The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1877-1885, 1879-07-31
The Wifo'S Bitter Life

N"1h Xix huuloCI
OF the body. 1t is not numbered among
the crimes OF which the highest civilization
takes cognizance. No one who is guilty of
1t Is arraigned before an earthly tribunal.
Distinguishing the light of this life and the
hopes of the world to come, it il the most
heinous of offences, whether committed by
the woman who bctrays her husband, or bv
the husband who, for any reason, neglects
or deserts his wife. Tie woman suffers
more than the man. They who are WORTH.
est Of happiness feel misery most keenly.
The man has distractions which the woman
has not. When the blessedness of a happy
home is denied her, there is nothing left
but to die by inches, praying for the end
that is so sadly long in coming. Rarely
the victim leaves behind her a mirror in
which can be traced each tear and every
pang This is found, however, in the diary
of the haplees wife who died a violent death
by her own hand in New York last
Monday.
The first entry in the diary is dated Sep
tember 1, and refers to the year 1873: My
''old diary is full. | am sorry. l like old
things, old friends, old associations. l
''think these little memoranda make, and
''help us to lead, better lives. AT the end
cot the week, when | read over your
''pages. | am ashamed of my short comings.
''and make good resolutions for the fu-
.~'ture." She had been married some years,
and coming anguish cast its shadow over
her. Il do not feel quite happy. think
81 am alone so much it makes me gloomy"
A week later: 81 have ceased TO look for
him till he comes. When l ask him
''where he has been his excuses are SO lame
land absurd that | am ashamed to repeat
chem to you, my little book. God help
sine, how my heart aches" On the 10th
of September her husband came home.
''He said he hated me, and hated his
''home, and be wished that l were dead.
"God help mel 1 acish so too" But the
wemanly heart has not yet lost all hope.
On September &c she writes: ''He came
home at s O'Clock this morning, and when
81 threw my arms around his neck and
''begged him to love me and not neglect
''me SO. he pushed me away and said that
sit was none of my business where he went
cor what be did, as long as he supported
''me. Oh, ny husband! is hts all a wJe
scan clam ? Means to sustain life, and
'.uch an unloved life Oh! how l long
sfor the peaceful sleep that knows no
waking" The clouds gather. Early in
October she writes: ''Why does my heart
''still cling to this man after all his abuse ?
81 think he must hare been good once, or l
''should nerer hare loceI him. | saw him
''cry once over a little dog we had hat was
poisoned, and | thought he had such a
good heart, and yet he can say such cruel
"hard things to me, his innOcert wife. at
seems as though God lad PIT dotn HIS
great hand, and wiped ont ny Ite."
Still she longs for her husbands return.
On January 6, 1879, he spoke kindly to her
when he came. The remembrance of the
one kind word cheered her wonderfully,
and the next day she went out and bought
him a scarf that she thought he would like.
Everything she did reminded her Of her
husband. She sold her library because she
could not open a book without thinking Of
him. She went to the theatre to Sc .JMue
Eyre, but she had seen it before with
him, and the remembrance made
her unhappy. Before the end of
the month, convinced that she had lost
his love, she put a pistol TO her head and
fired. The wound was not mortal. II
''still live and ought to be thankful, but /
do not think that l am" Her husband
was affected somewhat, for she tells Of his
being with her day after day. The dream
Of happiness was short-lived. On April l3.
she writes: 1T is ended and | shall see him
mo more. / hare buried him us much as
'hOuqh 1 had seen the coBin iii scTetred
'Tdoun, and the sod piled on has grate.'
This was the last entry in the first volume
of the diary. On beginning the second
volume, on April 20, 1879, she wrote:
"WelI, again my diary is filled, and Oh
chow sad are its records There has not
''been one ray of sunshine to tell to its sad
pages. OIL cun 1t be that the heart can
s.stand so much and not bredk? | have seen
s.him but twice since the 18th ard it is
.'better so. Oh why should my heart
''cling to this man 50? Oh, God, tear his
Image from my heart and give me peace Of
mind. God forgive you, William, if you
''drive me to my death, for you have much
need to pray" The last entry is made in
June 22d and has this passage: "lthink my
thine is short mere; at any rate do not
''mean to stay in a world in which for one
''whole year, at least, have not seen one
ssbsppv moment. | Cannot even asleep TO
ssat peace. My dreams are troubled with
s'my sorrow. l often monder # my spirit can
.rest after daM. Oh, Will, my husband,
.tvou have wrecked my life But | forgive