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 THE BARD OF MOUNT MADONNA. 
 
 "Her lips to mine how often hath she joined. 
 
 Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing; 
 
 How many tales to please me hath she coined 
 
 Doubting my love, the loss whereof still fearing; 
 
 Yet, in the midst of all her pure protestings. 
 
 Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 "That nameless torture may be called a hell, 
 
 Where more is felt than one hath power to tell."— Shakipeare. 
 But more of Etta's doings will be sung 
 
 Soon as my pent-up rage can find a tongue. 
 
 "Women's feet still go astray, 
 If to ill they know the way." 
 
 i^«l/u/CtI>rr>-^ 
 
 THIS POEM CAN BE HAD ON APPLICATION TO THE AUTHOR, 
 •-^3 FOR 25 CEI«XS A COPY t$<— • 
 
 SAN DIEGO, California; 
 APRIL 20, 1887. 
 
V 
 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress 
 in the year 1887, hy Hiram Wentworth in, 
 the office of the Liljrarian of Congress a<t 
 Washington. ' 
 
SOLI) BY HIS WIFE IN MEXICO 
 
 THE HARD OF MOUNT MADONNA, 
 
 " Behold yon simpering dame, whose face between her forks presageth snow ; 
 who minces virtue, and does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name ; the 
 fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to it with a more ravenous appetite.,' — Shak . 
 
 "In venturing ill, we leave to be 
 The things we are, for those which we expect ; 
 And this ambitious foul infirmity 
 F'or having much, torments us with defect 
 Of what we have ; so then we do neglect 
 The things we have, and, all for want of wit. 
 Make something nothing, by augmenting it." — Shak. 
 
 "Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced." — Mu.tdn. 
 
 "' 1 am shamed through all my nature to have loved so vile a thing." — Tennyson 
 
 Al.r, KICHTS RKSERVKD BY THK AUTHOK. 
 
 San Diego, Cal., April 20th, i8 
 
 CHAPTER FIRST. 
 
 My hero claims no honored rank — 
 
 He is a humble poet ; 
 His life has been almost a blank — 
 
 'Tis sad the world must know it. 
 
 A poet's lot is always hard — 
 No lot on earth is harder ; 
 
 And no place else can test a bard 
 Quicker than Ensenada. 
 
 Hardship is oft a blessing, when 
 Men choose to so bestow it ; 
 
 Tailors can make good-looking men, 
 But hardship makes the poet. - 
 
 He trembles not at fortune's frown — 
 Disaster can't debase him ; 
 
 His wife may clamor for renown-- 
 T/iaf only can disgrace him. 
 
Her fair name he must not " defame " — 
 That .'Tiust be kept untarnished ; 
 
 If he presumes to whisper " shame," 
 He must at once be banished. 
 
 My bard has had a sorry time 
 
 Since he left San Diego ; 
 His wife imputes to him a crime 
 
 Would shame a Winnebago. 
 
 The way the jubilee began, 
 
 (Though he but vaguely guessed it,) 
 Reveals a bold and fiendish ijlan 
 For having him arrested. 
 
 Previous developments had shown 
 
 'I'hat she was busy scheming 
 To have him driven from the town — 
 
 Perhaps they were but seeming. 
 
 She'd tried to send him off elsewhere 
 
 By some occult devices ; 
 But, having failed, in sheer despair 
 
 She forcea a desperate crisis. 
 
 On April fifth, then, be it said. 
 
 (Without a sign of fighting,) 
 His wife was lying on a bed. 
 
 He at a table writing. 
 
 .\s springs the tigress from her lair. 
 
 She sprang toward the table 
 And said, " I'm going to pull your hair 
 
 .\s well as I am able." 
 
 She snatched the document instead, 
 
 And to her lair retreated ; 
 And he (while no harsh word was said,) 
 
 Sat still and let her read it. 
 
 And here the writing 1,11 produce — . 
 
 The infamous " defamer ;'' 
 She's given me a good excuse, 
 
 .'Xnd no one seems to blame her. 
 
 • 
 
 Editor : Dear Jjir — It's myself, this time, or. at least, what is supposed 
 
 to be the " better half " of me She lays she is going to get a " bill " frpm me, 
 and marry a man ill .San Diego who is worth half a million. I hope she will 
 succeed with her bill, and " get her work in " on the hal -million man ; and no 
 doubt she will, if the Governor of Michigan does not head her off ; but it would be 
 just like him to veto her bill or stay its execution for five or ten years. 
 
 Please do not send any paper containing this t ) Cadillac, Michigan ; otherwise 
 her nice little scheme might get frustrated. 
 
When she had read it through, in spite 
 She said, " the world shall know it ; 
 
 For when the boarders come to-night, 
 To them I'm going to show it." 
 
 He answered, "that I will not stand," 
 And made a dash to sieze it ; 
 
 But she condensed it in her hand, 
 And tightly did she squeeze it. 
 
 Fie caught her hand, she caught his hair, 
 And shouted for assistance ; 
 
 And his great crime (for I was there) 
 Was simply non-resistance. 
 
 Of course he took the writing back 
 By the installment process ; 
 
 But stoutly she refused to slack 
 Her hold upon his tresses. 
 
