National Republican., 1883-05-07

the coming winter or the depth of the snow,
all these and the like were Of no use now
UNcoNGENrALITY.
If the shrewd and sharp lawyers who bull
lied and beat mo had come into my ele-
ments had beaten them But had chosen
to enter theirs and must be equal to the un-
dertaking. And so it was l worked aud
studied rs never man worked and studied
before. Often l never left my office till the
gray dawn, after day of toll and night of
study. My health gavo way and / was in
deed old and thoughtful. Well, all this,
you can sec, did not suit the merry-hearted
and spoiled child of the mines at all. Then
she was not so ambitious as was; then she
had not such strange, wild life behind to
haunt her. She became tho spoiled child
here that she had been at her fathers and
naturally grew impatient at my persistent
toll and study. But she was good all the
time good, and honest and true in all things
and in all ways understand that distinctly
And let mo say here, onco for all, that no
man or woman can put finger on any stain
in this woman's whole record Of life, 80 far
MS truth and purity 60. But sho was not
happy here. Impatient of the dull monotony
Of the exhausted mining camp and longing
for the sea aud the old homo that almost
overhung the sounding waters, she took her
two children and returned to her mother,
while l sold tho little home we had built
and kept together, the new orchard and the
lanes of roses we had planted together, and
remained there in the camp, promising TO
follow her, yet full of ambition now to be
elected to q place on the supreme bench Of
the state, and remained and worked on to
that end ceaselessly.
SUED FOR A DIVORCE.
She had been absent from me quite year
when the convention was called and / went
to Portland, seeking tho nomination for the
place desired. But tho poor, inpatient lady,
impulsve always and angry that j should
have kept so long away, had forwarded papers
from her home, hundreds of miles remote, TO
a lawyer here, praying for a divorce. This so
put me to shame that ] abandoned my plans
and in rage and disappointment formed a coll
fusion with her lawyer to give her pretense
of that which she professed to desire. Yet, l
knew quite well that this was only romantic
and foolish freak that meant nothing How
often she has written me that she did this only
in order TO get me to come TO her, and that she
did not dream she could be divorced unless
came TO her when the action was brought.
Nor could she in fact, But court was in
session, and her lawyer who looked to me
only for his fec, entered the case and in about
the time 1t takes to write it the sham decree
was announced to tho world, while was sail
ing away for other lands.
Of course the whole pitiful proceeding was
us nothing; but her lawyer. now dead, got his
fee from me, and never betrayed the treachery
to her. And it was perhaps quite ten years
before she by chance met some one who told
her the truth. She had married, but az once
left all and came to me here.
DOWN IN THE WORLD.
had not been greatly fortunate at best. A
few thousand dollars / had thrown up as a
wall between myself and work, but ] had
grown SO impatient of this moderate position
in life and l SO wanted to get great fortune
IN IN hot I al a.,
staked all in Wall street, and of course lost
all. i, beaten and discouraged and broken in
health, had retreated to a garret and was
then again preparing to use my pen, when
one stormy night strange woman crept up
my stairs and told me in wild whisper that
my wife, Minnie MYRTLE" was in the city
and must see me. And how helpless l was to
help her or any one now. / had seen her
form but once for nearly dozen years. And
such years! Let me not recte any of
the horrors they hold in this connec-
tion and yet l heard from her all the
time, and while she wrote against me and
lectured about mo and did all that made my
life so miserable, she did not really mean my
ruin; but thinking me strong and prosperous
and happy, she exhausted her wit and sar-
casm on me and laughed that she might not
weep. But in time she drove me nearly mad
and left the country and proposed never to
return. My publishers, Roberts Bros, of
Boston, had sent her $50 month as regularly
as the months came all the time. She was
receiving that sum, and perhaps as much
more directly from myself, as | could spare it,
all the time l was in Europe; aud she re-
ceived these sums for years after her mar
riage. But the poor, spoiled child of Port
Oxford never quite got over her childish love
for wasteful follies and dress and show and
travel, and SO was forever pinched and in
debt.
FACE TO FACE AGAIN.
And now, having hastily passed over all
those terrible years, we come to tho closing
chapter of this singular life. l followed the
good woman who came to me that stormy
night in silence till we came at last to O little
back room in the top of house, with bed
in the center and doubtful fire struggling in
the crate, The good woman turned away
and left us in the room together, The place
was almost dark. She did not give me her
hand, but stood before me with one hand
holding on the bedpost, long time silent.
II have come to you at last" she said,
after awhile.
"You have come to drive me from the
country again"
II have come to you to die" she said. And
as she turned SO that the light was on her face
saw that it was SO. And then we sat down
and had long talk. 1t was our last talk II
was not very kind. God knows / am sorry
now. She wanted most of all to see her little
girl, whom had taken from her and placed
in the convent school in Canada three years
before, and 1t seemed to break her heart when
refused to send for her to come. BY and by,
however, when promised her that she should
surely SEQ her before she died, she became
reconciled.
She talked with calm unconcern about her
coming death, reminded me of my promise,
and told me she had brought me all her
papers; some that we had written together
before had learned to spell. There was |
valor, sweetness, too, and dignity, large |
charity In all she said and did now in the |
twilight of life that won all hearts to her en- |
tirely. My secrets she kept till the grave |
closed over her, and she never complained |
of anything or of any one, but was patient, |
resigned, and perfectly fearless and tranquil |
to the end, But the end was not |
SO near after all. Whom went back to see
her one day she had gone and had left no ]
word where she could be found. Then l |
began to fear and doubt her1 promise; the |
winter wore away and April came. Then
they came to tell me, from her, that she
was dying and must keep my promise. And |
sol arranged for. her child to come, and l |
went every day to assure her that she was |
coming and TO take her some flowers and |
whatever kind messages and encouragement |
could.
REUNITED BY DEATH.
YEARLY the days went by till away up in |
May, the month in which she was born. Then |
the child came, and the good people, the |
gentle, loving people who kept with her and |
cared for and loved apd pitied her in these |
last days, said 1t was like religion to see them |
together and that the dying woman in her |