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Brundy has left his wife, after two weeks of married life. Brundy is a little man, and his wife weighs two hundred and forty pounds, and was the relict of the late Peter Potts. One morning Brundy was surprised, on awakening, to find his wife sitting up in bed and crying as if her heart would break. He asked the cause of her tears, but received no reply, and began to surmise that 305 there must be some dreadful secret weighing on her mind. He begged that she would tell him the cause of her grief, and promised to do his utmost to avert it. After some coaxing, she related the following sorrowful experience:
“I just had a distressing dream. I thought that I was single, and as I walked through a well-lighted street I came to a store that had a sign in front advertising husbands for sale. Curious to know more about this business, I went in, and saw, ranged along the wall on both sides, men with prices affixed to them. Such beautiful men, — some for a thousand dollars, some for five hundred dollars, and so on, down to one hundred and fifty dollars. I did not buy any, as I had not money enough.”
Brundy placed his arm lovingly around her, and asked —
“And, my dear, did you see any men there like me?”
“Ye-yes,” cried Mrs. Brundy, breaking out into fresh sobs, “l-lots like you: they were t-tied up in bunches, like asparagus, and sold for t-ten cents a bunch.”
Brundy is now anxiously inquiring of his lawyer if he has sufficient grounds for a divorce.
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