Rensselaer Union, Volume 1, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 October 1868 — Miscellany. [ARTICLE]

Miscellany.

LUCY RUTHVEN’S WILL. lfltOM harpkk’s monthly. Possibly it was the east wind—yes! upon mature retrospective reflection "TTTcems an undoubted fact that it was the cast wind —that made* Air. Cl varies J. Ruthven so particularly low and uncomfortable that summer morning. Some persons arc peculiarly'scnsitive to its influences, and very probably he was, although neither himself nor his friends were aware of the fact before. Still that does not prove any.thing; he might have been so all his life, and never found it out, you know; as persons have been born with the sight of one eye only, and never discovered it Tttttrl middle life, and then only by accident. ..J 1_ ~ To he sure ho hdd po end to the vexations in his business the day before. He was engaged in an important law ease, involving .■) large amount of property, and the decision oLwliieli would go far to establish a precedent in regard to important buwhich just sniTOTt lrinr—no low, bog--gmdy; eTimintit a-ftairybnt ieal ijiicstioii of ethics. He had thrown himself into it “heart and soul,” as the saying is, and, we may add, body ami mind too; and he had been very sueccsstul; he had worked up tv vast amount of evidence upon it, and the chain was perfect, not a missing link ; ho Had been over it again, mid lie was clear and conclusive; and now, one of his most important witnesses had suddenly “backed down” in his testimony, in a material point of the evidence, at the last moment, and the work had all to be gone through .with again ! What wonder if he passed a restleois, sleepless, feverish night, •-nria was-ta-i? from hilarious whop lie came down to breakfast? His head ached, his hands trembled, lie had a general sense of lassitude, of dissatisfaction with himself and all the world—a physical irritability of skin artd brain, which it lined people are wont to term nervousness, but which, in the country, is sometimes aptly stud beibre, there was the east wind ! Still, Mr. Kuthven was a Christian and a. gentleman —a man of almost faultless temper in general, and it wwK.-icot Ids wont to annoy his wife and children with his business cares. Mrs. iluthven always said she believed he locked up his office cares when his ofiico key; but this mwiiifijg'ihe cotFeo was not so strong arid clear as usual, when his bond particularly needed it; the eggs were over-cooked, and the ham was not cooked enough. Ho asked for snjpked beef a substitute; it came at once ; but, cut in haste, it was not “a clean shave,’’ but cut almost in slices (of Vauxhnll-thinness to be sure); but who can eat dried beet* cut so ? Mr. Ruthven made no remark, but quietly put th,e offending dish from him; and when the children, who had bcemengngod in a playful discussion of their own, turned to him as umpire, he silenced them with such a long “Hu-sh-sh-sh !” so unusual from Iris lips that Charley lifted up his frank blue eyes iu iunooent wonder, and the more sensitive little Lucy dropped hers au&blushcd deeply, in the painful consciousness that she-had, in some unknown way, offended dear papa. But breaktast was over at last, and tho children left the room. “One moment, if you please, Charles,” said the pleasant little Mrs. Ruthven, gently detaining her husband as-he rose from tho table; -“t want you just to look over thes# bills, if you please, and let mo havo the money.” “My dear Luciila! moro bills?” “Yes, dear—l am sorry to say it—more bills; but tbeso are not very heavy onos.” * “Bat I thought wo paid off all the bills not a fortnight ago.” -• “So you did, Charles; but I suppose wo neither of us expected that would be the last of them ; weeds and bills will keep growing in spite of us, I believe, as long as we live; when we pay off our bills we ‘only 'Scotch the snake,~uot kill him,’ you Jchow.” “I suppose so/’ said Mr, Iluthven, languidly extending his hand to take ;the papers his wife holdout to him. ‘lWhat bills are they, Budilin ?” ’ “Principally IBr tlte children,” said Ruthven: “tltese two are their

