The Indianola Bulletin. (Indianola, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 14, Ed. 1 Friday, July 13, 1855 Page: 1 of 4
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1 t-i f!
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4 t
ANDREW MARSCHALK,
lEiriauola IBnlletra
INDEPENDENT IN EVERYTHING, NEUTRAL IN NOTHING.
EDITOR, publisher and PROPRIETOR.
1
VOLUME 1.
CITY OF INDIANOLA, TEXAS, JULY 13, 1855.
NUMBER 14.
THE DARK HOUR.
BY REV. H, HASTINGS WELD.
5dge it, evtiRj, to
erself At length, tne coolness be-
more and more chilling, until
resulted in irreparable estrange-
lt between Irwine and the friends
wife. He glorified in what! he
“ A complete, and en
ored to persuade himself, was a
i teous revenge. He made his "*
suitors forhis
A woman, still in the bloom of
routh, sat alone in an humble apart-
ient. Alone,—and yet not alone;
ir, although there were none with
I’hom she could exchange a thought,
le basket-cradle at her foot shelter-
ed a little being, which made Mary
wine, feel whatever the world may
ink, still she was not alone. Nor
she companionless; what moth-
is? To the stranger and the indil-
ent, the infant may seem, if not
cipher, a trouble, and a wearisome
arge. But she whose own blood
ws in its veins, never forgets, and
ver wearies.
We have said Mary was still in
e bloom ot youth. But the bloom
as sadly faded. Care, suffering,
t, had blanched the roses on her
eeks. A few days before, I you
ight have discerned feverish anxie-
there; but now, all that had pas-
The expression of her face was
oughtful; but still it spake rest,
e has drank of the cup of bitter-
to its very dregs; but He who
rs the sorrowful sighing of the
•etched, had comforted her. The
3 had passed and she felt that
ral composure which steals on
e soul, when all is done, and all is
~ered,—the rest with which Heav-
rewards the patient and the duti-
Her story was not a remarkable
e; if by remarkable we mean- to
,y unusual. The appearance of the
use indicated something of it; for
*^_e imagine there is always a signifi-
IHtoce m the aspect of a dwelling
Inch one of its late inmates has just
ft, to go to the ‘narrow house.’
ary’s husband had been consigned
the grave. The neighbors and
iends who had aided in the melan-
olly bustle of the last offices,; had
urned to their homes, and Mary
t with her babe in the silent room.
The husband whom she had buried
t of her sight wras her choice,—
er wilful choice, made in spite of
is remonstrances, the objections,
e forebodings of her relatives,
or a short time after her union, it
imed as if life and prosperity were
prove her triumphant answer to
eir objections. All was sunny,
heerful, promising. And the very
iends who had warned and expos-
lated with her, were willing to be-
ieve that they had been wrong, and
‘ 'ary right; and that affection had
ot unerringly pointed out to her ex-
llences of character, which they
ad not perceived. As if willing to
tone for past enmity by warm
endship, they crowded advantages
,nd facilities upon him, and liberally
>jpened the way to wealth. For a
me, all succeeded that he under-
k, and no young man in the city
med more certainly assured of
mpetence than he. And Mary,
ow happy she was! We can par-
on her snort experience of exulta-
ion, for she suffered bitterly for it.
Some men cannot bear prosperity;
d Henry Irwine was one of these,
ive them discouragements to meet
,nd unpropituotis circumstances to
mbat, and they hew their way with
silent pride and resolute persever*
nee which conquers all obstacles,
ut let the sun shine on them, then
ride soon finds outrageous utter-
ce, and resolution degenerates into
pinionated obstinacy. They take
Measure in contemning good advice,
nd will do wilfully wrong, and
gainst their own convictior, to
ark their independence. Henry
wine took early occasion to retali-
te upon his wife’s friends for what
e affected to regard as their unwar-
table opposition. He accused
em, while they were, in no small
the authors of his prosperity,
' drawn to him by it; and mu-
ted that selfishness was the origin
their tardy friendship, no less than
had been of their former enmity.
