Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. 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. “Why don’t they wait?” he added. They are their mother’s sons. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. Ludicrously loud sounds streamed from the array of speakers. She pulled, he rose to his feet. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. McClintock.
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