Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.Various
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
The farm-house people promised a cart, if the party could wait till it
came by.
"How could such a thing happen?" said the lady. "Is there no one to
teach this man his duty better than this? Does he know the clergyman?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Sally, adding very simply, "but there would be no use
in the clergyman speaking to him now, he would not understand."
"No, indeed," replied the lady. "But he will feel ill enough to-morrow,
and then I hope somebody that he respects will speak to him in a way
that he will remember."
"To think," she said to her companions, as they walked away past the
cistern where the groveling bridegroom was undergoing his ducking, "that
that is the creature whom the poor girl bound herself this morning to
love, cherish, and obey! What a beginning of the cherishing!"
Fell and his wife had not expected the young people home early; but it
was much later than the latest time they had fixed, before they heard
any thing of them. When at last the party appeared, emerging from the
night mist, all the three sober ones were dreadfully weary. The ascent
had been terrible; for Raven had not yet begun to recover.
No fine sentiment was wasted upon the occasion; for the indifference
which had rather shocked the ladies, was the real state of mind of
people too much accustomed to the spectacle of intemperance. Mrs. Fell
declared she was vexed with him--that she was; and then she put on her
bedgown, in order to sit up with her daughter, for Raven was now so sick
that he must be waited on all night. Mrs. Fell said repeatedly, as so
often before, that all men were apt to take too much now and then; and
it would happen less often now he had come to live up here. Yet, her
husband's words would run in her head, that it was all right, and very
pleasant. When, in the dawn of the morning, her daughter made her go to
bed, she dropped asleep with those words in her ears; while poor Janet,
chilly, sick at heart, and worn out, was at length melting into tears.
When, the next afternoon, her husband sat nursing his aching head beside
the fire-place, he was struck with some compunction at the sight of her
red eyes. Of course, he declared, as drunkards always do, it should
never happen again. Of course, he laid the blame, as drunkards always
do, on other people. Of course, he said, as drunkards always do, that it
was no habit of his; and that this was an accident--for once and away.
Of course, his wife believed him, as young wives always do.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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