 She'd have the boarders wring his neck 
 
 For writing such a letter ; 
 No more he'd occupy the deck 
 
 Of his dishonored Etta — 
 
 Dismantled Henrietta ! 
 
 While thus she held him in her power 
 She tried to make him promise 
 
 To leave the town within an hour, 
 (But he refused to vamose) 
 
 Else most devoutly she would swear 
 That he had tried to slay her. 
 
 And have him placed securely where 
 He never could gainsay her — 
 
 Placed in the Ensenada jail, 
 
 By Mexicans surrounded, 
 Where no entreaty could avail 
 
 To have his case expounded. 
 
 Could this be that enchanting dame 
 
 For whose sake he had gone mad — 
 
 Whose ardent letters bore the name 
 Of Mrs. E. L. Conrad ? 
 
 No—this is Mrs. " Chamberlain," 
 
 So late of Coronado, 
 Who took H. Wentworth's name in vain, 
 
 Then made her escapade. 
 
Who kept the " Uuion Boarding House," 
 And got 90 much embarrassed 
 
 Repentantly she begged her spouse 
 
 Would come and help his " dearest." 
 
 Who promised hilii if he would come, 
 She ne'er again would leave him ; 
 
 She always /lad been true to him — 
 She never would deceive him. 
 
 On Mount Madonna's lovely brow 
 She was- not well contented ; 
 
 In haste she left — that's when and how 
 His ruin she invented. 
 
 Like lightning through the poet's mind 
 
 These burning thoughts were flashing ; 
 
 But in his wife he could not find 
 One symptom of compassion. 
 
 She'd rest herself a little while, 
 
 Then, all at once, would rally, 
 
 And, giving him a fiendish smile, 
 Would call aloud for " Sallie." 
 
 But Sallie had vamosed to town — 
 
 Still Etta kept on making 
 A racket, till success might crown 
 
 Her wicked undertaking. 
 
 In vain he counselled her to "hush" — 
 For she is no spring chicken — 
 
 And, though he saw what made him blush, 
 She did some splendid kicking. 
 
 When he released her dexter claw. 
 
 It straightway sought her pocket ; 
 
 So, lest a pistol she might draw. 
 He instantly re-took it ; 
 
 For she informed him the same day, 
 
 Before this little squabble. 
 That she a pistol could display 
 
 In case of any trouble. 
 
 One of her boarders, (Mr. ) 
 
 The weapon had provided. 
 
 Her uncongenial spouse to rout, 
 Whene'er she so decided. 
 
She'd carried it a month or more — 
 To health 'twas not conducive ; 
 
 He'd better leave the town before 
 It spoke in tone conclusive. 
 
 And once before, when he assayed 
 
 To speak on the defensive, 
 This admonition she conveyed — 
 'Tis very comprehensive : 
 
 "There ! Shut your raouth ! if not, your head 
 Will have a hole made through it ; 
 
 For I have with me here in bed 
 The thing with which to do it. 
 
 Failing to coax him off elsewhere 
 
 By lucrative didactics, 
 Now, having got him by the hair, 
 
 She had reversed her tactics. 
 
 But, though she fain would have him stay, 
 
 She was not superhuman, 
 Therefore at last he got away 
 
 From that conspiring woman. 
 
 When she, discouraged, let him go, 
 He leisurely walked townward ; 
 
 But soon met Mexicanas, two, 
 
 Well-armed, and hasting downward. 
 
 One of them wore a silver star. 
 
 And told him to surrender ; 
 Of course 'twas not worth while to spar — 
 
 My bard had no defender; 
 
 So he walked with them to the jail 
 And past the grinning sentry ; 
 Concludes this chapter of my tale 
 With that eventful entry. 
 San Diego, Cal, April loth, 1887. 
 
CHAPTER SECOND. 
 
 I've never prayed in all my life 
 
 Till now, for inspira:tion ; 
 Now I invoke on my false wife 
 
 Eternal condemnation. 
 
 O, woman ! (if the name belongs 
 To such a thing as you are,) 
 
 Dost think that such insulting wrongs 
 In silence I'll endure? 
 
 Nay, Etta, nay ! your brutal deed 
 
 Shall never be forgotten ; 
 Your infamy shall millions read 
 
 When your vile bones are rotten. 
 
 I've been to you a husband true — 
 
 You've made my life unpleasant ; 
 
 And now I have received from you 
 A dungeon for a present. 
 
 You've threatened oft to take my life — 
 Which threats I've little heeded ; 
 
 But now I almost wish my wife 
 Had long ago succeeded. 
 
 Wherefore am I put under ban 
 
 And treated with derision. 
 Like a convicted highwayman 
 
 In an outlandish prison? 
 
 Why is my plea received with scorn 
 To see my country's consul ? 
 
 Why do they shake their heads and warn 
 Me not to use my pencil ? 
 
 Why am I forced to beg for bread 
 
 Of those who "murderer" brand me. 
 
 And point their carbines when I've sard 
 Me tengo mucha hambre 7 
 
 Why am I starved in dungeon vile 
 
 Like an accursed hyena — 
 My wife and her gallants the while 
 
 Are playing at cassino? 
 
O, question not the tears I shed, 
 
 Nor why my cheeks blush scarlet : 
 
 Must it be said when I am dead 
 
 That Wentworth loved a harlot ? 
 
