From looking up to me too much she contracted an
affection of the spine, and died about nine months ago. Now, sir, be
good enough to run your eye over this Epitaph, which I have composed for
the monument now erecting to her memory."
Mr. BUMSTEAD, rousing from a doze for the purpose, fixes glassy eyes
upon the slip of paper held out to him, and reads as follows:
MARY ANN,
Unlitigating and Unliterary Wife of
HIS HONOR, JUDGE SWEENEY.
In the darkest hours of
Her Husband's fortunes
She was never once tempted to Write for
THE TRIBUNE, THE INDEPENDENT, or THE RIVERSIDE MAGAZINE:
Nor did even a disappointment about a
new bonnet ever induce her to
threaten her husband with
AN INDIANA DIVORCE.
STRANGER, PAUSE,
and consider if thou canst say
the same about
THINE OWN WIFE!
If not,
WITH A RUSH RETIRE.
Mr. BUMSTEAD, affected to tears, interspersed with nods, by his reading,
has barely time to mutter that such a wife was too good to live long in
these days, when the servant announces that "MCLAUGHLIN has come, sir.
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