school hills ; this is for Lucy’s music lessons; this is From Perkins & Ludlow for Charley’s new suit Of clothe*; aud these aro minutes pf what l have spent for Lucy’s sutumer outfit.” i Mr. Ruthven silently glanced at the amount of oaoii bill. “Seems to me, my dear,'these children grow more and more expensive ill their wants every year of otir lives.” “Of course they do,” lauglred the mother lightly; “it is to lie expected ; and I suppose tjiey will continue to; as they grow older their clopios aud their education'must, Of ooiwSe, be more and more expensive every year.” Now, really Mrs. Iluthven did not mean to be either unkind or unsympathizing ; sho was a warm-hearted little woman, devoted to her husband and children, whom she honestly be--1 loved to be very far in advance of all tho rest of their kind. But she was blessed with a strong, healthy organization, wholly free from dyspepsia, and ignorant of nerves; am] as to the influence of an east *wind, she would havo scoffed at it. She had passed a perfectly good night herself; how was she to guess all the household had not done the same? and, as her husband had not mentioned his headache to her, she did not dream lie was not as bright and well as usual. But now something in his tone struck her, and looking up, she saw that he was_paler than usual, and her kindly nature asserted itself at once. “No matter about the bills to-day, Charles,” sho said, pleasantly, as she reached out to take the*papers back again. “Another time will do just as well; there i? no hurry about the to-djuyr or f» r a month to come. Wait until it is convenient to yourself.” But Mr. liuthveu gently retained them. “•1 .suppose they may as well be met now as any other time,” he said. “Hut really, Luciila, these bills do .actim high. Do you not Cillfik iilaT suit of Charley’s was rather costly for a -littlo boy of Iris age ?” “Perhaps so,’’said his wife. “Yes, it does seem so; but you told me to have it made like those your brother Edward’s boys wore, and I did; theirs were made at the same place and of the same materials. AH goods arc high now, you know. I havo economized in Lucy’s clothing by having it made up in the house, and so I do some of Charley’s; but tiling’s run up unaccountably at the present prices ; but still, Charles, I -do not mean or wish to he extravagant, and 1 will retrench at once if you say that it is necessary, and will tell me in what direction you wish me to do it”—(she spoke gravely and tenderly now) —“only say if it shall be in their education, dress, or food, and I can easily economize, without any injury to them cither. Lucy can give up her music for the present, if you think best; and they need ’Uot go to dancing-school another term just now ; only believe mo, I did not for a moment imagine that retrench^ mont. was i l, ‘^‘ >uc desU Table. “No, no, Lueilla l T do not really suppose that it is. Do not, I beg of you, deprive yourself or tho children of any advantages or pleasures, and do not give yourself any uneasiness. I have got tho blues, 1 suppose; 1 have heard pf them, but I don’t think I ever had them before. There! I have got the bills ; do uot think a word more about them, and I will hand you the money in a day ortwo. Don’t say or think a word more about them; aud now good morning.” And shaking hands with his wife, Mr. Ruthven departed. He had nearly reached his office, deep in thought, when a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder, and he turned round to meet the kind and beaming face of one of the companions of Iris old college days. “Why, Ruthven!” said the newcomer, as lie wrung his friend’s hand warmly; “the very man 1 wanted to sop/; on my way dotvn to your otlice when I chanced to overtake you.” “Well, then, Carlisle, go to the office with rue now, will you ?” “Thauk you, my dear 1 fellow, no; not if you will give me an answer here. I really have not five minutes to spare. Y"ou see, we fellows of the old set, you know, are going to Q gct up a spree, as we used to do in tho days, or rating- nights, of ‘auld lang syne;’ a littlo cruise on tho water ; got a splendid yacht—a regular beauty too—and engaged a gem of a skipper, There’s Allard, and Tracy, and Dexter, and Cunningham,and half a dozen more, the very •creme de la creme' of pur old set.— Allard picked up a lot of ohoice old wine somewhere or other; got it for a song, too; and has got some cigars such as you never saw equaled}; and we aro going in for the. dolee —what do you call it —menle f and try to havo < a good timo generally! You will go with us, won’t you? Shall I tell tho boys they may count you 4n? Of course I may.” “I think-not,” said Ruthvon, hesitatingly. “I should bo delighted to join you—the very thing of all others I should enjoy—nut I oannot manage it just ,at present You must excuse mo.” ; * “Oh, pshaw! ye*you ean, if yo» will only think BO ; w v-can't excuse .. - ■’ •

