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. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal
Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and
failure or survival. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her
knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. Mr. 3. The
wall of St. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy
either.
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