THE COMING WIFE.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2081, 4 September 1875, Page 4

THE COMING WIFE.

She's a little bit of a woman, all patience and sunshine, and I'd spoil the best silk hat that money could buy for privilege of lending her my umbrella in a rain storm. She's married, and she's got an old rhinoceros of a husband. He makes it a practice to come home tight at 11 o'clock every other night, and has for years, and he can't remember that she ever gave him a cross word about it. When he falls into the hall she is waiting to close the door and help him into the sittingroom, where a good fire awaits him. She draws off his boots, unbuttons his collar, and all the time she is saying— "Poor Henry? How sorry I am that you had this attack of vertigo! lam afraid that you will be found dead by the roadside some night." " Whazzer mean by vershigo ?" he growls. But she helps him off with his vest, and pleasantly continues —"I'm so glad you got home all right! I hope the day will come when you can pass more of your time at home. It is dreadful how your business drives you." "Whaz bizsness ? Whaz you talking 'bout ?'' he replies. " Poor one! How hot your head is !" she continues. And presently he breaks down and weeps, and exclains — "Tez, zur—zic's a 'orse—wearing zelf out fast's can. Wishzi was dead!'' Next morning she never refers to the subject, but pleasantly inquires how he slept, and if his mind is clear. His boots may be missing, and he yells out —" Where'n thunder's my boots ? " " Here, dear," she replies. And she hands them out, all nicely blacked up. If she wants a dress, or a hat, or a cloak, and he yells out that household expenses are eating him up, she never " sasses " him back, nor tells him that she will write to her mdther and tell her just how it is. "That's so,, my dear ; times are hard," •he says, and gets up just as good a dinner as if he had left her £50. He may come home tight at tea-time, but she is not shocked. She remarks that it is an unexpected pleasure to have him home so early, and she pretends not to notice his stupid look. He sees three chairs where there is but. one, and in trying to sit down on as he thinks the nearest, he strikes the floor like the fall of a derjrick. " Whazzer jaw zhat chair 'way for p" he yells. And (die replies, "It's that hole in the carpet. I knew you would stumble." And she helps him up, and brings him a strong cup of tea. They do not keep a servant, and when cold weather came she never thought of planting herself down in a chair opposite him, and saying, " Now, then, you'll get up and light the fires, or there wont be any lighted. Mark that, old bald-head." No; she didn't resort to any such base and tyrannical measures. When daylight comes, she slips out of bed, makes two fires, warms his socks, and- then, bending over hinr, she whispers—"Arise, darling, and greet the festive morn." He's ill sometimes, and I have known that woman to coax him for two straight hours to to take the doctor's medicine, turn over his pillow 22 times, keep a wet cloth on his' head, pare his corns down, and thenwish she had a quail to make him some soup with. When he gets into a fight down town, and comes home with his ears bitten up and his nose pointing to the north-east, she enquires; how the horse happened to run away with him, and she says she is so thankful he wasn't killed. She has an excuse for everything, and she never admits that any one but herself is to blame, about anything. Lor' bless her 1 I hope she'll slip into heaven, and never be asked a question.-r-American paper.