Year: 1859

more miserable man is not to be found in
these parts"


In what regard ?"


my wife is dumb" he almost sobbed in
answer to my question.


Dumbl" l repeated and, thinking to
rally him, said in jocular manner, Well,
that is very singular thing to be sad for !;
I know many husbands who would be too
happy to have such calamity happen to
them. Burns says, AN auld wife's tongues
a RECKLESS NATTER and there's no conten-
tion in a house where perpetual silence is
the bond of unity!"


saw that he was hurt, and hastened to
remedy the evil that had done. Taking
him by the hand, l said:


"Tim, 1 assure you that would not
wound your feelings, willingly. I am no less
your friend than ever was. Now, wish
you to tell me the cause Of your trouble that
l may share it with you, or possibly allevi-
ate it."


He hesitated a few moments, and then
said, with considerable emotion


Well, Burner, old friendship is stirring
within me, and I shall do at its prompting
that which l thought nothing could wiring
from me. You remember how happy I
was. There was not man in the world,
who had more friends, true friends, than l
had. My home was happy one-my wife
pleasant, my children handsome and intelli-
gent. You have never seen my wife, Bur-
ner ?"


My name, in the connection, sounded like
an imprecation upon bis wife, and the Bur.
ner wrathful expletive- burn her," Son.
ers continued:


"When we moved up here things went on
in pretty much the same pleasant way until
there came to the village lady whom had
formerly known, and about whom and me
there had been little gossip in old days.
Our acquaintance was renewed, and visited
her several times made no cOncealment of
my intimacy with her, and invited my wife
to accompany me, but she declined. She
wished to make no new acquaintance, she
said. There was frequent visitor at my
house-a relative of my wifes-who poi
soned her ears with suspicious that it was
not right between Mary Brennon and my
self. She repeated the old gossip with
additions, spoke of my visits to Miss Bren-
non, and limited at criminalitY, as that mas
tyminded class always will who, having
small virtues of their own, and depraved
fancies, conjure up impure conceits regard
ing their neighbors, imputing lasciviousness
and wrong where the strictest purity might
not see occasion to blush. Twas returning
home one summer evening on foot, having
spent the day in business at town few
miles from this, when, by strange chance,
a short distance from town l met Miss
Brennon. 1t was pure accident that brought
US together, and she turned back with me,
taking my arm. We walked slowly, as the
weather was warm, and stopped moment
on the rustic bridge yonder to look down
into the stream and say few pleasant
words about old times. 1 saw some one
pass by US as we stood there, but was indif.
ferent as to whom it might be, and bidding
my companion goodbye, I went home, as
happy as lord in anticipation of meeting
the ones there that loved so well. I met
with cold reception. My bane was sit
ting with my wife in counsel, and 1 read
judgment on the face that had too many
times lately turned unkindly towards me.


$50 you've come, Mr.. Hypocrite, have
you ?" was the first salutation.


Certainly, my dear, have come," l
replied, " though can scarcely see reason
for the application of the name to me.''


"You cannot! you have just left that
vile creature on whose account and in
whose company you have all day been ab-
sent from your home You cannot"


81 have been away all day on business"
said l, as calm as Socrates. al was re-
turning home and encountered Miss Bren-
non. We walked together little way, and
then left for my pleasant home, and GER
tainly did not expect such a reception"


"You did not" said she sneeringy "but
you are found out, sir. You stood upon
the bridge with your arm around the strum-
pets waist and kissed her!''


felt aroused at this. I can bear any
attack upon myself, but the reflection upon
Miss Brennon was too much for me, who
knew her pure character and exalted worth.


1T is falsehood !" 1 shouted, "and your
informant is malicious and malignant
falsifer ]"


The relative gathered herself up to 60,
but before she went gave her lesson on
lying and tale bearing that she has not for.
gotten yet. She has never crossed my door
since. AS soon as she was gone 1 turned to
my wife and said:


GAS for you, madam, if you cannot make
better use of your tongue, you had better
never speak again."


was heated, in passion, and scarcely
knew what said, but the unkind words
entered into her soul. left the house, and
did not return for long time. I found her
calmly and undisturbedly sitting where
left her, but she spoke not. She arose and
performed such duties as were required ol
her, but she did not speak. In vain ad
dressed her she made no reply. grew
alarmed. I begged her to speak to me. II
has continued thus ever since. Not one