The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1880-11-20
a Page In the Book OF Life.


Some griefs gnaw deep some woes hard TO bear,
Who knows The past; and who can judge Us right?
An article appeared in ono Of the Sun
day papers few weeks ago, which
proved most delicious sauce piquante
to tho afternoon meal of many of our
citizens, chronicling, among other
things, one of our local events-the de-
mise of an unfortunate lady who loved
"not wisely, but too we'll"
Alas! since then this little burg has
been the scene of even a sadder story.
Surely, if mans inhumauity to man
makes countless thousands mourn, then
mans cruelty to woman must make the
angels weep.
About three years ago, young lady of
our town became engaged to a trades
man of good family, but dissolute habits.
Trusting to tho.power of woman's love to
reclaim him from the downward paths to
which he seemed fastening, the marriage
was contaminated.
For few months all went well; then,
just when new solemn hope dawned i'll
tho young wife's heart, the old habits re-
asserted themselves, stronger for their
temporary suppression.
But who can fathom the depths of
woman's lovei Weakened by privation
and neglect, humiliated by abuse, Hope,
that pearl i'll sorrows cup, was still her
guiding star.
Alas why continues Let kindly char
ity cover up the long years Of labor
and hardship which have interviewed be-
tween then and now. Years during
which she solicited work from door to
door, that she might earn the where
withal to support, not only the drunken
husband, but the little ones who had
been the only CLEAN of sunshine in her
dcsolato life the little ones whose birth
she had looked forward to, hoping that
the prattle Of baby voices might turn the
erring father back, that tiny baby hands
might point the way to uprighteousness
and integrity.
This hope proved as fallacious as the
others that had blossomed in her heart,
and one day she unhappy woman awak-
ened to the knowledge that one of her
treasures was fading with the flowers.
Then began the terrible battle between
poverty and love. All day she labored
and toiled, all night she spent beside the
bedside of her darling, soothing the pain
tossed form, cooling the parched lips,
and listening with breaking heart to the
approaching footsteps of the dark Angel
of Death.
All, we'll! the end came all too soon,
and one more was added to the bright
galaxy of heaven. There she lay, hushed
i'll an awful stiffness, the curved lips just
parted in smile, as if the spirit Of the
child still lowered near. Kind friends
had rSbed the little form as if it slept,
and hid within the stilled hands sweet
flowers, those forget-lne-nots of the
angels, fit emblems of the little life
which, like them, bloomed but to die.
And while the mother knelt beside this
precious darling of her heart, the father,
naddened by drink, rceled in, and, re-
gardless of her sorrow, unawed by the
presence Of the awful majesty Of death,
inflicted merciiess castigation upon
the brokon- hearted, unhappy woman.
This, in i country whore men organize
themselves into societies for the preven-
ton of cruelty to animals, forgetting
that higher order of animals of whose
sex their mothers are.
Who can blame her for the fnalef The
crushed spirit rebelled at last, and with
the one little one left her, the mother
fled.
All, friends, who deserves the, most
pity: she who, with the little one that
never saw The light, passed into paths
Of glory, or the one who, with her baby
at her breast, goes enveloped in tho shad-
ow of mighty sorrow, friendless and
alone, into the heart Of great city,
there to take up the burden of life, and
fight it to the bitter end IL
PENELOPE.