JACK SPRAT could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean;
And so between them both,
They licked the platter clean.
JACK SPRAT was a near neighbor to the Poet. He was a remarkably delicate
man, cadaverous and thin. A dyspeptic, always ailing, he was a subject
of pity for his friends, and of wonder to his acquaintances. But behold
the eternal fitness of things. Providence blessed him with a wife, his
opposite in every respect. When extremes meet, a perfect whole is the
result; and in this case it was a perfect marriage, fit to be sung by
poets and embalmed in verse.
When JACK SPRAT met SALLY STUBBS, at a husking party, she took his eye,
and kept it. She filled his heart completely. A rosy-cheeked, buxom
lass, healthy and hearty, dimples and dumplings combined, she captivated
and carried, by sheer force of weight, the delicate soul of poor JACK.
It was a case of latitude against longitude; strength against weakness,
smiles against tears, laughter against groans. And so the poor fellow,
feeling an unacknowledged desire to find some one able to support and
protect him, yielded to the advice of his friends and his own
inclinations, and laid his attenuated hand, with his poor little heart
in it, at the fat feet of fair SALLY STUBBS.
He was smiled upon, broad-grinned upon, and accepted; and thereby
rendered for the nonce the happiest of men. Tradition has it that the
next day he actually ate a hearty dinner, and did not complain of his
digestion immediately after. But this is considered doubtful by many.
Fair SALLY, overflowing with the milk of human kindness, and yearning in
her soul to bestow her attentions and corporosity upon JACK'S
attenuosity, urged matters onward, and the wedding day was fixed, the
ring bought, and delicate Mr. SPRAT was led to the altar like a sheep to
the slaughter.
Tremblingly he advanced up the aisle of the village church, leading his
blushing and waddling bride, and took his place, looking like an
exclamation point alongside a parenthesis, before the black-robed
Priest, who speedily put an end to Miss STUBBS, and presented JACK with
a female SPRAT.
Mrs. SPRAT blushed like a full-blown peony as JACK manfully and
courageously saluted her upon one rosy cheek, in the presence of the
assembled guests, and then, to cover her confusion, she giggled and
shook hands energetically with the company, telling JACK to "hold up his
head and do the same, for it was _com eel fut_, and he must try to be
fashionable at his own wedding."
The Bride carried off the honors manfully, and after the first few
moments recovered from her embarrassment, and appeared as much at ease
as if getting married was an every-day affair, not worth minding. JACK
couldn't get over it so readily, and his teeth chattered till late in
the night. But they stopped after a while; so I am told.
We pass over the first few days devoted to honey-mooning, and look in
upon them as they sit at dinner. He with his greyhound and she with her
cat, both animals attentively watching each morsel that disappears from
their longing gaze into the capacious mouth of master or mistress.
Notice with what dexterity and generosity Mr. SPRAT selects the fattest
parts and skilfully conveys them to Madam's plate, reserving the lean
for himself; occasionally throwing a bone to his dog, while the lady now
and then bestows a fat bit upon Puss, who slowly licks her lips and
winks for more. It is a cozy scene of quiet domestic bliss, and so
continues till the platter is empty; when, both feeling satisfied for
the time, they lean back in their respective chairs, and gaze
complacently upon their pets, each other, and the empty dishes.
Their wonderful congeniality and quiet happiness became the subject of
wonder to their friends, and of comment and speculation to the village
gossips. Her oleaginous and feather-bed-like disposition compelled peace,
as oil upon the waves, and shed trouble as a duck sheds water. JACK and
his complainings never troubled her; she merely laughed when he groaned,
and offered to rub his back. But he, fearing the ponderosity of her
hand, rarely submitted; his spinal column being delicate, he dared not
risk it.
Village gossips tell many little incidents connected with the married
life of the twain, which would be invidious to mention here. Suffice it
to say that they were considered fit subjects for the ever-ready pen of
the Poet to seize upon and perpetuate in never-dying verse, for the
benefit of posterity. That the Poet was right in his surmises, we have
only to look around and ascertain how many learned people of all grades
have treasured up in their memory, from infancy, the history of JACK
SPRAT and his wife.
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