The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1893-11-14

SSss6gSZa%QA purest and truest
's7 that had ever en-
tered my heart.
How could 1 know that she was SO
tender~he hearted, SO over-sensitive that
the least breath of coldness would
sweep over her like gale from Arctic
seas. parching, killing the very life
within her heart? We men so seldom
understand a womau's nature We
Judge them all by our own standards;
we make no allowance for the differ
ence in natures; we are like giants
trampling upon a dainty flower bed;
leaving devastation in our paths. l
thought / understood her, my poor
little Augustine; but now, looking
back upon that time, / marvel at my
own blind stupidity.
-''TrIple fool In my blind folly purblnd and
Thinking to move the world, who could not
myself stand hrm!"
/ did not dream of the depths which
lay below the surface in that tender,
loving heart. looked upon her with
D sort of pity. because she was SO gen.
tie and tender. SO loving and timid,
and little did dream of the capacity
Tor suffering which lay hidden within
her innocent breast.
This is not an exciting story; it is
tell it, with hope that some other
man may read it, some man with the
Dverbearing arrogance of the average
male creature, and will pause and re-
Gect upon his own course. To such l
would say, Beware! The day may
come when you, too, NAV stand alone
and desolate. When your head may
be bowed in bitter anguish-mad, un-
evailing grief! Beware how you deal
S@th q woman's heart-a woman's af-
6ection; a good, pure, noble woman.
For God gives many gifts to mankind,
but none SO priceless as a good
Woman's true love-"
But had all this to learn, as most
lessons in life are learned, by stern,
bitter experience.
Augustine had promised to be my
wife, and / was happy-happier than
have ever been since, for | had not
grown SO cold and arrogant then as in
. later DAYS. think there is a devil
s familiar demon, in every mans
breast In mine, the evil spirit was
chiefly pride-foolish, self-conceited
pride. It passes my understanding
(now. looking back upon the past) of
what has any mortal the right to be
proud and vain-glorious? Obi how
she loved ME, poor little thingl She
~Onld sit upon a low stool at my feet
and look up into my face with her
grave, sad eyes, with such deathless
1oVe-4uch longing tenderness within
their dep his, that it touched me be-
yond expression, and at the same
time, doubtless, fed the fame of my
mad self esteem. A woman makes a
grave mistake who allows a man to
/ sound the depths of the love within
her heart-to let him read its pure
white pages like an open book.
Too soon he learns his power
and few men are generous
enough to res st the temptation to
WELD that power like rod of iron.
It has been said that ''our pleasant
vices ofttimes become whips of scor-
pions to scourge US to DEATH sc
sometimes a woman'S love, when Law
tshed upon man, self-cOnhdent,
worldly-selfish, as most men are, be
comes in rash, cruel hands, an in stru-
ment of torture, which torments heI
into her grave And men are so prone
to consider a woman's love deathlcss.
Not their own-oh, no! that is ex.
pected to pine away and die in time
but hers must be perennial, ever
blooming, immortal. And yet l have
seen a woman's love die-die slow
lingering death; fade, and perish, and
decay. And for dead .ove there is nc
resurrection
There's no me- earth life for the dead,
No gathering up the tears once she'd
And so it is with woman's love
though, then, l was 10th to believe it
''It will live forever" l had alway:
believed, and yet was fated to learn
that
Not dew, nor sunshine nor summer ram,
Can call lost love back 10 life again
The day came when Augustine stooC
at My side before Gods altar, ant
took upon her the solemn vows which
she kept-conscientious truly.
like many men, kept them in the let
ter but not the spirit.
She was mine at last, mine f'to nav,
and to hold till death do us part
The honeymoon was like most othe
honeymoons-and then life merge,
into tie commonplace. 1t grew irl1
some to me-the long davs away a
my Office desk-to return to our littl
home, and stagnation.
My ective spirit chafed within me
and longed for change
Home life palled upon me- l grew
horribly tired of it all Yet, my HON,
was a pretty one, and its presiding
angel kept it like a small palace o
neatness and beauty. l must have
been brute not to have appreciates
the wondrous blessings which wer
mine; but longed in secret for tn,
old liberty and freedon--the congenia
Spirits-the club and the race-course
Had Augustine only asserted her
eelf. and been more firm with me.
might have reformed and in tim
grown quiet and contented. But il
her sweetness and self abnegation, sh
Lived only for my happiness, an,
would have emulated the poetess re
Gently deceased, who expressed he
own willingness to make a door-ma
~ hna.aalH fnr. Iha Oh ll,rrnLfya