And now I break the seals—for you. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. 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.
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