Mary was a true wife. She saw
a injustice of her husband, but de-
ed to acknowled
re-
was his impression. Theirs was that
they had overlooked the disagreea-
ble character of the favorite’s hus-
band, and striven to befriend him;
but that, true to his natural low in-
stincts, he had refused. Neither par-
ty was entirely right. When the
breach became final, Mary Irwine
deserted father and mother, and kin-
dred; for her husband, identified her-
self with him, so far as lingerinp
affections would permit. But, i
heart yearned over the dear first
friends of her youth, she never suf-
fered her conduct to betray what she
accounied a weakness; but clung to
her husband with a madness of af-
fection, which deserved a better
turn than she received.
Henry Irwine, as we have said,
could not bear prosperity. A secret
reason, hardly acklowledged to him-
self, why he disliked his wife’s con-
nexions, was because they perceived
his dangers, and ventured to warn
him. His sensitive pride took cap-
tious alarm, and he gloried in mock-
ing reproof, by persisting in indiscre-
tion. The end of such a course is
easily prophesied. He fell among
thieves; and for wounds ol friends
exchanged the selfish flattery knaves.
Plucked of money, and bankrupt in
credit and character, he awaked at
last to find himself a ruined man,
with a meek, uncomplaining wife de-
pendent on him, and feeling twice as
keenly as he did, all his ruin and de-
gradation. The temptation which
has ruined many, came in to com-
plete his destruction. He sought ob-
livion of his degradation in the wine-
cup, and there lost the last redeem-
ing trace or hope of manhood. It
is a fearful fall, when the appetites
triumph, and the reason is dethron-
ed; when the man wakes only to mis-
ery, and rushes back to inebriation
again, in the vein hope to forget him-
self.
A lower depth still remained; and
Henry Irwine found even that. His
juandiced thoughts dared to suspect
her who, for love of him, had surren-
dered friends, home, happiness, hope.
Because she did not, rail against
her own, as he did; because she was
meek, and quiet, and uncomplaining,
he quarrelled with her also. He
charged that she hated him, and re-
gretted that her fate was coupled
with his. The last she could not de-
ny; the first he saw in his own heart
and judged that it must be in her al-
so. It is their own fancied concealed
reflection in the good tfiat the wick-
ed hate.
And he dared, moreover, to ac-
cuse his wife as the cause of all his
misfortunes. He said she triumph-
ed in them! Can we wonder that she
would not say she did not ? It might
have been that she thought such a
charge too wickedly preposterous to
answer; or, it might have been that
she was wearied into hate at last, and
not displeased to find that was one
mode which she could inflict pain on
one who had heaped so many wrongs
on her. Mary was drawing near her
Dark Hour.
There is in most, if not in all ca-
reers, a moment—the crisis of a life ;
—an hour upon which all future
hangs. That crisis came to Mary Ir-
wine.
Her house, derobed of many com-
forts, was not yet quite desolate.
She clung, while a glimmer of hope
remained, to her faith in her husband.
She believed all that knew him did
not know his degradation. She
thought that she had concealed it
from many; and, fond simpleton! im-
agined that men did not see through
the hollowness of her smile when she
spoke of her husband.
It was night, and late. There
were voices, and a rude knock at the
door. She opened it, and her own
brother entered, preceding the po-
liceman, in whose custody he had
found the inebriate husband. She
looked, and comprehended all. They
laid the senseless man on the sofa;
and the strangers left the house.
‘Put on your bonnet, Mary,’ said
her brother, ‘and come home with
me.’
Mary cast an eye on the wreck of
her love and hope. Loathing
thoughts rose within her she made
one step as if to comply; for escape
was now in her thoughts, and she
felt that she had borne all that hu-
man nature could endure. The child
disturbed in its sleep, recalled to the
thought how hopeless was escape;—
the babe smiled, and in the smile has
saw the sunshine of other days.
out of her heart all its stem re-
solves. «j
‘Come!’ said her brother.
