MARSH 28 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER 
209 
‘‘LOOK NOT ON THE WINE WHEN BED.” 
On, look not on the wine when red— 
When sparkling In tho silver cup— 
For though bright bun* arc round It spread 
’Twill burn thr priceless spirit up! 
The dark browed yueen of Egypt gave 
Her rl< bout Jewels to its wave; 
And, as tlu-y perished, in the howl 
Will sink the treasures of the soul I 
Oh, look not on the crimson wine 
Let not Its waters kiss thy lip*! 
For, in their irav, delusive shrine. 
There’s hidden rtrn/h for him who stpe. 
The olden fount, the prophet viewed, 
Gleamed b Igtatlv in the solitude ; 
But soon, for him who drank, n gr.> vo 
Was found by Marah’s bitter wave! 
Oh. look not on the treacherous wino 
When in.in ill tig in the Jeweled howl; 
Thouali wreaths and flowers around it twine, 
They breathe a poison on the bouI. 
The orient Fpns proudly waves 
Its foliage o’er it land Of graves 1 . 
And thus the flow, r-wreathfd goblet S breath 
Brings desolation, woe and death 1 
Oh, look not on the tempting wine ! 
I’ass not beneath Us syren rod. 
Nor how before it Cannon atarlne. 
The iniH(f** uf orrution'sOuD. 
It is the fabled Circe bowl 
That dwarfed the stature, drowned the soul. 
And, by ils sorcery, fell, though mute. 
Transformed tho unicel to tho brute . 
oil, look not on the wine when red t 
It 1 r the deadliest hitman foe; 
It wreathes a cypress ’round the lienjl, 
And lays its proudest trophies low 1 
It darkens virtue, POtsona health, 
Blasts peace and nope, and robs ot wcaitn , 
Crime, pain, nnd faili lie round It tread— 
Then look not on the wine when red . 
#ur ^torg-i^r. 
EMMA EVANS' TEIAL. 
BY R. P. ALLEB. 
Why, 
PART I.-Estranged. 
On, Emma 1 have you heard the nows? 
Charley tans actually enlisted! 
“ No, indeed ; still it Is Just what might have 
been expected. He hua been ill at ease for 
some time past, I learn, In hla enthusiasm to 
participate in the life of a soldier." 
She closed her llpa with a moderation 
that Marv Johnson had little expect¬ 
ed. So calmly did sbo receive the 
“news" that not u word or movement 
revealed the chill that crept, across her 
heart. This calmness was forced, be¬ 
cause she saw the hilarity with which 
the announcement had been made by 
Mary was meant to bo a tantalising 
thrust at her poor little heart. 
“Yes, be has enlisted —as a private, 
too, and gave as a reason why ho should 
surrender better prospects, that he could 
not stand Idle when so many men were 
going who could ho Illy spared by their 
families; there are getting so many 
widows abroad bethought It more prop¬ 
er for those with no wives or children 
to mourn their Iobs were they to get 
killed—hence there would be less suffer¬ 
ing at homo.” 
“Get killed 1” And again that cold 
tremor flashed over her heart-strings— 
but as before she smothered the sicken¬ 
ing fear that was almoBt ready to hurst 
from her tightly-closed mouth. Marv 
Johnson did not possess clairvoyant 
powers, or she would have been able to 
fathom the depths of her listener’s heart, 
which perhaps was as well, because she 
little knew what a bruised reed she left 
behind her as she left the house, ap¬ 
parent baffled In the mission upon which 
she had called. Had she turned ana 
looked again, she would have seen a 
form In the very Image of an Inuni mated 
statue, that evinced no l bought of what, 
transpired about It. Wrapped In tbo 
gloom of her cold heart, Emma Evanh 
cared little for the deepening twilight- 
thought less of the dismal luturo than 
her present misery. 
Many hours she sat thus, when, with a 
start and a shiver, she threw off tho 
trance-like stupor that enthralled her. 
Raising from the seat at the open win¬ 
dow, she paused Into the hall and as¬ 
cended the stidrs to her own apartment, 
when, throwing off the out-door gar¬ 
ments; she bad been wrapped In. she 
drew an easy chair to the grate that, 
was burning brightly and throwing a 
genial warmth throughout the loom. 
Under its Influence she felt the soothing 
and sleepy feeling that usually follows 
exposure to cold or damp air, and fell 
into a half wakeful, half sleepy reverie. 
“I am getting old —actually passed 
twenty-four — have been a wife two 
years, and during that brief period there 
has grown up a difference between 
Charley and myself—a difference that 
leaves me alone —ye9, a grass-widow, to 
a certainty. Who Is to blame-for tho 
life of me l cannot tell; however, that 
is a small matter now-the past has fled 
and I am henceforth alone—alone. 
