Year: 1866




? been fond of lunatics; have never met
J among them stupid or bad man. Twas
, shown into tidy cell, occupied oy a ht'
, tie old man, bent over desk. and Wrl-
, ting with his finger on the board with IN
: expressible rapidity. He rose tlmldly,
twirling his fingers. He was at least six
, ty years old, but occasionally did not
seem to be above fifteen. His white, al
most blonde hair fell in childlike curls,
: and his sweet face, smiling and uneasy,
, wore the expression of infants when they
weep and laugh at the same time. New
ertheless, one could detect profound
= grief, trembling agony, in his dilated
!, eyes, which wore the fixed expression of
madness and despair. My attendant
made a gesture, and the poor old man re-


sumed his seat with extravagant delight,


and began to write as fast as ever he
could. Then, seated il a corner of the


cell in front of the old man, my attend


dant told me the unhappy creatures his


tory. Some forty or more years-ago there


lived in a small town named st. R, a
young orphan. She was intellectual,


wealthy, beautiful. Every unmarried man


of the province was at her feet, his eyes


fixed on her fortune. She was so hatter-
ed, so aduIated, so complimented, her


gorge would rise at night when upon 60


ing to bed she would think of the suitor


forced upon her during the day. At last


such was the nausea she experienced, she


resolved to give her hand and all it con-
tanned to "a promising young man" !"
who would give her in affection and rep


utation a substantial exchange for the
| beauty and estate she gave him. There


was at that time in her town prodigy of


eighteen, who had rhymed from his in
| fancy-had lisped in numbers" He


had already written many a fable, TRACE


dY, sonnet and epic, and the whole prov


ince firmly believed that ne would bloom


into great genius.


| She married this prodigy that no mate


rial obstruction might delay his progress


on the road to fame. She brought him


up to Paris, and so planted him in


wealth's hot house to force him to bear
fruit Strange and inexpressible fatality!
unheard of catastrophei The poet bore


no fruit He had charming study; it
was nothing but bronze and black mar.
| BILE. He lived in most favorable quiet
He knew nothing of the thorns OF life.
And after all he rhymed as he rhymed
when he was fifteen, mere doggerel, ut at
best for the confectioner's kiss. He was
the best little husband that ever was
seen-gentle and timid, amiable and Ia
borious. She was the best little wife that
ever was seen, conciliating and encourag-
ing, extremely tolerant, and of an invarl-
able good humor. Nevertheless, by de-
grees, she became irritable. He became
ashamed of himself. Every morning he
would lock himself up in his study, write


madly, blot quire after quire of paper,
read it over, and in despair confessed it
was not worth the ink it was written
in.


Every evening she would come, her
heart throbbing with anxiety, to see if
some good lines had at last made their
appearance. She would question the pO-
ct, who every day hung his head lower
At last impotence and disdain appeared;
she could not long check their outbreak;
she upbraided her husband for defrauding
her, because in return for her money aid
beauty he had not given her genius.


After this scene matters went from bad
to worse. The husband became child
scolded by his wife. He lived in state
of constant uneasiness. eternal shame
He lived blushing and trembling; his
heart was wrung by all the tortures of the
impOtent artist and insolyent man. He
suffered the torments of the damned by
the side of the woman he had robbed, $50
she said) and whose only sentiment for
him now was disdainful pity. So long as
that woman had not abandoned all hope
of seeing her husband bloom into a geni-
US, she chained him to his writing desk,
and made him write given number of
lines every day before dinner. The un-
happy man addressed himself to his task,
and daily wrote worse. Twas an hourly
battle between them of contempt and
pain. She laughed disdainfully, He
shivered with fear and anguish.


He had spent g, 500 of her money in
attempting to become great poet. This
was his CALLED wlthers. One morning he
refused to do his daily task, set him every
morning by his wife. He had found in
the office of some joint stock company a
copying clerks place, with salary -
of $50, and henceforward he began to
paw his debt to his wife. He lived under
the same roof with her, but he paid rent
for his room he took his solitary meals
in restaurant whose price was fourteen
sous; he dressed himself with his own
money, and nevertheless managed to pay
his wife a considerable amount of money
annually in payment of his debt to her.
He lived in this way above thirty years,
silent and uneasy, stunning every eye,
and blushing suddenly when no one was
locking.


His sole pleasure was tc consult little
bank book wherin ne recorded the mon
ey he had paid to his wife in extinguish-
ment of his debt. His wife, seized by
pity, by love perhaps, for this great baby,
so pure and so young, despite his years,
tried to refuse his money and win back
to herself the poor heart she had shatter-
ed to pieces. Her weak will-leSs husband
refused with energy. He would listen to
nothing. Work he would to pay off his
wife. lie copied letters. He made out
bills. When his employer suggested adj
Vancement and an increase of pay, ne
would blush and beseech them to take
pity on him and not jeer his want of in
tellect. He was cFazy-one of those
harmless insanities akin to the mania for
collecting old pipes, old snuff boxes and
the like.


The day when he saw from his blank
book that he owed his wife nothing, he
became furiously insane. He made SOM
ersaults, he danced, he walked on his
hands, he wrote a sonnet and an eulogy.
1t became necessary 10 lock him up in an
insane asylum. His insanity is intermit-
tent. He remains whole weeks together,
writing with his fingers on the board of
his desk, and occasionally adding, ,togeth-
er imaginary sums. Then on the day
when he believes he has obtained the de-
sired SUN total, ne gives way to unbound
ed Joy, which he exhibits by bowling and
leaping like some wild beast.


If you can read that poor wretch's
tale without feeling your blood and mar
row freeze, you are made of sterner stuff
than l am.


A western correspondent says: In
district in the far West we had gentle
man teacher who thought it. advisable t.
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