‘But, my child!’
‘We will send for it,’ said the
brother; but, perceiving a strange
look, almost indignant, through her
tears, ‘We will take it with us,’ he
said. But the first earless expression
turned the scale. She made no an-
swer,until, waiting a moment in si-
lence, her brother said, and now more
sharply, ‘Come/’
‘Wait till to-morrow.’
‘Now, or never P
She made no reply; but bending
over her infant soothed it to sleep
again. She Wavered—thought—par-
leyed; and was roused, at last, from
a half dream by the noise of a clo-
sing door. She rose suddenly, and ga-
zed wildly about'her. Her brother
had gone,—her dark hour had pas-
sed; for the temptation was with-
drawn. Did she do right? Mark
the sequel and then answer.
m. V
Henry Irwine awoke to conscious-
ness in a burning fever. It was not
merely that which invariably follows
debauch, iior was it that terrific deli-
rium consequent on long indulgence
in intoxication; for his fall had been
rapid, and the time of his error short.
Butdisa
sure, ha
a perfect wreck. He obeyed her
guidance like a child, and she con-
ducted him to his bed, and then des-
patched the following note to an old
triend:
‘Mary Irwine hopes that, among
all the friends of her better days,
there is one left who will come to her
in her extremity, with no impossible
demands, and that she shall find that
one friend in Dr Ralph.’
The physician, a benevolent old
gentleman, was with her even before
her messenger returned. lie listen-
ed kindly; and if a thought of incre-
dulity arose in his mind, he conceal-
ed it, and followed the wife, with kind
words, as an equal, and not as a pa-
tron, to the bed-side of her husband.
For a moment, he stood regarding
the sad picture; then, gently taking
the debauchee’s hand, proceeded me-
chanically to count his pulse.
‘Oh, Doctor!’ cried the sufferer,
turning away, ‘this is the cruelty of
kindness!’ A suspicion occured to
md a dark shade came over his face.
No!’ he shouted in a husky voice, ‘it
is the keenness of insult!’ He rose to
spring foward—but his face became
deadly pale, and he sank exhausted
and powerless.
The Doctor sighed and turned
away. He sat down And pencilled
a prescription, and said, I will call
again '
ippointment, excess and expo-
id made him, in a short space
Will you, indeed!’ said Mary, her
face brightening up.
Poor child V said the old gentle-
,n. ‘You are pleased to find that
I admit that something ails him be-
sides intoxication. Strange—strange
—but very natural.’ Ana he hurried
out.
Henry lay some hours, weak but
conscious. Faithfully, but painful-
ly did his wife attend upon him; for
while the necessity of attention and
the prompting of her heart called her
to his side, she grieved to see the
sight of her face disturbed him—dis-
turbed him almost to destraction.
And who can wonder ?
It was a long, long day. And day
passed into evening, and evening in-
to midnight, before the care of her
husband and her child suffered hdr
to rest. Exhausted nature claimed
her due, and Mary dreamed. She
was back in the joy of other years—
yet over that joy there seemed a sad-
ness. People were decrying him to
her, and she was zealously defending
him as she had often done. Ana
while she dreamed she thought his
pleasant voice spake in her ear, ‘Ma*
rv!’ Again it spake, and now she
sprang up and went to his bedside.
‘Can you forgive me ?’■ > u
‘Forgive you, dearestP She did
know whether- she was sleep or
awake—whether he spake in fact and
deed, or whether the voice were a
dream-voice. So, for wants of fur-
ther words she placed her cheek to
his.
‘God bless yon, Mary I Now I can
He fell asleep. But the shock his
health had received was not to be
retrieved so easily as by one night’s
rest. Ou the morrow ne was both
better and worse—better, fin* there
was less fever—worse, for there was
less strength.