 Must I be branded as a knave, 
 
 And my wife be a lady, 
 When I have been her willing slave, 
 
 But would not keep crime shady ? 
 
 'Twould not be difficult to show 
 
 Why my wife calls me " villain ;" 
 
 She says she has a man in tow 
 
 Who's worth full half a million. 
 
 Perhaps she thinks she can suppress 
 The man without a dollar, 
 
 And unmolestedly caress 
 
 The other foolish fellow — 
 
 Perhaps she'll find adventure's stream 
 Too wide for her to straddle ; 
 
 And will be forced (spite of her dream) 
 Her own canoe to paddle. 
 
 Be that, however, as it may, 
 
 I'll go on with my story ; 
 I'm bound to give the plot away, 
 
 In spite of shame or glory. 
 
 The world shall know of her vile scheme 
 
 To its remotest borders ; 
 For I will make her name a theme 
 
 For criminal recorders. 
 
 Shame has been oft personified,' 
 But not, on record, better, 
 
 In this wide world of shameless pride, 
 Than by my own false Etta — 
 My heartless Henrietta ! 
 
 Nothing transpired from my arrest 
 Till I received my sentence — 
 
 Which I received without protest — 
 My prayer was to be sent hence. 
 
 The "gov'nor" came to my relief — 
 
 A swarthy Mexicana — 
 When I found out I'd come to grief 
 
 In this peculiar manner : 
 
" You're charged with a most murderous act, 
 
 And also defamation — 
 Have been convicted, and, in fact. 
 
 Are doomed to transportation. 
 
 Your wife no more will punish you 
 
 For trying to defame her, 
 If you from hence agree to go 
 
 Upon to-morrow's steamer ; 
 
 But if you choose not to comply 
 
 With her benign de'^ision, 
 You're liable for life to lie 
 
 In some interior prison. 
 
 You cannot see your wife again, 
 
 Save by a guard attended ; 
 But, till the boat leaves, may remain 
 
 In town — if well commended." 
 
 A friend that moment chanced to come, 
 And my release was granted ; 
 
 A guard went with me to my home 
 To get some clothes I wanted. 
 
 My anxious wife desired to know 
 If I'd received my sentence — 
 
 Austerely grinned, but did not show 
 One symptom of repentance. 
 
 J told her what I did receive, 
 
 And she was much astonished. 
 
 But said the town I could not leave 
 Till I'd been further punished. 
 
 The guard went with me back to town. 
 But would not there release me ; 
 
 The sooty governor had gone, 
 
 So back in jail he forced me. 
 
 My wife called in that afternoon — 
 
 (Angelic sympathizer ! ) 
 " You do not know your fate, but soon," 
 
 She said, "you will be wiser." 
 
 "I've made your sentence very light. 
 You have no cause to blame me ; 
 
 I'ni bound to keep my honor bright, 
 And let no one defame me." 
 
" The laws down here are strict and just, 
 With them 'tis vain to trifle ; 
 
 So you will understand you must 
 Forever cease to cavil. 
 
 You'll have to sign a heavy bond 
 
 To leave my name unmentioned — 
 
 Yes, Hiram, from this day beyond 
 You're on ray mercy pensioned." 
 
 The letters she had written me 
 
 Before we were united, 
 She boasting said "by force will be 
 
 Taken ere you've departed." 
 
 I told her that those letters weie 
 
 Not then in Ensenada — 
 Of getting them she must despair — 
 
 Which made her breathe much harder. 
 
 She said she'd "have somebody sent 
 
 Right up to San Diego ; 
 My purpose she would circumvent 
 
 Before I could away go." 
 
 She breathed awhile, and then resumed 
 With well-disguised emotion, 
 
 As if I were a demon doomed. 
 And she were all devotion : 
 
 " Now, If there's aught that I can do, 
 
 Let it not be rejected ! 
 Poor Hiram ! I do pity you ! 
 
 But I must be protected." 
 
 And here's the answer which 1 made 
 
 To her affecting ditty : 
 "You are incapable, indeed, 
 
 Of either love or pity." 
 
 •'Good bye!" she said, her teeth close shut, 
 
 And left as if she meant it. 
 Thought I, I never shall get out 
 
 If lying can prevent it. 
 
 San Diego, April i2th. 
 
CHAPTER THIRD. 
 
 What wonder tears began to flow 
 
 At thoughts of such dishonor — 
 
 Sold by his wife in Mexico, 
 
 The bard of Mount Madonna ! 
 
 His mind went back to former times, 
 Which made him ahnost frantic : 
 
 And then he mused: "I'll write some rhymes 
 Will make this thing romantic." 
 
 And the productions of my pen 
 
 Which now appear on paper, 
 Had their conception in that den 
 
 Of filthy smoke and vapor. 
 
 Contrasting that infernal jail 
 
 With Mount Madonna's summit, 
 
 Caused my indignant blood to boil 
 And made my stomach vomit. 
 
 And shall my wife unpunished go — 
 
 The arch connubial traitor? 
 'No ! By my reputation — No ! 
 
 I'll teach the world to hate her. 
 
 Nature worked hard six thousand years 
 
 To make my vixen Etta ; 
 I'd rather be disgraced by shears 
 
 Than let oblivion get her. 
 
