Staunton Spectator, And General Advertiser

MISCELLANY.
A WIFE WORTH HAVING.

The distinguished William Wirt, within six or eight months after his first marriage, became addicted to intemperance, the effect of which operated strongly upon the mind and health of his wife, and in a few months more she was numbered with the dead. Her death led him to leave the country where he resided. and remove to Richmond, where he soon rose to distinction. But his habits hung about him, and occasionally he was found in jolly and frolicsome spirits in bacchanalian revelry.

His true friends expostulated with him, to convince him of the injury he was doing himself. But he still persisted. His practice began to fall off, and many looked upon him as on the sure road to ruin. He was advised to get married, with a view of correcting his habits. This he consented to do, if the right person offered. He accordingly paid his addresses to a Miss Gamble. After some months' attentions, he asked her hand in marriage. She replied:

'Mr. Wirt, I have been well aware of your intentions for some time back, and should have given you to understand that your visits and attentions were not acceptable, had I not reciprocated the affection which you evinced for me. But I cannot yield my assent until you make a pledge never to taste, touch or handle any intoxicating drinks?'

This reply to Mr. Wirt was as unexpected as it was novel. His reply was, that he regarded the proposition as a bar to all further consideration of the subject, and left her. Her course to him was the same as ever—his, resentment and neglect. In the course of a few weeks, he went again, and again solicited her hand. But her reply was, her mind was made up. He became indignant and regarded the terms proposed as insulting to his honor, and avowed it should be the last meeting they should ever have. He took to drinking worse and worse, and seemed to run headlong to ruin.

One day, while lying in the outskirts of the city, near a little grocery or grog-shop, dead drunk, a young lady, who it is not necessary to name, in passing that way to her home, not far off, beheld him with his face upturned to the rays of the scorching sun. She took her handkerchief, with her own name marked upon it, and placed it over his face. After he had remained in that way for some hours, he was awakened, and his thirst being so great, he went into the little grocery or grog-shop to get a drink, when he discovered the handkerchief, which he looked at, and the name that was on it. After pausing a few minutes, he exclaimed:--

Great God! who left this with me? Who placed it on my face?' No one knew. He dropped his glass, exclaiming:

Enough! enough!

He retired instantly from the grocery, forgetting his thirst, but not the debauch, the handkerchief or the lady—vowing, if God gave him strength, never to touch, taste or handle intoxicating drinks.

To meet Miss G. was the hardest effort of his life. If he met her in her carriage or on foot, he would dodge the nearest corner. She at last addressed him a note under her own hand, inviting him to the house, which he finally gathered courage enough to accept. He told her if she still bore affection for him, he would agree to her own terms. Her reply was:-

My conditions now are what they ever have been?

'Then,' said the disenthralled Wirt, 'I accept them.'

They were soon married, and from that day he kept his word, and his affairs brightened, while honors and glory gathered thick upon his brow. His name has been enrolled high in the temple of fame, while his deeds, his patriotism and renown, live after him with imperishable lustre. How many noble minds might the young ladies save, if they would follow the example of the heroine-hearted Miss G., the friend of humanity, of her country, and the relative of La Fayette.—Temperance Advocate.