And so wore day after day- We
gress, but slow, death mastered his
victim; Henry Ir wine’s days Were
nnmberd. And we need not des-
cribe how the weary life was closec
in forgiveness and peace. Brothers
and friends she lacked none now; for
He who calls ns hence by death, has
surrounded rits approach with cir-
cumstances' which remove enmities
and disarm hate; He passed away
quietly, and his last illness left a gen-
tle memory of him in men’s hearts.
: There was a sound of Wheels at the
door. ‘Now, daughter,’ said her
mother, as she entered, ‘we have
come for you, as we promised
Come home again to our hearth and
hearts. Forget you were ever away.’
Mary silently pointed to her child.
Her mother could make no reply, and
Mary said;
‘ ‘With this memorial of him, moth-
er, (and may God spare it for my me-
morial when I am gone,) I cannot
forget that I have been awav. And,
that once
am
I,
O! how grateful
away, I stayed until now; that I re-
mained here to see all reconciled on
earth; to note the evidence in a meek
and quiet, a repentant and resigned
spirit, that all is forgiven in heaven !
When this dear child shall live to
ask of his father, now, mother, I can
speak of the peaceful close of his
brief day, but! need not of its dread-
ful storms.’
And Mary Irwine hade adieu to
the house in which she had met and
conquered her Dark Hour.
Ladies’ Dresses.—The ladies’ dres-
ses are ballooning out to such an
enormous size, that we are informed
that the following colloquy took
place in the gardens of the Tuilleries,
where it is the custom to charge a
sou for every chair that is used:
Chairwoman—Madame has made
a mistake she has paid me only one
sou.
Lady—Yes, my good woman, I
have only occupied one chair.
Chairwoman—That is true; but
there were two other chairs, one on
each side of Madame, for the accom-
modation of madames’ dress, and
that makes three sous.
Lady—Three sous! But it’s scan-
dalous !
Chairwoman—Far from that; I
can assure Madame that a lady only
yesterday paid five sous for tine use
of five chairs, and her dress, I am
sure, was by no means as fashionable
as Madame s.
The three sous are paid contented-
ly, and Madame rises, displaying as
she retires the utmost breadth of her
dress, which may be described, with
out any exaggeration, as being quite
as broad as it is longr.—Punch.
‘The lad is
very desuitor
lgg>
The Seven Rot
The M
readings,’ said Dr. Di
a copy of ‘The
Dark Cave; or, The Mystery
Bloody Dagger,’ that Ike had
ory in his
taking up
obbers ot the
of the
left a
few minutes before. The savan tur-
ned over the leaves, looking at the
picture of the seven robers burying
their booty in a tomb, while the
witch of the cliff made incantations
over it to insure its safety. ‘I don’t
think.he takes to dysentery readings,’
said Mrs. Partington her ear not ex-
actly catching the word; his mind
has no tenderness towards doctor’s
books, and he only reads great histo-
rical books like that. I’m sometimes
afeard he will Wear himself out by
his studious and secondary habits.’—
She probably meant sedentary, but
doctor thought there was no dan-
the
rputting it into speedy opei
There is now a telegraphic
ger, as he caught a view of Ike upon
tne shed, throwing snowballs at a fat
man over in an adjacent yard.