you; and it will do.you good too. — Yori are overworking; I see you are. You look pale and Intellectual, and jail that, this veryinomqnt; 'walking slow and stately as Hamfet’s lwthor’a ghost when I overtook you, Conjp away from your cares for once, and enjoy tUp memory of old times. It won’t stand us jriqrc than fifty dollars apiece, I’ll engage, and we want you.” Mr 1 . lltithvCn thought of his cpnvcrsation witli his wife, and of tlie unpaid hills then in his pocket, aud his resolution grew stronger. “Come, say you’ll go, there’b a good fellow,” pleaded the cheery voice. “No! I can't, Walter; I wish I could; I api sure I should enjoy it; but iny business interferes.’* “Business be blamed! T don’t believe a word of it. It is all that little wifo and the chickabiddies—that's the business. And so I am to tell the boys yon won’t come ? And we hud all depupdciV upon you ; and there’ll he lots of fun. Old Hamden is going, and he is a host; and little Frazier, full of fun as a monkey! Well, I can’t help it, I suppose, but -Lam sorry. It’s very grand and stately to be the head of a family, I know, but I do not fancy having my wings clipped. Wife and children are fine things, and very good in their way, but I rather guess there are times when they are a good deal in their owner’s way too.” “I don’t agree to that, Carlisle. Mdko rny excuses to the boys, and a good time and a sate return to you alland the friends parted. As Mr. Ruthven pursued his walk alone his thoughts went out with the merry cruisers; and was it to be wondered at if, as he opened his office door and addressed himself to his morning’s work, a feeling of regret rose up in his mind, not that he was surrounded by family ties and cares, but that he could no longer with propriety loin in these meetings of the old friends of his bachelor days? a— • “Where is Lucy £ ” asked Mr. Ruthven, as he down to dinner, after a harassing morning’s work, aud noticed the vacant seat at the table. “Lucy is not quite wc! r ,” answered the mother. “Her teacher sent her home front school this morning with a very bad headache, and she is on the bed.” “Poor little thing! Not much sick, I hope?” “Oh no, I hope not; but sho is rather feverish, and I think you l ad better call, as you go down after dinner, and ask Dr. Bellingham to look in upon her. Lucy’s constitution is so delicate tliaTTam always- niore anxious when she is sick than about either of the others.” When Mr. Ruthven returned at night his wife met him; anxiously: “Where is the Doctor, Charles? lie has not been here, and I have been looking for him all tho afternoon and evening.- Wlug.uun be the rejison? Is ho out of town? .Dld.vau see hi my ourself?’’ Mr. Rutlivcri stood confounded.— “My dear Luciila, how shall I tell you? I forgot to call on him! How eoukl I have been so thoughtless?— H is true I have been hai asseil aud’ driven with my business all day, but that is no excuse at all-—not the shadow of one. My precious Lucy! how could I forget her? Is she worse, Luciila? ” Airs. Ruthven hesitated, unwilling to inflict pain pr add to her husband’s evident remorse. “She is not any better, dear,” she said; “sho is very feverish, and her mind wanders at times. I think you had better go for advice at once.” ' “I will—l will,” gasped penitent man; “aud Hod in grant that it may be in time! Oh, Luciila, hojp&hail I ever forgive mysolf if lfiy neglect should be visited upon my child, my darling one! ” “Do not look for the worst,” said his wife, soplhingly. “It may not prove to be much, after all; nurse and I ai-e both too easily alarmed, you know. \Vait and see what Dr. Bellingham Says when he sees her; only go and bring hiiuhero at once, if you canand MrsT Ruthven returned to her post by the sick-bed of her child. In a very short timo Mr. Ruthven and the Doctor joined her there, and a sad pang smote the heart Of tjie father as, standing by tho bed of his child, ho listened to her rapid, incoherent specoh, or turned from, her wild eyes and Hushed faco to the grave face of the friendly physician. Dr. Bellingham, who had known the little girl from her birth, at once pronounced it a case of typhus lever, and did not conceal from the parent* that the child was iu imminent danger. “Still,” he said, kindly, “littlo Lucy has tho benefit of youth and previpus good health on her side, aud every thing in tho way of position, as well as tiro most devoted care. All these must telL in her favor, and wo must do all we can, and hope for tho best.” After the Doctor hadleft thp house, and all his prescriptions had, been faithfully followed by the anxious and devoted mother and nurse, Mr*. Ruthven descended to the diningroom, where *ho found her husband sitting, with his fblded arms resting upon the table, and hii taco hidden upon them, wholly overcome by the

