es are well formed, though perhaps the sharpness of his
nose may give to his face in the eyes of some people an air of
insignificance. If so, it is greatly redeemed by his mouth and chin,
of which he is justly proud.

Dr. Proudie may well be said to have been a fortunate man, for he was
not born to wealth, and he is now Bishop of Barchester; nevertheless,
he has his cares. He has a large family, of whom the three eldest
are daughters, now all grown up and fit for fashionable life;--and
he has a wife. It is not my intention to breathe a word against the
character of Mrs. Proudie, but still I cannot think that with all
her virtues she adds much to her husband's happiness. The truth is
that in matters domestic she rules supreme over her titular lord,
and rules with a rod of iron. Nor is this all. Things domestic
Dr. Proudie might have abandoned to her, if not voluntarily,
yet willingly. But Mrs. Proudie is not satisfied with such home
dominion, and stretches her power over all his movements, and will
not even abstain from things spiritual. In fact, the bishop is
hen-pecked.

The archdeacon's wife, in her happy home at Plumstead, knows how to
assume the full privileges of her rank and express her own mind in
becoming tone and place. But Mrs. Grantly's sway, if sway she has,
is easy and beneficent. She never shames her husband; before the
world she is a pattern of obedience; her voice is never loud, nor her
looks sharp: doubtless she values power, and has not unsuccessfully
striven to acquire it; but she knows what should be the limits of a
woman's rule.

Not so Mrs. Proudie. This lady is habitually authoritative to all,
but to her poor husband she is despotic. Successful as has been his
career in the eyes of the world, it would seem that in the eyes of
his wife he is never right. All hope of defending himself has long
passed from him; indeed he rarely even attempts self-justification,
and is aware that submission produces the nearest approach to peace
which his own house can ever attain.

Mrs. Proudie has not been able to sit at the boards and committees
to which her husband has been called by the State, nor, as he often
reflects, can she make her voice heard in the House of Lords. It may
be that she will refuse to him permission to attend to this branch
of a bishop's duties; it may be that she will insist on his close
attendance to his own closet. He has never whispered a word on the
subject to living ears, but he ha