to give yourselves no rest unt
tyranny, the arch-enemy Of humapit
en- shall be shOrn Of his strength. a,
woman, made free aud equal with m,
rat before the law, shall stand forth as {
sat arbiter of her own destiny, and beeon