 She might have known her fiendish plot. 
 
 For my extermination 
 Would prove her passport to the lot 
 
 Of endless execration. 
 
 I've never grumbled that her face 
 
 Is not a thing of beauty ; 
 But, since she's crowned me with disgrace, 
 
 I shall perform my duty. 
 
 Upon her nose the ancient youth 
 
 Has had an operation 
 Which caused a hole down through her mouth 
 
 And stopped articulation. 
 
She had to have a new mouth made, 
 And teeth therewith connected, 
 
 Without which she would be a jade 
 Not very much respected. 
 
 Excepting when her mouth is in 
 
 She can't speak — and no wonder- 
 Besides, her peaked nose and chin 
 Are scarce an inch asunder. 
 
 No person, howsoe'er devout, 
 
 Could watch poor Etta coughing 
 
 Until she coughed her new mouth out, 
 And keep from inward laughing. 
 
 Then she could only talk by signs, 
 And, were it not too perwex?e, 
 
 I'd write some interesting lines 
 Describing her manoeuvres. 
 
 To do her justice, I must say 
 
 My wife's an expert feinter ; 
 
 I've known her feint six times a day, 
 And find fault the remainder. 
 
 She used to live in Cadillac — 
 
 Her friends will recognize her ; 
 Without expense she can go back 
 . After I advertise her. 
 
 She claims to be a "Johnny Bull," 
 
 Of notable extraction ; 
 Her conduct points toward some pool 
 
 Of moral putrifaction. 
 
 Religion is another scheme 
 
 By which she seeks promotion ; 
 
 But if religion is no dream, 
 
 O, what will be her portion ? 
 
 She's hypocritical throughout, 
 
 From blood heat down to zero ; 
 
 And there is not the slightest doubt 
 She's wilted many a hero. 
 
 How oft I've held her in my arms, 
 Moved by her fond professions. 
 
 And tried to analyze her charms 
 In spite of prepossessions. 
 
She often said she wished that I 
 
 Could love as much as she did ; 
 
 I fondly told her 1 would try. 
 I hope I have succeeded. 
 
 She said I ne'er could realize 
 
 The depth of her affection ; 
 
 But I have ascertained its size — 
 
 Its height, depth and complexion. 
 
 When once her love she had vouchsafed, 
 She could not countermand it ; 
 
 It mattered not how much it chafed, 
 Her victim had to stand it. 
 
 Ill philosophic state of mind 
 
 I heard this declaration. 
 Determined I would be resigned 
 
 To my strange situation. 
 
 But this is Ensenada jail. 
 
 And that was Mount Madonna ; 
 ' Tis now too late to countervail 
 
 My wife's unblemished honor. 
 
 She's proved exactly what she is — 
 There's no tnistake about it ; 
 
 And, by the time I've finished this, 
 No one who reads will doubt it. 
 
 Before she made this final show 
 
 Of her excessive pity. 
 She tried to force me .straight to go 
 
 To Mississippi City. 
 
 She had some true friends living there, 
 To whom she would commend me; 
 
 She'd raise the coin to pay my fare — 
 She knew they would befriend me. 
 
 She'd come, when I got "settled down," 
 And be my "little wifey." 
 
 I didn't go — her friends might frown, 
 Or take my little lifey. 
 
 To get my life insured she'd try ; 
 
 And when I asked her wherefore : 
 "Why, dear, supposing you should die, 
 
 Who would your baby care for ? " 
 
Another tale 1 will unfold, 
 
 And then subside contented : 
 
 I don't ask Michigan for gold, 
 Whatever Etta's hand did. 
 
 If false or true, I can't say which — 
 Truth does not oft decoy hei- — 
 
 She said she threw on Mrs. Fitch 
 Some vitriol, to destroy her ; 
 
 And that a large amount would be 
 Paid for her apprehension. 
 
 ' Tis immaterial to me — 
 
 The yarn I merely mention. 
 
 The thing transpired in Cadillac 
 i'wo years ago last autumn ; 
 She's oft been on the sheriff's track, 
 And once she nearly caught him. 
 
 The seventh sun of April rose 
 To find my bard impatient ; 
 
 For it was whispered by its foes 
 He would be far away sent. 
 
 He must be sent where he could be 
 Deprived of tools to write with ; 
 
 His wife had won their sympathy — 
 Her wish must be complied with. 
 
 The fellow is insane, no doubt — 
 He may do something awful ; 
 
 It isn't safe to let him out — 
 In lact, it isn't lawful. 
 
 But, after consultation, they 
 
 Agreed I might that day go 
 
 (If I would never come that way 
 Again) to San I )iego. 
 
 I'd paid in on some lots I bought 
 About two hundred dollars : 
 
 Burnstein returned it, as he ought — 
 Of him I am not jealous. 
 
 The day wore on — I paced the jail 
 In doubt, with arms akimbo. 
 
 And often ir.uttered, "This is hell — 
 Whv am I still in limbo ? " 
 
' I'was nearly time the boat should sail — 
 My nerves were quite unsteady ; 
 
 There was no chance to take leg bail — 
 The prospect was most shady. 
 
 So I began to bluster round 
 
 And show my independence ; 
 
 The captain of the guard was found 
 Who soon enforced my sentence. 
 
