on the opposite side of the street, gazing
wistfully at us as we sat in the window; but no persuasion induced her
to pay a formal visit more than once a fortnight.

With this striking evidence of my wisdom before me, I grew worldly. I
think that during that short year I possessed a better opinion of myself
and my capacity than ever before or since.

Worse than this, I grew pharisaical. I ventured to pity my less
fortunate neighbors, bound hand and foot to the slavery of
mothers-in-law. I attempted to joke them, and poke them severely in the
ribs with my knuckles, when the magic name was mentioned. So often did
I congratulate myself on the shrewd stroke of genius displayed, that I
fear even her respectability became sadly impaired in my mind, and
depreciated to such an extent that I was gradually led to think of her
irreverently as an "old gal."

"Too much for you, old gal," got to be an exclamation so wonderfully
consoling that, it crept into my sleep, and in those halcyon days I
often waked up by the side of Malinda Jane, muttering the words, "Too
much for you, old gal." Waked up, I think I said. Ah! would I had never
waked up, particularly on the dismal clouds which for a season darkened
my domestic sunshine!

Scarce half a twelvemonth elapsed, ere the retiring disposition of
Malinda Jane seemed to shrink into even greater seclusion. I frequently
found her powerful mind wandering, and her eyes fixed on vacancy. In our
evening walks, which invariably preceded retiring for the night, she
leaned heavily on my arm.

Although the appearance of our daily repasts did not seem to justify it,
the cash demands for market-bills suddenly became enormous; and, when I
expostulated, my reasonable objections only produced tears. An
apparently needless grief had crept into our quiet home, and a lack of
confidence that pained me. For many weeks I helplessly pondered the
unaccountable mystery.

At last (oh that it had taken any shape but that!) the enigma developed
itself. Returning home one day, I had straightened my collar and
smoothed my hair before opening the door (feeling a proper pride in my
personal appearance, these preparations are usually a preliminary step),
when suddenly, just as the portal moved on its hinges, my sense of smell
was saluted with the odorous fumes of gin. From the first suffocating
whiff of this aromatic cordial do I date the commencement of my grief.
Malinda Jane, I knew, never indulged in as much a