saddbii and terrible announcement. “Charles,” she said soothingly, ps she laid her own trembling haild uponit is shoulder, “is this right?’’ ' i) tfoo, Lucilla,7 ho replied,raising i hishoaddejcctedlyas he spoke. “It is not. It is Throng, all Wrong—), kiiow it; but I am so totally ml«c|-a----;blo. *, O>U, how can you ever forgivd me; how cau~l evtsr. forgivio myself for my eriniiual neglect V” . “Do you moah, dear, in not going earlier for tho Doctor?” .. i. “Of -flours© I do- Oh, how could Ibe so thoughtless? lam wretched wbou.l thiuk of it,” “I ilo,not sco that you havo any, need to be so. L know that your mind wak preoccupied with your business; perhaps I ouglrtnotto have asked you to go, but sent myself.— Besides, I did hot give ypu the idea that Lucy was very ilk; indeed I did not theu think so myself; vye oau not forseo events; and if on yqur return you had found the child bright and well again we should both have said: it waslortunate you had forgotten it, and laughed at my over-anxious fears. It is not right to judge by results: and even if wo allow you all the blame you seem disposed to take upon yourself, and say you did wrong not to go, still, I, (fpu not believe it has made any difference. Lucy undoubtedly had the fevor,upon her when she came home, and I do not believe, if Dr. Bellingham had chanced to bo iu the house then , he could or arrested ,it.” “God bless you, ,m’y dear wife, for these words ot comfort! Is this your real opinion ?” “Honestly, it is ; and now, to. go back to first principles. You, Charles, are a Christian, and- a belt eliever ; you acknowledge that all things are of God—that is your faith. You know and feel, then, that the life of our child is not in your hands, or iii mine, but in His who gave it. Can you for one moment dare to suppnae yaur tnviftl mistake Iras been suffered to interrupt the course of His providence? lie sees the end from the beginning, and uses the actions of liis human creatures as instruments to work out His own holy will. Think what it would be if it were otherwise, and every human life was at the mercy of every fellow being’s mistakes! It is one o,f the most merciful ordinations ..of God that wc can not look into the Future; and who of any common sense ever looked upon the Fast and, ((id not see how lie might have done better if lie had only known ? But that he was, for wise purposes, not permitted to do. Can you suppose auy oue even met with misfortune, or a bereavement, that did not feel ready to say; “Oil, if I had only done this or that, orhad forborne to do that or orjliis, all this might have been otherwise !’ And after all, wlmt does that amount to ? It seems to me the whole matter begins and ends here : The will of God—whatever it may be—is to be met and submitted to. Will you not rise up and meet it? YOU are the head of the house. You owe it to the cliildTen itntf ro infrfa J set an example of firmness and submission. My own burden is a heavy one (her voice grew tremulous and weak), and I need your support. Oh, Charles, my husband, will you tail metri tills hour of hitter trial ?” “No, no, Lucilla, I will not. I promiso you I will do my best to be firm and submissive; but it is so sudden. And then, if I could only help you, and bo of use to her, our darling! But it is torrible to sit here and feel lam so powerless.— You can bo everything to her, and I, her father, who loves her so fondly, can do nothing for her.” “And why not, Chnrlos ? Why not come and help us to tend ber ?” “Lucilla, because men aie so clumsy, so worse than useless in a sick-room.” • —— —- “Indeed yon mistake, Charles; that is an old popular error, which should.have been exploded long-ago; mon can, and do, make the best uurses In the world, if they will put their hearts into their work—they aro so Btrong, and patient, and tender. When I was a girl I had a rheumatic fever, and J remember evon yet the difference in comfort when my father or one of •rs moved me, lifting me }R strong armß ns it my weight was nothing at ail to them, and being lugged up by my well-meaning but clumsy narse. We must move Lucy now ; will you come up and help ns? If yon will lift her on to the conch, or* belter still, hold her in your arms and soothe her while we put fresh linen on her bed, it would really help us much moro than you can believe.” •-Certainly ; I wiH .gladly come ; and thank you, dear Lucilla, for suggesting it. If you could know what a relief it will be to me to make myself useful! am sure you would not spare either my time or my strongth.” From that time the father was established as one of the regular nurses by the sick-bed of the child, who seemed ip a certain sense to recognise him ; and evon in her wildest delirium his voice bad. power to cheek her ravings or soothe her irritability ; bis strong arms lifted her, his Bteady hand dropped thfr cine, and held it to the parched lips, his clear mind reoctved and romom* bored the Doctor’s duectionsjaud f wdh—ni

