A man rather advanced in years next came in, and taking his seat, wiped his face and gave a deep groan.
“Well, my friend,” said the conjurer, “in what way can I serve you?”
“God knows it's hard to tell that,” he replied—“but I'm troubled.”
“What troubles you?”
“It's a quare world, sir, altogether.”
“There are many strange things in it certainly.”
“That's truth, sir; but the saison's favorable, thank God, and there's every prospect of a fine spring for puttin' down the crops.”
“You are a farmer, then; but why should you feel troubled about what you call a fine season for putting down the crops?”
The man moved uneasily upon his chair, and seemed at a loss how to proceed; the conjurer looked at him, and waited for a little that he might allow him sufficient time to disclose his difficulties.
“There are a great many troubles in this life, sir, especially in married families.”