 The guard again went to my house — 
 My trunk was packed instanter ; 
 
 My wife was ready for a touse, 
 But I'd no time to banter. 
 
 Her grief she scarcely could endure 
 Because 1 had her picture. 
 
 (A steel engraving I'll procure 
 
 To help my rhyme convict her.) 
 
 "Now both of us are fancy-free, 
 Why would you still retain it ? 
 
 Of course you'll send it back to me — 
 I'm sure you'll not profane it? " 
 
 "'Good bye," she said, but I did not — 
 
 I chose to say it later ; 
 And (mistress of her qhosen lot) 
 I dropped my hot potato. 
 
 We made good time toward the boat — 
 My trunk between us bringing ; 
 
 And when I found myself afloat, 
 
 I scarce could keep from singing. 
 
 I didn't quarrel with my luck 
 
 Of getting "transportation;" 
 
 1 came the nearest being stuck 
 I have since my creation. 
 
 No stupid fiction I create 
 
 To make my readers drowsy ; 
 
 In chapter four I shall relate 
 How I came to be lousy. 
 
 Sar*. Diego, April 15. 
 
CHAPTER FOURrH. 
 
 I scarce had to my berth retired 
 
 Ere I in dream-land rambled ; 
 My wife against my life conspired 
 
 And in my ruin gambled. 
 
 Again I heard the brazen hag 
 
 In bold defiance cackle : 
 " The goose which lays the golden egg 
 
 No poor man shall enshackle." 
 
 She's been emboldened by success 
 
 Till nothing will appease her 
 But my unqualified disgrace 
 
 And some rich harlot-squeezer. 
 
 Because her mischief-making friends 
 (She claims) are rich and rriany, 
 
 I cannot thwart her fiendish ends, 
 For friends, I have not any. 
 
 She fails to reckon on my pen — 
 
 , A vast immortal treasure 
 Which laughs at gold, and loudest when 
 It waits on Went worth's pleasure. 
 
 Her record she cannot efface — 
 
 'Tis doomed to live forever ; 
 The man whom she would fain debase, 
 
 Defies her vain endeavor. 
 
 She's left no artifice untried 
 
 Which promised to degrade me ; 
 
 She's lied, and schemed, and schemed, and lied, 
 And finally betrayed me. 
 
 But Etta's lust-begotten trick 
 
 With me to play the devil. 
 May prove the grand climacteric 
 
 In her career of evil. 
 
 When I went home one week ago. 
 
 She had her plan digested ; 
 ' ['was very simple —yes or no - 
 
 Leave here, or be arrested. 
 
She had conjectures (quite abstruse) 
 
 I'd better travel southward ; 
 Perhaps her friends might ''cook my goose," 
 
 If I should journey northward. 
 
 i'o seek my fortune in the mines 
 
 She often did advise me ; 
 Fortune cuts up all sorts of shines — 
 
 No doubt she would surprise me. 
 
 I never would get aught to do 
 Loafing round Ensenada ; 
 And she and I would soon be two — 
 ^ , 77/67/ I must work much harder. 
 
 \i 
 
 rbere everybody hated me, 
 
 And not without good reason ; 
 
 If I remained there, I'd soon be 
 Convicted of wife-treason. 
 
 She didn't want my patronage — 
 I'd covered her with vermin ; 
 
 And she, with well-dissembled rage, 
 Declared she would extermin- 
 
 .■\te the lousy poet who had brought 
 
 Creepers from San Diego ; 
 She one of them that day had caught 
 
 Crawling way up her leg — Oh ! 
 
 And on her elsewhere she had found 
 
 No fewer than a dozen ! 
 No ! gracious ! no ! she'd not be bound 
 
 To such a lousy person ! 
 
 So I protested there and then — 
 
 " Those lice — I never brought them ; 
 
 I to no unclean place have been 
 
 Wherefrom I could have caught them.' 
 
 " That matters not — no other way 
 They ever could have got here ; 
 
 Therefore no longer you shall stay 
 (If you do, I shall not) here ! " 
 
 I stripped my clothing off and found 
 Thereon three lusty crawlers. 
 
 Which proves that I had ample ground 
 To gamble dimes and dollars 
 
That 1 was innocent of what 
 
 My wife imposed upon me, 
 And that 'twas but another plot 
 
 Away from home to run me. 
 
 The lice war she herself begun, 
 With mischief-making license, 
 
 Then beat my lice count four to one. 
 And beat her o.wn device hence. 
 
 And, furthermore, let it be said, 
 
 (Not to encourage wonder) 
 Since my return, in our wide bed 
 
 We had slept far asunder. 
 
 'I'wo weeks away is quite a spell — 
 
 With smiles niy wife should greet me ; 
 
 She kept aloof, though, strange to tell, 
 As though she didn't need me. 
 
 That evening the insidious dame. 
 
 With mystical demeanor. 
 Said, "Come, boys, let us have a game, 
 
 Four-handed, at cassino." 
 
 " I'ii choose for my pard Mr. A. ; 
 
 Let Mr. S. take Hiram ; 
 Of course they don't know how to play, 
 
 But we can soon inspire 'em." 
 
 " We want to have a little fun, 
 
 And therefore we'll excuse them ; 
 
 We'll show them, though, ere we have done. 
 How much we can amu^e them.'' 
 
