Thus it appears that conjugal life, often looked upon with great skepticism by certain unmarried people, too cautious for their own good, as being monotonous in the extreme, is very frequently much the reverse; also that, generally speaking, husbands, especially of advanced age, will agree that they have deserved most of the wifely discipline they have experienced in their married lives, although they may, especially if in a certain part of New England, quote to prospective husbands, from the old time song:
“Ah! young man, how little you know, What trials do from wedlock flow. You have a few days and nights of ease, And then you’ve a scolding wife to please.”
The unusual mental twist which frequently escapes notice in the crowded city, is often the center of interest in a rural neighborhood. Those who thus excite morbid curiosity in their youth are indeed unfortunate and often suffer keenly from the semi-ostracism which sometimes follows. But the elderly who have developed unusual characteristics seem on the contrary to rather pride themselves upon their peculiarities, holding the view of the ancient Quaker who is reported to have said one day to his wife: “Everyone is queer but me and thee; and thee is some queer.”
Of the various minor misfortunes to which the elderly are subject, perhaps deafness is the most to be dreaded. This is illustrated in the case of the elderly country merchant.
Mr. H-- was the prosperous owner of a general store and had about everything he needed except normal hearing. He was deaf, unmistakably deaf, but with the pathetic obstinacy of some thus afflicted, he would not admit it.
Late one afternoon a well-known citizen called at the store on an errand for his wife. Others were waiting as the following transaction was pulled off, and not strange to say, seemed to find it rather amusing.
The storekeeper seemed unusually impressed.
“Freem Parker,” said he. “What’s happened to him?”
Freeman Parker was a well known and popular citizen of the vicinity.
“A half pound of cream tartar, I said,” the customer replied, raising his voice.
“Freem Parker is dead,” said the merchant.
“I want a half pound of CREAM TARTAR,” was the reply in a very loud voice.
“Oh! you want cream tartar, do you,” said the dealer in icy tones.