be took his patient turn,mb watcher by bedside whod the d,evoled •mothorliml fuitfiful nurse snatched their-short and needful moments of rest. Ab, that weary-hearted watching, when hope die# out, Lour by hour ! ( "Are thsrs no words for that common w*o? Ask of the thousands its depths that know. That which ont'fovo to the earth would Chain— Vasrlly sttvlng vs ith llenrpn jt| ruin — That which flits from us e’en while wc hold Clasped to our bosom its earthly monld, ( Was fading before liim'afar and fast.” And still he held by his .tuelfljngholy* watch ; and so the long, hot, weary summer days, and the close, sultry summer nights, rolled on and on; and at last there camo a timo when thejloctor said the fever find “rffiST its courso and the ernis whs passed. The lie.Trtoflhe father roso up in bounding joy and graifindo. “The fever was gono, the crisis post,” child still lived-r-what' more could ho ask*? for to his inexperience it was only a question of time and patience before her perfect restoration toTleujth and, strength. But the good Doctor looked grave, the mother troubled, and tho faith ful nurse anxious; for the little patient did not rally. Shp Jay. free from pain, and with restored consciousness 1 (and that wiiS much); but, ah! so weak; it seemed as if all lb* powers Cf her nature were sp prostrated by the fierce struggle she had gono through .that they could never rally as if, having fought and won the battle, shs must die of the vietoty. Still, it wys something to see her thuAy lying as she did iu a palm repose, a dreamy state wh(tb \xas neither sleep nor wakefulness, but a condition hovering closely upon the confines of each, yet rousing up from it ai a word, and answering with cloar comprehension. Was it indeed, to be ono of thoso sweet but melancholy cases we sometimes meet with, In which, “By imperceptible decay j The gentle victim* fade »*ny l Ever the same, day after day : sTet every month, and every week, The fading eye and ranken cheek A fatal, fearful change betr-y!" Gradually this terrible fear took root and grew, even in the sanguine heart of the father, yho hang around her now, more watchful, more tender, >f possible; but, ah! less and less hopeful, as day aftef day rolled on and yet brought no change for the better. At the closo of a long, close, breathless summer day—and there had blon many such since fcucy’s [ illness—Mr. RutliVen sat by her bedside In tfioPdusky twilight, fanning the child with slow, regular, monotonous vibrations. She lay, ns usSul now, placid and motionless, with closed eyes, the long, "dark Ipshcs resting upon the white-rose cheek ; but yet rioi sleeping. Suddenly she stirred, and the father bent forward. [cQNTINUKD XKXTW%EK.) - a r *. T , ; -r .'. «jfc| Heated Air in Deep Mines. A curious fact has been lately brought to notice ill regard to the Nevada silver mines. Heat, not ■water, is the chief enemy oncountered after reaching a great depth,, and, instead of pumping out water, the companies have to pump in air. A Nevada paper says: “The increase in the heat of our mines is now beginning to give many of our mining companies more trouble, and is proviDg a greater obstacle to mining operations in those levels lying below a depth of one thousand feet, than uny veins or ‘pocket’ deposits cf water yot encountered. A number of the leading companies on tbe Comstock aro now engaged in putting in engines to be used expressly .foil drivingJaha-far furnishing air to the lower levels, forcing it through largo tubes of galvanized iron. With this groat increase of heat iu our mines comes a great decrease of wafer; in fact, in our deepest mine—the Bullion, which has attained a .depth of twelve hundred feet—not a drop of water is to be seen; its is as dry as a limekiln, and as hot oven. In the lower workings of the Chollar-Potosi Mine, which are a perpendicular depth of eleven hundred feet below the surface, the thermometer now stands at one hundred degress—a frightful heat to bo endured by a human being engaged in a kind of labor calling for severe muscular exertion.— Here, also, we fled tho water to have decreased, till there is at the present time a very insignificant amount, it being necessary to run the pump but four hours out of the twenty-four.” —One of tho royal Generals in Spain recently condemned a child only five years old to bt shot as the sob of a rebel. The child net understanding the situation, moved about, and by extraordinary luck was not touched. The General then coolly it an orange, and while stooping to pick it up a second volley stretched it dead. ' ■■ , ■ • ? • -*An urn, containing 7,000 an eient silver coins, bas been recently unearthed near Marseilles. The inscriptions thereon Suggest that thy coins were struck anterior to the