Punch, or The London Charivari | Page 9

manner as you did in publishing my husband's letter last week!--and such a letter! Oh, I could write such a scathing reply to it!
Of course, it was jealousy on the part of Sir CHARLES at my literary success--(setting aside the wonderful tips)--which caused the explosion that led to his writing to you, but I never--never--thought you would insert his letter, especially as I slipped in a postscript which to my mind explained _everything_--as, indeed, postscripts should do, or what is the good of writing a long letter about nothing in front of them? The wretch confesses that he laughed at my articles until he knew who wrote them, and then thought less of them! Isn't that like a husband?--I won't say like a man, as so few husbands are men!--at least, in the eyes of their wives. The moment a wife does something her husband can't do, he dislikes and pooh-poohs it; whereas, the more accomplishments a husband displays, the more a wife appreciates him, or says so even if she doesn't!--which is a noble falsehood, for how few women are large-minded enough to pretend to admire qualities which they despise because they don't possess them--I'm not sure that this is what I mean, nor do I quite understand it, but it reads well, which is more than Sir CHARLES'S stuff does!
And then his impertinence in proposing to "edit" my letters!--as if anyone could be more capable of doing that than _you_?--(you will observe that it is solely on your account that I am annoyed!)--I could not brook such interference!--I don't know exactly the meaning of "brooking" anything, but I know I wept enough tears of annoyance to form a decent "brook" of themselves! I need hardly tell you that it was a biting sarcasm on my part to suggest that he should finish his letter with a "verse," as I always do--but there--men don't understand sarcasm--(one of our most frequently employed weapons of offence!)--and the poor thing thought I was in earnest, and did it! And what a verse! I could write better with my left hand!
I need scarcely tell you that I have left him--(this is why my address is not to be published)--as I consider my duty to the Public rendered it imperative that I should do so, for I should not think much of any woman who allowed a paltry consideration of domestic obligations to weigh against the pursuit of a career of usefulness.
If, therefore, a vein of sadness and cynicism runs through this letter, you will understand that it does not proceed from any regret at the "breaking up of the happy home," but rather from sorrow at the thought that once again the intellectual superiority of one of the softer sex has not been accepted in the right spirit by the possessor of the weaker mind, to whom she owes obedience!
I trust I have done with Sir CHARLES for ever!--especially if he speaks the truth in saying that "following my tips has ruined him"--for why should any woman burden herself with an impecunious husband? He does not know where I am, and I feel still more secure in my retreat from having just heard that he has engaged the services of several of the most prominent London Detectives to trace me!
Owing no devotion now to Sir CHARLES--who will appreciate the following tender lines with which I close my letter--
O woman! in our hours of ease, Thou art not very hard to please! Thou takest what the gods may send; But, thwarted!--thou wilt turn and rend!
I am able to subscribe myself, dear _Mr. Punch_,
Yours more devotedly than ever,
LADY GAY.
[From internal evidence, we are inclined to believe that this present letter, or the one last week from "Sir CHARLES," is a forgery. In former correspondence Lady GAY mentioned "Lord ARTHUR" as her husband. We pause for an explanation.--ED.]
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PROVERB FOR VOCALISTS, �� PROPOS OF SIR JOSEPH BARNBY'S REMARKS ON ARTICULATION.--"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves."
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Why is pepper essential to the health of the new LORD MAYOR?--Because without "Kn." (cayenne) he would be "ill."
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[Illustration: NATURE AND ART.
_A.R.A._ "BY GEORGE, THIS VIEW'S MAGNIFICENT! I SAY, FLUFFER, YOU REALLY OUGHT TO HAVE THOSE WOODS PAINTED."
_Mr. Fluffer_ (_late in the Upholstery line, retired._) "'M--M. DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD IMPROVE 'EM? WHAT COLOUR, NOW?"]
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LEFT TO THE LADIES.
MY DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Everyone--I mean everyone with a right mind--will sympathise with those nice people at Bristol who have been holding a "Woman's Conference." So kind and thoughtful of them, isn't it? I notice that Lady BATTERSEA gave a spirited account of a Confederation of Temperance of some thirty villages in Norfolk. The dear, good inhabitants are to keep off the allurements