When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. A wedding procession turned the corner. He was silent. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,—nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct—for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us—except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. I shall make no defence. It is like a second honeymoon. ‘Very.
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