 We'd not been playing very long 
 Ere I saw mischief hatching ; 
 
 .A.t first I noticed nothing wrong 
 Save energetic scratching. 
 
 First Etta's pard would scratch a while, 
 Then they'd both scratch in concert ; 
 
 Then at each other they would smile — 
 Myself they next would glance at. 
 
 " I wonder who can tell the price 
 
 Of this infernal itching.'* 
 Perhaps it is — it can't be — lice ! 
 
 I wonder if 'tis catching ? " 
 
"I'here is a cause fur everything — 
 
 There's nothing that can miss one ; 
 
 If ridicule has any sting, 
 
 We'll prove the cause of this one." 
 
 'I'hey kept it up for half an hour, 
 And I did not disturb them ; 
 
 At last my temper got quite sour, 
 
 And 1 thought best to curb them. 
 
 " 'Tis hardly worth while to make game 
 
 Of a few harmless vermin ; 
 Thefre here, of course, but how they came. 
 
 Please let events determine." 
 
 " There ! Mr. Wentworth, that's enough — 
 Your doom is now decided ; 
 
 1 will not live with such a rough — 
 You ought to be raw-hided ' " 
 
 The game went on for quite a while, 
 Which I kept closely watching, 
 
 But witnessed not another smile, 
 
 And there was no more scratching. 
 
 But when together in our room 
 
 Her tongue resumed its clanging, 
 
 And most |jerversely did- she fume 
 While she her hair was banging. 
 
 And evermore until I'm dead 
 
 My memory will retain tier, 
 Just as .she sat there on the bed 
 
 Grinning like a hyena. 
 
 My bard awoke and gazed around — 
 
 Astonishment defied him ; 
 But he was hap!)y when he found 
 
 His wife was not beside him. 
 
 ' i'was but a dream of what had past — 
 
 A vivid and a true one — 
 Of Etta's victim — not her last — 
 
 She soon will have a new one. 
 
 Who holds her in his arms to-night ? 
 
 Perha[)s his name is Legion ; 
 I hope he'll keej) her honor bright 
 ' And varnish her religion. 
 
I do not envy him his bliss — 
 
 He'll find it ever fleeting ; 
 Just when he thinks he's 'where it is, 
 
 'Twill be elsewhere retreating. 
 
 No one can blame my jilted bard 
 For these enforced reflections ; 
 
 He sends them broadcast forth to guard 
 His wife's*nsidious actions. 
 
 Injustice she can never get 
 
 Save on the score of mercy ; 
 
 Her wicked conduct I regret- 
 Would it were vice versa. 
 
 Against myself I must rebel 
 
 And seem to be inhuman, 
 When my life-prayer has been to dwell 
 
 In love with some true woman. 
 
 O, why should such sad fate be mine — 
 
 To wed a vile imposter? 
 Why should a poet's love divine 
 
 Be doomed to such disaster? 
 
 My bard tried to excuse his shame, 
 
 But grief his effort chided ; 
 
 And therefore at the bar of fame 
 
 . His case must be decided. 
 
 The letters spoken of elsewhere 
 
 Will eveiy one be printed ; 
 The trial must be fair and square, 
 
 And properly presented. 
 
 Yes, Mrs. Conrad I will show 
 
 In all her pious splendor ; 
 I can't afford to let her go 
 
 Without a good off-sender. 
 
 To almost any trick or trade 
 
 She can with ease adapt her ; 
 
 But 'tis her forte to ensenade* [*ensnare] 
 Men with religious rapture. 
 
 I'm almost dead from want of slee]) 
 
 And from severe vexation ; 
 Therefore (my readers must not weep) 
 
 I'll take a short vacation. 
 
 San Diego, April i8th. 
 
CHAPTER FIFTH. 
 
 But Wentworth scarce had shuffled off 
 Life's heavy load of lumber 
 
 Before the boat dropt in a trough 
 To countermand his slumber, 
 
 And, thrown abruptly on his head, 
 
 Till reason told me better, 
 I thought he'd been kicked out of bed 
 
 By my perfidious Etta. 
 
 But when I found he could not stand 
 
 The boat was so unsteady, 
 I took his clothing in my hand 
 
 And we for hell made ready. 
 
 I was the first to get on deck. 
 And, far from being frantic, 
 
 I didn't even think of wreck. 
 The scene was so romantic. 
 
 The white waves chased the little boat . 
 
 As wolves a scared jack rabbit ; 
 Some tried to sieze her by the throat, 
 
 But, somehow, couldn't grab it. 
 
 The boat is little, but she's brave : 
 Applause I could not smother 
 
 When she would swallow one big wave 
 And jump to catch another. 
 
 I who but yesterday did prove 
 
 My wife a treacherous schemer, 
 
 Was then (confound my luck) in love 
 With that bewitching steamer. 
 
 I sat entranced and held my breath — 
 The waves were growing bolder, 
 
 .And one fierce white cap snapped his teeth 
 Directly o'er my shoulder. 
 
 Although the wind did not increase, 
 
 The false Pacific ocean 
 Showed not the slightest sign of peace. 
 
 But raged with wild commotion. 
 
Point Loma dawned upon the scene, 
 And soon we passed his portal ; 
 
 Then everything became serene — 
 The waves refused to sport all. 
 