Communication between New Or-
leans and San Francisco in eight
Days.—The New Orleans Picayune
says that the practicability has been
demonstrated, measures are in train
rations,
com-
munication between Vera Cruz
through the city of Mexico to Leon,
on the way to San Bias- Col. Stew-
art, who is the proprietor of the line,
has recently returned to Mexico from
the United States, and is now at work
exsending the line of telegraph from
Leon to Manzanillo, a distance of not
more than 160 or 180 miles. It will
be completed in a lew months, and
then there will be instant communi-
cation between Vera Cruz (only
three days distant from New Orleans)
and Manzanillo, only five days from
San Francisco—reducing the lime
from city to city to only eight days
in of fourteen or sixteen days
time now made between tne
A Terrible Hail Storm.—The an-
nexed account of a hail storm which
visited Pickens District, S. C., on
Friday, the 18tli nit., exceeds every
thing of the kind we have read or
heard of. Hail stones 10 inches in
circumference and four inches in
length, lying upon the ground six
feet deep*
The severest hail storm that ever
visited this section of country, pas-
sed down the East side of Eeowee
river, in tlie afternoon of Friday,
the 18th inst. It extended about
two miles in width, and raged with
great fury, killing hogs, fish, birds,
fowls and Insects; maiming and
bruising the cattle, and stripping
vegetation of evei^ vestige above
ground. The growing crop, with
the exception of corn, is completely
ruined. R. Stewart, Esq., informs
us that on the 3d day after its fall,
the hail was from one to two feet
deep, and in many places, six feet.-^
The average depth ‘of a level, after
the storm, was four inches. We are
informed by several persons that the
largest hail stones measured ten in-
ches in circumference and otheFs 4
inches in length. It fell with such
force that the boards on several hou-
ses were split to pieces, and that now
the stench arising from the decay*
ing vegetable matter is very offen-
sive. sj
We are indebted to«the kindness of
W. J. Parsons, Esq., for a small car-
pet bag full of the nail, gathered up
®kellaneott«;
on yesterday (the eighth day after its
fall.) Some of the stones were as
large as guinea eggs; and had been
taken from an open field, the ther-
mometer standing at 90 during the
two days past.
The storms extended trom the moun-
tains in NorthCarolina Easp—Pick-
ens {S. C.) Courier.
4t
Humanity*
It is generally known that savages
were employed by the king of Eng-
'and, George IH and paid so much
oer scalp of man, woman, and child,
during our revolutionary war. A
ew items from this terrible trade
in human flesh may perhaps interest
some of our readers, and show how
his paternal king strove to crush out
the noble spirit of independence of
our early heroes. Here is a list of a
number of packages that were sent
>y one James Boyd, from a Captain
Drawford to the British Governor of
Canada, Colonel Hamilton. These
packages of scalps were found among
;he baggage of the English army af-
ter the defeat of Burgoyne, cured
and dried, with Indian marks upon
them. The letter accompanying
them read thus:—
Package 1. Containing forty-three
scalps of Congress soldiers, killed in
different skirmishes,! stretched on
ffack hoops four inches in diameterj
Pack. 2. Containing ninety-eight
fanners’ scalps, killed in three hours,
on red hoops, with a hoe painted on
each, to denote their occupations,
Pack. 3. Containing ninety-seven
farmers’ scalps, on green hoops to
show shey were killed in the fields.
Pack. 4. Containing one hundred
and two farmers’ scalps, eighteen of
them marked with yellow flames, to
signify that they were burned alive.
Pack 5. Containing eighty-eight
sealps ot women, hair long braided,
to show that they were mothers.
Pack. 6. Containing one hundred
and ninety-three scalps of boys of va-
rious ages, on small green hoops, i j
Pack. 7. Two hundred and eleven
girls’ scalps, big and little, on small
yellow hoops,
Such was the stuff1 of which Eng-
lish royalists were made in the ‘days
that tried men’s souls,’—Boston Post.
The Enjoyment or Occupation.—
The mind requires some object on
which its powers must be exercisecL
and without which it preys upon it-
self and becomes miserable. A per-
son accustomed to a life of activity,
longs for ease and retirement, and
when he has accomplished this pur-
pose, finds himself wretched. The
pleasure of relaxation is known, ip
those only who regular and interest-
ing occupations. Continued re!
tion soon becomes a Weariness;
on this ground, we may safely as
of real
fashion, but to the
society, who, along
of lile,hftY6
occupation.
