The Man with a Cork Leg and a Chastened Air—Remarks on Home Government—A Happy Time in Contemplation—A Wife's Prerogatives—What is to Become of the One-Legged Minority?
Yesterday morning, while the main guy of the sanctum was putting some carbolic acid in the paste pot, and unlimbering his genius, and turning his lyre preparatory to yanking loose a few stanzas on the midsummer cucumber, a man with a cork leg, and the chastened air of one who is second lieutenant in the home circle under the able and efficient command of his wife, came softly in and sat down on a volume containing the complete poems of Noah webster.
He waited patiently till he could catch the eye of the speaker, humming softly to himself—
"Green grows the grave by the wild, dashing river
Where sleeps the brave with his arrow and quiver."
When the time had arrived for the lodge to open up unfinished business, communications and new business, he ran his wooden leg through the rounds of a chair and said:
"I desire to make a few remarks on the subject of home government, and the rights a husband may have which his wife is bound to respect."
"Yes; but we don't enter the family circle with our all-pervading influence. We simply attack evils of a public or general nature. You should pour your tale of woe into the ears of an attorney. He will dish out the required balm to you at so much per balm."
"I know, but this is not strictly a case for the courts. It's a case which raises the question of the husband's priority, and agitates the whole social fabric.
"Last week I celebrated my 43d birthday, or I started to celebrate it, and circumstances over which I had no control arose and busted the programme, as mapped out by the committee of arrangements.