"Do you hate the cap so much that you hate me because I wear it?" she inquired in turn.
"I have just cause to hate this cap, and I don't want to hate you for the same reason. Promise not to wear it while I am away."
"No, I will not promise—you must not be so quarrelsome."
"I will show you why you ought not wear it. Here, read this letter I received from Nimeguen."
I took the letter from my pocket, and gave it to her. Her face took on the hue of her cap as she read, and when she had finished, she stamped her foot, tore the letter into bits and flung them over the downs, exclaiming:
"Now, I shall wear the cap for spite."
"No, you shall not wear it," I cried, beside myself with rage.
I tore the cap from her head and flung it after the letter. What followed, the honorable gentlemen of the court will be able to conjecture after I have described my wife's figure and disposition.
In Holland, as well as in some other portions of the globe, married people occasionally disagree; but I believe that only in Holland is it the husband who goes to a justice of the peace with a blackened eye to substantiate a complaint against his wife.
My spouse was no exception to her fellow-countrywomen. Taller by half a head than I, broad-shouldered and with a powerful chest, she could hold at arm's length a small child seated on her hand—and it was a hand, too, that would render superfluous a visam repertum, if it came in contact with a human face!