 I drew one long, inspiring breath 
 
 And audibly reflected : 
 " T have been colonized to death, 
 
 But now I'm resurrected !" 
 
 Wentworth will be himself again 
 
 In spite of opposition : 
 He can't be snuffed out till his pen 
 
 Accomplishes its mission. 
 
 Now I am out oi Mexico, 
 
 In Uncle Sam's dominions. 
 
 My wife and all the world shall know 
 My long-suppressed opinions. 
 
 "Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,' 
 And promenade on tiptoe ; 
 
 But Ensenada, let no man 
 
 Who has a false wife, ship to. 
 
 She'll sell him to some Mexican, 
 And they will take the money 
 
 And go somewhere to spend a moon 
 Improperly called "honey." 
 
 In Mexico an Englishman 
 
 Is very much respected ; 
 But no " accursed American " 
 
 May hope to be protected. 
 
 No self-respecting man will stay 
 
 And listen to a lingo 
 Which, be his conduct what it may, 
 
 Still brands him as a " gringo. " 
 
 The Mexicans owe us a grudge, 
 
 And they will interdict us 
 Till we give them another nudge 
 
 And teach them to respect us. 
 
 The day is not far distant when 
 Old Mex will burn her fingers 
 
 By fooling round the quiet men 
 
 Whom she derides as "gringos." 
 
As 1 was twenty years ago, 
 
 (In love with glorious trifles,) 
 
 I'd like to march through Mexico 
 Backed by ten thousand rifles. 
 
 I'm not in love with trifles now — 
 
 My head is getting hoary ; 
 But this damned pen must crown my brow 
 
 With something — shame or glory. 
 
 But for my pen, I'd never had 
 
 This matrimonial trouble;' 
 It seems omnipotently bad 
 
 And impotently noble. 
 
 I won my wife without a thought 
 
 But sentimental rapture ; 
 If I had known the thing I caught, 
 
 There would have been no capture. 
 
 I'd not have been where now I am 
 
 Directed by a blind sight. 
 My foresight isn't worth a damn. 
 
 But I've a splendid hindsight. 
 
 A dunce, when first he's "taken in," 
 
 Is simply to be pitied ; 
 But if he plays the fool again, 
 
 He ought to be committed. 
 
 From boyhood I had longed to be 
 
 Connubially mated — 
 To climb the matrimonial tree 
 
 And be domesticated. 
 
 I've been unmercifully lunched 
 
 On desiccated bacon ; 
 M)' check for happiness is punched, 
 
 And soon will be re-taken. 
 
 I seek not friends — I fear not foes — 
 I'd scorn to borrow splendor ; 
 
 .And, when I take fate by the nose. 
 It means she must surrender. 
 
 Henceforth my •' darling " shall not rest, 
 No matter where she hides her ; 
 
 To ruin me she's done her best, 
 
 And now mv wrath abides her. 
 
Today she cunie from iVIexico, 
 
 Escorted by a greaser; 
 She hurried nurhward just as though 
 
 She feared the law would seize her. 
 
 Of course I could imprison her, 
 
 Hut I've no inclination ; 
 To punish Etta 1 prefer 
 
 With healthy moral suasion 
 
 O, Ijnguage! would that thou wert rich 
 
 As I am persevering, 
 I'd carry rhyme to such a pitch 
 
 ' Twould magnetize the hearing. 
 
 O, Etia! wonld that thou wert true 
 
 As I am unrelenting, 
 I'd make the wide world worship you 
 
 Instead of reprehending. 
 
 O, Virtue ! if on this vile sod 
 Thou hast a being real, 
 Com maud me ! I will worshij) God — 
 For thou art my Ideal. 
 
 0, Freedom ! hide your head and shun 
 
 The glorious light of heaven. 
 ' Shame ! that such sooty deeds are done 
 In eighteen eighty-seven. 
 
 Ah ! vainly might I wail my wrong 
 .\nd curse my vile deceiver, 
 
 If (as immortal as my song) 
 
 My shame must last forever ; 
 
 But since perfidious Etta's shame 
 I must stoop to contend with,, 
 
 I shall exonerate the name — 
 
 The fame of Hiram Wentworth. 
 
 As I have neither time nor room 
 
 In this short publication 
 To twine a wreath for Etta's tomb, 
 
 I'll save my inspiration ; 
 
 And, muttering a solemn vow 
 To cancel all reproaches, 
 
 1, (with a grim, sarcastic bow) 
 
 Will say buenas noches. 
 
 HIRAM WENTWORTH. 
 San Diego, Cal., April 20th, 1887. 
 
