"Mrs. Joseph Smith was the envy of all the wives in the neighborhood. Such a pattern husband as Smith was, to be sure! He never went across the room without hugging his wife first, and language would fail to describe their melancholy partings when he 'tore himself away,' to go down to the store. If the wind got round east after he had left, he always ran back to tell her to put on an extra petticoat; he cut up her food in homœopathic infinitessimal bits, to assist her digestion, and if she wanted an ice-cream or a lobster-salad in the middle of the night, it was forthcoming. Did she have the headache, the blinds were closed, the bell was muffled, and he was the most wretched of Smiths till she was convalescent. He selected her shoe-strings and corset-lacings himself, and when her health was too delicate to admit of her accompanying him to church, he always promised to sit in the middle of the house, so that in case the galleries should fall he needn't be made any flatter than he was by nature.
"The present Mrs. Smith was his fourth wife, and as Joseph had been heard to say, that 'the more he loved his Elenore, the more he loved his Nancy, and the more he loved his Nancy, the more he loved his Julia and Mary,' any one with half an eye, could see how peculiarly felicitious Mrs. Mary Smith's position must be!
"There never was a sweet without a bitter; and so she found out, when Joseph announced to her that he 'must leave the little heaven of her smiles, to go on a short 'business trip.' Mary went into the strongest kind of hysterics, and burnt feathers and sal-volatile couldn't bring her out of them, till he swore on the dictionary to telegraph to her every hour, and carry his life preserver and a box of Russia salve.
"On arriving at the depot, a gentleman requested leave 'to place a lady under his protection,' who was travelling in the same direction. Smith looked at her; she was young and pretty, and dressed in deep mourning. 'A widow!' said Smith to himself. 'Certainly, sir, with pleasure.'
"How they did get on! With opening and shutting the windows in the cars, pulling that travelling shawl round the pretty shoulders that wouldn't keep it up, and trying to quiet her nerves when the cars went through 'the dark places,' Smith didn't know any more than you whether they were travelling through France or Spain, and what's more, he didn't care!
"Arriving at their place of destination much sooner than was necessary, (conductors and engineers have no bowels of mercy,) he escorted the widow to the house of her friend, taking the most disinterested care of the big and little bandboxes, and was strongly tempted to put an end to the life of the little poodle-dog she carried in her arms.
"An hour after, he sat down in his lonely quarters at the hotel, and dutifully drew towards him a sheet of paper to write to his wife. It ran as follows:—
"'My Dearest Wife: If you knew how utterly desolate I am without you. I can think of nothing else, and feel entirely unfitted for business. As for pleasure, that is out of the question, without you. I've been bored to death with the care of an empty-headed woman—(you know I couldn't refuse, my angel); but I never will be hampered so again. I long for the day that will return me to your arms. Your loving husband,
"'J. S——.'