o the storm. It then assumes the majesty
of "my" before it; is generally more than simple objurgation--it prefaces
a sermon. My candor obliges me to confess that this is the mode in which
the hateful monosyllable is more usually employed by the marital part of
the one flesh; and has something about it of the odious assumption of the
Petruchian _pater familias_--the head of the family--boding, not perhaps
"peace, and love, and quiet life," but certainly "awful rule and right
supremacy." _Ex. gr._

"My dear Jane--I wish you would just put by that everlasting tent-stitch,
and listen to me for a few moments," &c.

"My dear Jane--I wish you would understand me for once--don't think I am
angry-no, but I am hurt. You must consider," &c.

"My dear Jane--I don't know if it is your intention to ruin me; but I
only wish you would do as all other women do who care three straws for
their husbands' property," &c.

"My dear Jane--I wish you to understand that I am the last person in the
world to be jealous; but I'll be d----d if that puppy, Capt. Prettyman,"
&c.

Now, if that same "dear" could be thoroughly raked and hoed out of the
connubial garden, I don't think that the remaining nettles would signify
a button. But even as it was, Parson Dale, good man, would have prized
his garden beyond all the bowers which Spenser and Tasso have sung so
musically, though there had not been a single specimen of "dear," whether
the dear _humilis_, or the dear _superba_; the dear _pallida, rubra_, or
_nigra_; the dear _umbrosa, florens, spicata_; the dear _savis_, or the
dear _horrida_;--no, not a single dear in the whole horticulture of
matrimony which Mrs. Dale had not brought to perfection. But this,
fortunately, was far from being the case--the _dears_ of Mrs. Dale were
only wild flowers after all!

* * * * *

CHAPTER IX.

In the cool of the evening Dr. Riccabocca walked home across the fields.
Mr. and Mrs. Dale had accompanied him half way; and as they now turned
back to the parsonage, they looked behind, to catch a glimpse of the
tall, outlandish figure, winding slowly through the path amidst the waves
of the green corn.

"Poor man!" said Mrs. Dale, feelingly; "and the button was off his
wristband! What a pity he has nobody to take care of him! He seems very
domestic. Don't you think, Charles, it would be a great blessing if we
could get him a good wife?"

"Um," said the Parson; "I doubt if