"I _wonder_, will he be High Church or Low."
That I cannot say.
"I _wonder_ what he will do when he finds the county so filled with
Methodists and Methodist chapels."
He will find something to do, I said, if he means to put them down.
"I _wonder_ whether he will put them down," he said.
You need not wonder about that, I rejoined.
"I _wonder_ why?"
Wonder why! He may as well try to put down the Cornish hills into plains
or valleys.
The fact is, one can scarcely speak with any one, or enter any company,
but the first utterance he hears is "I wonder."
Persons wonder what the weather will be; they wonder what time it is;
they wonder who is going to preach on Sunday; they wonder what the
preacher's text will be; they wonder what will be for dinner; they
wonder who will be in the company; they wonder who is going to be
married; they wonder who is dead in the next newspaper. In fine, this
_wonder_ is a wonderful word in almost everybody's lips.
I _wonder_ whether some other mode of expression could not be adopted,
which would either be a substitute for it, or somewhat of variation: so
that the _wonderer_ may not be so common a talker in the circles of
society.
But it is one thing to be _always_ wondering, and quite another thing to
wonder occasionally, when the statement made, or question asked, is of
such a nature as to _require_ or to _demand_ a _wonder_. It is possible
to get into the way of wondering so that you will not know when you do
_wonder_. It is supposed that persons only _wonder_ when things of great
surprise and astonishment are heard, such as the fall of stars, the
overthrow of cities by earthquakes, etc. At the reading or hearing of
such things, it seems natural that persons should _wonder_. But why they
should wonder at almost every trivial thing they ask in ordinary
conversation is to me an inexplicable mystery.
There is another use of the word which I had nearly forgotten. In
American society I remember this word is used in the opposite sense to
what it is in this country.
"I have just come from New York by steamboat, and I saw Mr. Bouser on
board."
"Well; I _wonder_!" is the reply.
"I saw the moon in the sky as I came here this evening."
"I _wonder_!" is the answer.
"Do you know I met a little girl of the Sunday-school in the street?"
"I _wonder_!" said a grave-looking lady.
"Mr. and Miss Lane are going to be married next week by Mr. Sparks."
"I really _wonder_!" was the general exclamation of the company,
although they had heard it before at different times.
This wonderer in America is, if possible, more ludicrous than in
England. In both he is ludicrous; and the sooner he changes into some
other form of talker, more sensible, the better.
XX. THE TERMAGANT.--This is a talker chiefly of the female sex; and it
is in this gender we shall give our sketch.
Jemima, the wife of Job Sykes, was a woman of turbulent and fiery
temper; but he was a man calm and self-possessed. Her tongue was as the
pen of a ready-writer, in the rapidity with which it talked, and as the
point of a needle and the edge of a razor in the keenness of its words.
Sometimes she was loud and boisterous, violent and raging, attacking her
prey as a tigress, rather than as a human being. Sometimes she was
snappish, snarling, waspish. Her husband, her children, her servants,
her neighbours, all came in for their share, in their turn, of her
bites, stings, and poisons.
It was, however, poor Job who fell in for the lion's share. Alas for
him! He often found the words of Solomon to be true: "It is better to
dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious and angry woman" (Prov.
xxi. 19). As there was no wilderness into which he could fly to escape
the tongue of his dear Jemima, he would fly away into a solitary room,
or into the adjoining garden, or into a neighbour's house, or take a
walk in the lonely road,--anywhere to shelter himself from the fiery
droppings of his termagant spouse.
The least imaginable thing that crossed her will or temper would set
Jemima's tongue-machine a-going; and when once started, it rattled away
like a medley of tin, glass, and stones turned in a churn. It threw out
words like razors, darts, fire-brands, scorpions, wasps, mosquitos,
flying helter-skelter in all directions about the head of poor Job, and
he seldom escaped without wounds which lasted for days together. He has
been known to receive cuts and bruises that have prevented his speaking
to his "darling" for weeks in succession.
Mrs. Caudle's lectures to her husband were mild, entertaining, and
instructive to what Job Sykes received from Mrs. Sykes. Mrs. Caudle, I
think, always addressed her beloved in the evening within curtains, when
he was in such a condition of mind and body as rendered him impervious
to the entrance of her loving words; so that he would even go to sleep
under them, as a babe under the soothing lullaby of its mother. But
Job's dear wife fired away at him anywhere, at any time: night or day,
at home or from home, in company or out of company. Given the least
cause, the attack would begin and be carried on until the ammunition was
exhausted.
As we have said, Job was of a quiet disposition, although firm and never
yielding his place to his "weaker vessel;" and he generally found that
silence or "soft answers" were his best weapons.
And so they are in every such case: and if any one of my readers is
afflicted with a wife like Job Sykes' wife, he will find that his policy
is the wisest to follow.
Sometimes a cure is effected in this talker, and the husband rejoices in
the salvation wrought out for him. Sometimes there is no cure excepting
in the paralysis of death. This, too, is salvation to many hen-pecked
husbands, in which they also rejoice. Such has been the mighty
deliverance accomplished for some, that they have even celebrated it by
appropriate epitaphs on the tombstones of their buried partners. The
following is one said to be at Burlington, Massachusetts:--
"Sacred to the memory of Anthony Drake,
Who died for peace and quietness' sake,
His wife was constantly scolding and scoffing,
So he sought repose in a twelve dollar coffin."