The word husband literally means the bands of the house, the person who keeps it together as the band keeps a sheaf of grain together. There are today many married men who are not husbands, because they are not the band of the house.—The Biblical Illustrator
"Is she making him a good wife?"
"Well, not exactly; but she's making him a good husband."
A husband and wife ran a freak show in a certain provincial town, but unfortunately they quarreled, and the exhibits were equally divided between them. The wife decided to continue business as an exhibitor at the old address, but the husband went on a tour.
After some years' wandering the prodigal returned, and a reconciliation took place, as the result of which they became business partners once more. A few mornings afterward the people of the neighborhood were sent into fits of laughter on reading the following notice in the papers:
"By the return of my husband my stock of freaks has been permanently increased."
An eminent German scientist who recently visited this country with a number of his colleagues was dining at an American house and telling how much he had enjoyed various phases of his visit.
"How did you like our railroad trains?" his host asked him.
"Ach, dhey are woonderful," the German gentleman replied; "so swift, so safe chenerally—und such luxury in all dhe furnishings und opp'indmends. All is excellent excebt one thing—our wives do not like dhe upper berths."
A couple of old grouches at the Metropolitan Club in Washington were one night speaking of an old friend who, upon his marriage, took up his residence in another city. One of the grouches had recently visited the old friend, and, naturally, the other grouch wanted news of the Benedict.
"Is it true that he is henpecked?" asked the second grouch.
"I wouldn't say just that," grimly responded the first grouch, "but I'll tell you of a little incident in their household that came within my observation. The very first morning I spent with them, our old friend answered the letter carrier's whistle. As he returned to us, in the breakfast room, he carried a letter in his hand. Turning to his wife, he said:
"'A letter for me, dear. May I open it?'"—Edwin Tarrisse.
"Your husband says he leads a dog's life," said one woman.
"Yes, it's very similar," answered the other. "He comes in with muddy feet, makes himself comfortable by the fire, and waits to be fed."
NEIGHBOR—"I s'pose your Bill's 'ittin' the 'arp with the hangels now?"
LONG-SUFFERING WIDOW—"Not 'im. 'Ittin' the hangels wiv the 'arp's nearer 'is mark!"
"You say you are your wife's third husband?" said one man to another during a talk.
"No, I am her fourth husband," was the reply.
"Heavens, man!" said the first man; "you are not a husband—you're a habit."
MR. HENPECK—"Is my wife going out, Jane?"
MR. HENPECK—"Do you know if I am going with her?"
A happily married woman, who had enjoyed thirty-three years of wedlock, and who was the grandmother of four beautiful little children, had an amusing old colored woman for a cook.
One day when a box of especially beautiful flowers was left for the mistress, the cook happened to be present, and she said: "Yo' husband send you all the pretty flowers you gits, Missy?"
"Certainly, my husband, Mammy," proudly answered the lady.
"Glory!" exclaimed the cook, "he suttenly am holdin' out well."
An absent-minded man was interrupted as he was finishing a letter to his wife, in the office. As a result, the signature read:
Your loving husband,
HOPKINS BROS.—Winifred C. Bristol.
Mrs. McKinley used to tell of a colored widow whose children she had helped educate. The widow, rather late in life, married again.
"How are you getting on?" Mrs. McKinley asked her a few months after her marriage.
"Fine, thank yo', ma'am," the bride answered.
"And is your husband a good provider?"
"'Deed he am a good providah, ma'am," was the enthusiastic reply. "Why, jes' dis las' week he got me five new places to wash at."
"I suffer so from insomnia I don't know what to do."
"Oh, my dear, if you could only talk to my husband awhile."
"Did Hardlucke bear his misfortune like a man?"
"Exactly like one. He blamed it all on his wife."—Judge.
A popular society woman announced a "White Elephant Party." Every guest was to bring something that she could not find any use for, and yet too good to throw away. The party would have been a great success but for the unlooked-for development which broke it up. Eleven of the nineteen women brought their husbands.
A very man—not one of nature's clods—
With human failings, whether saint or sinner:
Endowed perhaps with genius from the gods
But apt to take his temper from his dinner.—J. G. Saxe.