Sally. 
Vell!  I could’nt stand that!—­If I was you, I’d soon give her warning.

Betty. 
She’s saved me the trouble, by giving me notice this morning.  But—­hush! 
I hear master bawling out for his shaving water—­
Jist tell your missus from me, mine’s everythink as she thought her!

SCENE V.

“How does it fit behind?  O! beautful; I’ve done wonders—­we’ll never trouble the tailors again, I promise them.”

It is the proud boast of some men that they have ‘got a wrinkle.’  How elated then ought this individual to be who has got so many! and yet, judging from the fretful expression of his physiognomy, one would suppose that he is by no means in ‘fit’ of good humour.

His industrious rib, however, appears quite delighted with her handiwork, and in no humour to find the least fault with the loose habits of her husband.  He certainly looks angry, as a man naturally will when his ‘collar’ is up.

She, on the other hand, preserves her equanimity in spite of his unexpected frowns, knowing from experience that those who sow do not always reap; and she has reason to be gratified, for every beholder will agree in her firm opinion, that even that inimitable ninth of ninths—­Stulz, never made such a coat!

In point of economy, we must allow some objections may be made to the extravagant waist, while the cuffs she has bestowed on him may probably be a fair return (with interest) of buffets formerly received.

The tail (in two parts) is really as amusing as any ‘tale’ that ever emanated from a female hand.  There is a moral melancholy about it that is inexpressibly interesting, like two lovers intended for each other, and that some untoward circumstance has separated; they are ‘parted,’ and yet are still ‘attached,’ and it is evident that one seems ‘too long’ for the other.

The ‘goose’ generally finishes the labours of the tailor.  Now, some carping critics may be wicked enough to insinuate that this garb too was finished by a goose!  The worst fate I can wish to such malignant scoffers is a complete dressing from this worthy dame; and if she does not make the wisest of them look ridiculous, then, and not till then, will I abjure my faith in her art of cutting!

And proud ought that man to be of such a wife; for never was mortal ‘suited’ so before!

SCENE VI.

“Catching—­a cold.”

What a type of true philosophy and courage is this Waltonian!

Cool and unmoved he receives the sharp blows of the blustering wind—­as if he were playing dummy to an experienced pugilist.

Although he would undoubtedly prefer the blast with the chill off, he is so warm an enthusiast, in the pursuit of his sport, that he looks with contempt upon the rude and vulgar sport of the elements.  He really angles for love—­and love alone—­and limbs and body are literally transformed to a series of angles!