Uhjtf cohorts
Despising Household Duties.—
From a variety of causes, nothing is
more common than to find American
women who have not the slightest
idea of household duties^ A writer
thus alludes to this subject; ‘In this
neglect of household cares American
females stand alone. A German la-
day, no matter how high her rank
never forgets that domestic labors
conduce to the health of body and
mind alike. An English ladv,wheth-
er she be only a gentleman’s wife, or
a dukes, does not despise the house-*
hold, and even though ishe has a
housekeeper, devotes a portion of
her time to this, her happiest sphere.
It is reserved for our republican,
fine ladies to be more choice than
even their monarchial and aristocra-
tic sisters* The result is lassitude of
mind often as fatal to health as neg-
lect of bodily exercise. ^The wife
■who leaves her household cares to
the servants* pays the penalty which
has been affixed to idleness since the
foundation of the World, and either
wilts awav from ennui* or Is driven to
all sorts of fashionable follies to find
employment for the mind;
We perceive among the Arkansas
Items, that Capt,
Wm. L.
ears
Dawson,
killed
who some eleven years ago l
Seaborn Hill, a trader in tne Indian
Territory of Arkansas* has at least Un-
dergone his trial, been convicted of
manslaughter* and sentenced to two
years’ imprisonment in the penitenth
ary. Capt. Dawson* at the time of
the commission of the act* was Cap-
tain in the United States Army* and
went ;nto Hill’s counting room* raia*
ed a difficulty With him afid killed
him. Hill, if we recollect rightly
being unarmed. We thought at the
time it was a flagrant act, Dawson
escaped to Texas and sought refuge
with his relatives in that State.—•
When pursued, he managed through
the family influence to resist arrest*
and subsequently settled at one of
the coast towns as an attorney; Two
years since a requisition from the
Governor of Arkansas Cttffie for him,
he was arrested, taken off, and has
we believe, been in confinement ever
since.—Memphis Whig,
Madness of Gambling.—A milita-
ry officer, residing at the time in one
of the small towns on the southern
coast of Ireland was passionately fond
of gambling* and one night after lo-
sing all his money- and other valua-
bles* at the ■gambling table, offered to
stake his Wife, a lovely woman,
against all that his opponent had
won from him. The offer Was. accep-
ted, the game played, and the officer
beateni The wife, indignant at her
lord’s seeming want of affection* and
little knowing the infatuation of gam-
bling, determined on becoming the
property of the winner, seeing that
the husband had shown so little res-
pect, not tosay regard for her; The
husband’s honor being at stake, he
could offer no resistance—the wife,
who had no children, accompanied
her new master, and the poor victim
of the hellish passion of gaming, be-
came a maniac I Often and often
have we met the poor fellow on the
sea-shore, his hands behind his back,
gazing intensely across the broad ex-
pansive ocean, as if he expected the
return of her on whom his soul doat-
ed, and still remembered, from its
bosom—wild and tempestoUs as his
own—but she never came.—LTamiL
ton (C. IF;) Banner* ' «
iCHEB MURDERED BY A BoY;
emphis Whig learns from a
who was an eye witn«
Ltlenym
following particulars of a tragical
lir that occurred at Pontotoc, Miss.
A T:
—The!
gentl
the
affair that occurred at Pontotoc,
Mr. Brown*the principal of the male
academy at Pontotoc, had punished
one of his pupils. A* brother of the
boy that was whipped, by the name
of Wray, a youth of some 17 or 15
years old took a position where B*
would pass on his way home from
‘ ool,) and waited until he came
hen Wray attacked him*
o clinched, Brown only 14*
self-defence,
_ only!
them, until the
w yards* his
scho
along
The
ting in
saw it
betw<
run a
it onli
un
rards*
and fell down
w^e clinched
inflicted two wounds upon.
h [large bowie knife, whi
almost ii
% •? -
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Marschalk, Andrew. The Indianola Bulletin. (Indianola, Tex.), Vol. 1, No. 14, Ed. 1 Friday, July 13, 1855, newspaper, July 13, 1855; Indianola, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth739331/m1/1/?q=%22tex-fron%22: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting The Dolph Briscoe Center for American History.