“Am 1 right? Is Charley the only 
one at fault ? Do not some wrong deeds 
rest upon my part? Goo knows there 
was no detscIt practiced when were mar¬ 
ried. We truly loved each other then, 
fordid we not promise in the sight of 
God and man that we would ‘love, 
honor aud obey?’ Be still, my heart I 
Let me think calmly, Judge impartially, for 
now the separation is as good as final, 'twill do \ 
no harm to review the past.” 
She relapsed Into a silence unbroken for some | 
moments, when she resumed ; — " Nay, nay 1 I 
can see no real ground for all this misery lie- ) 
tween ns. Yet why this coldness—this mis¬ 
trust of each other. Chari,BY Is a man of deep 
thought and high-toned honer. No subject bis 
mind cannot grapple with and conquor -ex¬ 
cept—woman, lla! can it be possible l have 
been too self-willed ? Can it be that my train¬ 
ing for a woman of the world has barrod my 
heart from sympathizing with his stern na¬ 
ture? Though cast off as l am, still I must own 
to my own heart that ho Is the very son I of 
honor and charity, and lam as unlmpresslhle 
as marble, as full of fault as the wandering 
frosts of autumn, robbing nature of Its loveli¬ 
ness. God help mo! This Is the first, time I 
ever experienced such t houghts ns these. He, 
the oil of goodness, and I, a rambling rivulet. 
Oil nnd water are opposites ; they will not mix 
in common.” 
Emma Evans wns not elastic, material. She 
had never known a law that was not oroaLed 
by herself. She was gentle by nature—a beauty 
In form, gifted by education and petted by 
wealth—in fact, her character hail been ma¬ 
tured by the promptings of her own mind. As 
a consequence, she was wholly unfitted to mute 
with a man like Charles Evans who, as soon 
as tho halcyon days of early matrimony had 
passed, expected his wife, like himself, had 
done sowing wild oats and was now to deal 
with more stubborn grain. 
They had spent a happy year—tho excitement 
of travel—the preparations for housekeeping. 
When they lmd passed their first, week in their 
own home, Charles became aware that Ida 
wife was unable to perform the simple duties 
ot the house, and that ho must sonure the ser¬ 
vices of a domestic that his wife was good for 
tho parlor, but an idiot in the kitchen. Emma 
had striven nobly to do her own domestic du¬ 
ties; but wet and sour meals throw a cloud 
over their bright anticipations—the happiness 
thoy hod so often promised themselves was 
breaking upon a thousand rocks. 
Who was at fault? The world over lovers 
cheat themselves and one another. The reality 
is known only when too Into to rectify. Love 
is a glittering gem that fades and withers under 
the first frost—brittle as glass until tempered 
by time, and the growth of mutual respect. 
Tho purest aud holiest love is simply the deep¬ 
est respect. 
By degrees the cloud gathered over this house 
a trifle here, another there, and the stern na¬ 
ture of Charles Evans begau to hide Its head 
beneath its own plumage. Scarcely perceptible 
was the slow-gr . wing antipathy between them 
—leas and less thoy mingled their mutual 
thoughts; they shunned tho society of one an¬ 
other more and more ns the days lengthened 
out, the nights became gloomy with separation, 
nnd many a time the last good-night was spoken 
coldly—but when tho darknesB encompassed 
them in their loneliness many a silent tear 
would show tho heart-longing for a reconcilia¬ 
tion that their Inborn pride forbade them to 
seek by acknowledging mutual error. 
“ I can bear this no longer,” she would sob in 
the privacy of her apartment. 
‘* Marriage is a confounded humbug unless 
the love be kept alive by mutual respect," ho 
would declaim, as ho turned the key upon the 
putslde darkness. 
During all this time the monitor, Conscience, 
told him he wns committing an unwarrantable 
wrong upon tho gentle little being whom ho 
had chosen of all others. Ills atom nature re¬ 
belled against offering terms of peace, because 
he knew she was wrong In part —vice reran. were 
the feelings of his wife. Thus the old proverq 
Is dally fulfilled, “ Pride goeth boforo a fall.” 
The culmination came at lust, and this wns 
tho way of It:—While sitting at the dinner 
tiitdu one day—the meal being out of sorts—ho 
had made some grumbling remarks which so 
Irritated Ids wife that she hastily responded,— 
“You married my money; that's all the love 
on your part—money—not the girl heart you 
won;” to which ho responded with glittering 
eyes, as ho arose from the table: 
“ Very well; as I am In part possession of 
your property, It shall bo restored In full." 
Taking his hat, he turned and bowed coldly, 
haughtily, and left the house. 