The following letter, which I received at the Oilroy postoffice on or about the 
 loth of last January, does not require much comment from me. Justice Long 
 is a resident of Cadillac, Michigan, at which place my wife has, in several of her 
 splenetic moods, confessed the commission of a penitentiary offense two years 
 ago last autumn. The day before I received the letter, I had shipped all of our 
 household goods from Gilioy to iVIonterey, with the intention of going to Mon- 
 terey two days later and re-shipping them and going with them bv boat to San 
 Diego. After receiving the letter which follows, I had the goods stored about 
 two weeks in Monterey, being in doubt what to do with them. In the mean time 
 1 wrote several letters to San Diego to learn more particulars of my wife's ar- 
 rest ; but none of her frinds knew anything about it, and I was informed that she 
 was still in San Diego. Finally she wrote me a note herself, saying .she begged 
 Captain Ingalls to put her off the Ranger at the Coronado Islands, whence, after 
 one week's absence, she returned to Coronado Beach. Before receiving her 
 letter, I had made arrangements to join the Topolobampo colony, and for that 
 l-iurpose had again shipped our goods to San Francisco. At her earnest entreaty 
 I immediately went with them to San Diego, and shortly after to Ensenada, 
 Mexico. While in Ensenada, she informed me that the account of her arrest 
 
 was all a hoax, gotten up by herself and her partner, M E , to keep me 
 
 from coming to .San Diego ; but her partner soon " went back " on her, and 
 then she wanted me to come. When she last threatened to get a bill from me, 
 (she has made the same threat at short intervals ever since we were first mar- 
 ried) I reminded her that I had some letters in my possession which would be 
 very strong evidence against her, if I saw fit to produce them ; to which she re- 
 plied: "Why, you poor old fool, I'd go right up on the witness stand and 
 swear I never wrote them." 
 
 Steamship Ranger, San Diego, Cal., Jan. 7th, 1887, 
 Mv Darling — Out of great tribulation I write to you once again. I was 
 arretted last night at the instigation of Justice Long, and taken quietly to the 
 New Carleton Hotel ; and they locked me in a room with a keeper on the out- 
 side. I had a corner room in the second storj', near the fire escape. 1 made up 
 my mind I would escape or die in the attempt ; so I started on my perilous voyage 
 through the air. I made a more rapid than safe descent until I reached the win- 
 dow directly under mine, when I had the good or bad fortune to awake the oc- 
 cupants of the room ; and I soon heard the window rise, and a man's hand grasp- 
 ed me in an iron grip. I had presence of mind enough not to speak, neither did 
 he until the window was down and the curtain drawn ; then he bade me look to- 
 ward the bed. I looked, and there sat a little woman about my size, and she had 
 nie well covered vitha revolver, and all she said was, " Explain your conduct, 
 and that quickly.' I explained and told her the truth just as it was. She was 
 very brief in her remarks, simply saying, "'Captain Ingalls, when does the 
 Ranger leave port V " His answer was, " At half-past four in the morning, on 
 account of the tide." She — Mrs. Ingalls — then said, "This woman must go 
 with me as my maid, instead of Susie, " having reference to a colored girl in the 
 next room. So here 1 am out at sea while my keeper thinks me sound asleep in 
 my room, I send you this letter through the Captain's hands by a tug boat, 
 which will leave us in one half hour. The Captain was aver.se to my writing to 
 >oii until we had been at sea .some time ; but, my darling, I could not sail out 
 onto an unknown sea and leave him whom I do love so dearly in suspense. O, 
 Hiram ! why did I ever cross your path to make you more lonely and unhappy 
 than you have ever been? O, my dear husband, forgive me for the last cruel 
 letter I wrote you — but I couldn't help it when you reflected on my character 
 
 and Judge . But pray, forgive me, my love, and receive the love and 
 
 usDviNi: love of your poor outcast wife. O, Hiram ! I hold out my poor hand.s 
 to you and cry, " Forgive ! Forgive !' ' Will, we ever meet again? Probably 
 not, I fear. O, can I give you up eternally? I do not think I can live long 
 without you. Forget mc and forgive me if you can. I will write to you just 
 as soon as it is safe — if it ever is. I do not know our destination, but know it is 
 either Adelaide or Sidney, New South Wales. I expect to be in Australia or 
 New South Wales in about 197 days, f.ood bye, and God bless you, my darling 
 — my husband— my love. One million kisses — kisses ! 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 Paragraphs from a fetter to my Wife, dated Mount 
 Madonna, Decembsr 19th, 1886. 
 
 It is both amusing and painful to note the curious 
 blunders which creep into your letters. You say — " I do 
 not worship gold. I would be very glad if we had enough 
 of it to make me comfortable; but above that, I would not 
 care for it." A. pen is a treacherous and dangerous thing 
 in the hand of a person who writes from motives of 
 policy, and often reveals the very object which was intended 
 to be concealed. Were your pen writing the dictates of 
 a heart overflowing with love, it would not be apt to com- 
 mit such a blunder as the one I have just pointed out. 
 
 There are several queer expressions in your letters on 
 which I have made no comment; but they have all made 
 impressions on my mind which were not essential to our 
 future happiness. I mention this fact for your own benefit> 
 and hope you will profit by it. Let your pen write only 
 what your heart dictates. Lei your heart be niine, without 
 any hair-cutting ifs or gold-plated ands. Let your 
 actions prove what your words avow, and there will be no 
 more misunderstandings, no more disgraceful quarrels, 
 no more suicidal blunders. The contemplation of suicide 
 even by ike most approved methods is anything but pleasant; 
 in fact the self-destruction of a useful person, by any means, 
 is an unnatural spectacle at which all our mental faculties 
 revolt; but the climax of repulsiveness is only attained 
 when some woman of pleasing accomplishments and 
 lovable qualities goes awkwardly and persistently at work 
 to cut her throat with a pen.