"HUSBAND, I have the asthma so bad that I can't breathe." "Well, my dear, I wouldn't try; nobody wants you to."
A BACHELOR editor out West, who had received from the fair hand of a bride, a piece of elegant wedding-cake to dream on, thus gives the result of his experience.
"We put it under the head of our pillow, shut our eyes sweetly as an infant blessed with an easy conscience, and snored prodigiously. The God of dreams gently touched us, and lo! in fancy we were married! Never was a little editor so happy. It was 'my love,' 'dearest,' 'sweetest,' ringing in our ears every moment. Oh! that the dream had broken off here. But no! some evil genius put it into the head of our ducky to have pudding for dinner just to please her lord.
"In a hungry dream, we sat down to dinner. Well, the pudding moment arrived, and a huge slice almost obscured from sight the plate before us.
"'My dear,' said we fondly, 'did you make this?'
"'Glorious--the best bread pudding I ever tasted in my life.'
"'Plum pudding, ducky,' suggested my wife.
"'O, no, dearest, bread pudding. I was always fond of 'em.'
"'Call them bread pudding!' exclaimed my wife, while her lips slightly curled with contempt.
"'Certainly, my dear--reckon I've had enough at the Sherwood House, to know bread pudding, my love, by all means.'
"'Husband--this is really too bad--plum pudding is twice as hard to make as bread pudding, and is more expensive, and is a great deal better. I say this is plum pudding, sir!' and my pretty wife's brow flushed with excitement.
"'My love, my sweet, my dear love,' exclaimed we soothingly, 'do not get angry. I am sure it is very good, if it is bread pudding.'
"'You mean, low wretch,' fiercely replied my wife, in a higher tone, 'you know it's plum pudding.'
"'Then, ma'am, it's so meanly put together and so badly burned, that the devil himself wouldn't know it. I tell you, madam, most distinctly and emphatically, that it is bread pudding and the meanest kind at that.'
"'It is plum pudding,' shrieked my wife, as she hurled a glass of claret in my face, the glass itself tapping the claret from my nose.
"'Bread pudding!' gasped we, pluck to the last, and grasped a roasted chicken by the left leg.
"'Plum pudding!' rose above the din, as I had a distinct perception of feeling two plates smashed across my head.