Tho hours spod and he returned not; one, 
two, four, six days, and ahe bad seen or heard 
nothing of him. Tho days became a weary bur¬ 
den unto her. The nights; ah, what, of them ? 
With tho silent World all about, there was a 
tempest of sorrow nnd terror surging great 
waves agulnst. her throbbing heart sounds 
caused by the bending trees blowing strains of 
tuad mockery through her aching head. Time 
and again would she leave her sleepless couch 
and seek comfort from the silence about. AY hen 
tiie days dawned the promptings of her lionrt 
bade her seek him out and implore forgiveness 
at his feet. Pride mocked her as being a fickle, 
cowardly woman. Pride conquered and the 
heart lrozu. 
On the eighth day from that when Charles 
Evanh had last seen his wife, she was seated in 
the parlor engaged In a reverie—as she now con¬ 
stantly was—when she heard footsteps ap¬ 
proaching the house. No sooner had she heard 
this now unusual circumstance than, with an 
impulse beyond her control, she sprang to the 
door In hope that, her husband had returned at 
last. AVhutahlow was that 1 She beheld tho 
form of a well known lawyer standing before 
hor, holding in his extended hand a letter; and 
he said,—‘‘This Is Mrs. Evans, I believe?" 
“Yes, sir," Emma replied, scarce heeding 
what she said or did. 
“ Then I have some business to transact tho 
naturo of which you will find disclosed in this 
letter from your husband." 
8bo turned and led the way into the parlor 
and sat down with the unopened letter In hor 
hand before her. She Intently looked at its 
superscription for a moment, and then turning 
to her visitor said, In a tone that tho old law¬ 
yer at on ee recognized as coming from a woman 
In despair:—“I cannot open this; I had better 
net. Take It and return it to tho writer just as 
It is, please. You can tell uio the business ou 
build." 
“ Your husband commands me to restore to 
you tho property ho received In trust at tho 
time of your marriage. You will find it perfect 
and complete In this package, which I hereby 
deliver. You will sign this receipt in 
token of acknowledgment that the 
property Is intact in your own right and 
possession.” 
No, sir," she replied. “I take the 
papers, but. give no receipt for anything 
that is mine by right and birth." Rising, 
she was about to leave tho room. 
“Stay a. moment, madam, if you 
pleuso. Tim recipt I am entitled to as 
proof that I liave disposed of the prop¬ 
erty according to orders. Mr. Evans 
has nothing to do with this part of tho 
business.” 
"In that caso I will examine the pa¬ 
pers first,” she nnswered. Untying the 
parcel, she carefully examined each 
separate article of transfer. Selecting 
one, in which was returned the house 
occupied by the aged mother of Charles 
Evans, she turned to hor visitor, saying: 
“ Please make this out., In the name of 
Martha Evans, my husband's mother, 
and give It to her. 1 will not rob tho 
aged mot hua because of any act of the 
son. Do as I request and say nothing to 
Mr. Evans about it. I will now sign 
your release.” 
As booh as Cieso matters were arranged 
the lawyer, rising, said “The business 
Is amicably settled. Your husband is 
*1 about to leavo town, or has already gone. 
Ha requested me to say that you are free 
to do as you will. He will no further 
molost you," and bowing, went away. 
It has been said that when two Ice¬ 
bergs meet In open ««a, there Is a shiver, 
next a loud crash, then tho whole tot¬ 
tering mass falls Into a common ruin. 
As the door closed behind tho cool- 
headed lawyer, the heart-tween little 
woman slowly arose, stretched her hands 
heavenward, and uttering a piercing 
shriek, fell senseless to tho floor. 
BTJO HUITTIKTGr„ --JD-A-II/'X' 
PART II.-Reunited. 
Thk months rolled on with their train 
of battle scones and horrors, and not 
one word had Emma Eva nr received or 
heard from her husband, except the lit¬ 
tle she gleaned from the papers or upon 
occasional visits to his mother's humblo 
cottage. 
The heart that Is bruised will always 
find a balm for Its wounds; generally, 
too, it seeks that which Is dear to those 
It has loved. Why la It so? There must 
be some current of subtle influence that 
rolls through It and bid It hope en 
through trial and temptation. Emma 
found in the mother of her yet idolized 
husband a sympathy that drew her to 
the aged one as the magnet tends to¬ 
ward the pole; tho yearning of sorrow 
to mlnglo with its counterparts—regret 
and repentance. 
Mouths of waiting nro ages upon the 
youthful brow. Months of watching 
breed hope and fanciful images that end 
in an abyss of misery. AVateblng the 
months roll drearily away, she read bow 
her husband was winning laurels for 
courage, and once, amid the exciting 
details of a hard-fought battle, she stop, 
ped breathless as her eye fell upon the 
one wiuhed-for name; a moment jgter 
