Cheyenne transporter. [volume] (Darlington, Indian Terr.) 1879-1886, 1883-05-10

absorbed in the contemplation of his
own attainments and of the utter out
of-iointedness of the times which he
considered himself born to set right,
that he had no time to pay proper at
tention to the sweet, loving woman by
bis side, passionately yearning for the
sympathy which is the very essence of
the life of a true wife. She gave him
everything, and he gave her nothing in
exchange. Let us turn from that June
day in 1884 to another in October, 1855.
Jane Welsh then writes in her diary:
To-day post brought n letter from
Geraldine, inclosing another from Lady
C de b., whom she is staying with,
inviting me to O. hall. |
had TO write refusal, however. Mr..
G.. is neither TO hold nor to bind when
make new visiting acquaintances on
my own basis, however unexceptionablc
the person may be. The evening de-
voting to mending Mr.. C.'s trousers,
among other things. Being an only
child | never wished to sew mems
trousers-no, neverw There is surely
no harm in wife's mending or making
her husbands apparel. In Hogarth's
touching print of the DISTRESSED Poet"
the poets wife is busily cobbling her
husbands small clothes. But they are
in a garret, miserably poor. The chill
dren are crying for bread, and the milk
maid is dunning for payment for her
score. Meanwhile the poor, penniless
bard is tagging hard at dedication,
perhaps, TO his poems; and when his
book is printed my lord possibly will
reward him with score of gold pieces.
A glance at the pair is enough to show
that the woman, with n sweet, trusting
face, has worthy helpmate, and that
love and sympathy as well as the pre-
carious guerdon are fully shared in this
garret. Jane Welsh at Chelsea busted
over her husbands garments while
he was obscure, while he was needy
would be charming to contemplate;
but that such drudgery should be the
lot of the wife of q man cleared, ad-
mired, and reverenced," who had long
since achieved fame, and who in 1855
was acquiring wealth, is painful and
shameful anomaly. When the poor
woman penned in bitter irony those
words about the "only child" mending
mems trousers, her very heart was
breaking. Thomas Carlyle had become
the intimate and companion of the
noblest in the land. His wife had mar
ried him against the advice of her
friends, to be the life-partner of pei
son "whom she, and she alone, at that
time, believed to be destined for some
thing extraordinary" She had worked
for him like servant. She had borne,
unmurmuringly, poverty and suffering.
She had endured his humors, which
were often extremely trying. But now,
when his renown was firmly established,
"she had become what, in an earlier
letter, she had said she dreaded that
she might be, "a mere accident of his
lot. When he was absorbed in his
work she saw but little Of him. The
work was a sufficient explanation as
long as others were no better off than
she was. But when she found that he
had leisure for Bath house, though none
for her, she became jealous and irri-
table" Let the unhappy Jane Welsh
speak for herself. That eternal Bath
house," she writes in her dairy. /
wonder how many thousand miles Mr..
G. has walked between there and here.
Nov. 6. Mended Mr.. C's dressing-gown.
Much movement under the free sky is
needful for me TO keep my heart from
throbbing up into my head and mad
denlng it. They must be comfortable
people who have leisure to think about
going to heavent My most constant
and pressing anxiety is to keep out of
Bedlam-thats ALL Nov.
Dear, dear What a sick day this
has been with mel Oh, my.mother!
nobody sees when am suffering now,
and l have learned to suffer all to my
self ~ NOnlY q WOman's hairn Wns