74. 
KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

PUFF-ING HUSBANDS AND PATIENT WIVES. 

JUSTICE sometimes is slow to be matured. 
KORNER. 
ALL MEN HAVE THEIR “ HOBBIES;” and 
they claim a right to them. We cannot 
however see why these “‘ hobbies ” should be 
cultivated at the expense of the women. 
Ther right is just as inalienable; and we 
love to see them stand upon their rights. 
The above remarks are called forth by a 
very interesting little tale, signed “J. W.,” 
which we have just read in our excellent and 
useful contemporary the Family Herald. It 
is headed “ Gloves and Cigars ;” and contains 
a moral which we should like to see stereo- 
typed on the heart of every smoking husband 
in the kingdom. We know many of these 
foul-mouthed fellows, whose consumption of 
smoke is enormous. It is ‘“odd,’’ but as 
certainly true, that smoking husbands are 
always stingy, selfish hunxes. They live for 
themselves only, and care not how their poor 
spouses fare. Nor is it at all uncommon for 
some of them to be largely in debt for their 
filthy luxury—tobacco. On this matter we 
could speak oracularly. But let “a hint” 
suffice, while we tell our tale of smoke :— 
““T must really have a pair of new gloves, 
James,” said Mrs. Morris to her husband, as 
they sat together after tea. 
Mr. Morris had been reading the evening 
paper, but he laid it down and looked crossly 
up. “Really,” he said, ‘ you seem to me to 
waste more money on gloves than any woman 
i ever knew. It was only last week I gave 
you money to buy a new pair.” 
The wite colored, and was about to answer 
tartly ; for she felt that her husband had no 
cause for his crossness; but remembering 
that “a soft answer turneth away wrath,” 
she said, ‘Surely you have forgotten, James. 
It was more than a month since I bought my 
last pair of gloves; and I have been out a 
great deal, as you know, in that time.” 
“ Humph!” said Mr. Morris, taking up 
the paper again. 
For several minutes there was silence. 
The wife continued her sewing, and the hus- 
band read sulkily on; at last, as if sensible 
that he had been unnecessarily harsh, he 
ventured a remark by way of indirect 
apology. 
‘“‘ Business is very dull, Jane,” he said, 
‘Cand sometimes I do not know where to look 
for money. I can scarcely meet my ex- 
penses.” 
The wife looked up with tears in her eyes. 
‘“‘T am sure, James,” she said, “ that I try to 
be as economical as possible. I went with- 
out a new silk dress this winter, because the 
one I got last spring would answer, I thought, 
by having a new body made-to it. My old 
bonnet, too, was re-trimmed. And as to the 
gloves, you know you are very particular 


about my having gloves always nice, and 
scold me if [ appear in the streets with a 
shabby pair on.” 
Mr. Morris knew all this to be true, and 
felt still more ashamed of his conduct ; how- 
ever, like most men, he was too proud to 
confess his error, except indirectly. He took 
out his pocket-book, and said, ‘‘ How much 
will satisfy you for a year; not for gloves 
only, but for all the other etceteras? I will 
make you an allowance; and then you need 
not ask me for money whenever you want a 
pair of gloves or a new handkerchief.” 
The wife’s eyes glistened with delight. 
She thought for a moment, and then said, 
“JT will undertake, on ten pounds, to find my- 
self in all these things.” 
Mr. Morris dropped the newspaper as if it 
had been red-hot, and stared at his wife. 
‘““T believe,” he said, ‘“ you women think that 
we men are made of money. I don’t spend 
ten pounds in gloves and handkerchiefs i 
half-a-dozen years.” 
Mrs. Morris did not reply instantly, for she 
was determined to keep her temper. But 
the quickness with which the needle moved, 
showed that she had some difficulty to be 
amiable. At last she said, “ But how much 
do you spend in cigars ?” 
This was a home-thrust, for Mr. Morris 
was an inveterate smoker; and consumed 
twice as much on this. needless luxury as the 
sum his wife asked. He picked up the paper 
and made no reply. 
“YT don’t wish you to give up smoking, 
since you enjoy it so much,” she said; ‘“ but 
surely cigars are no more necessary to a gen- 
ileman, than are gloves and handkerchiefs to 
a lady ; and if you expend twenty pounds in 
the one, I don’t see why you should complain 
of my wishing ten pounds for the other.” 
“ Pshaw !”’ said her husband, finally; “I 
don’t spend twenty pounds a year in cigars. 
It can’t be.”’ 
“You bring home a box every three weeks; 
and each box, you say, costs about twenty- 
four shillings, which, at the end of the year, 
amounts to more than twenty pounds.” 
Mr. Morris fidgeted on his seat. His wife 
saw her advantage ; and, smiling to herself, 
pursued it. “If you had counted up,” she 
said, “as I have, every shilling you have 
given me for gloves, handkerchiefs, shoes, 
and ribbons, during a year, you would find it 
amounted to ten pounds ; andif you had kept 
a statement of what your cigars cost, you 
would see that [ am correct in my estimate 
as to them.” 
“Twenty pounds! It can’t be,” said the 
husband, determined not to be convinced. 
“‘ Let us make a, bargain,” replied the wife. 
“Put into my hands twenty pounds to buy 
cigars for you, and ten pounds to purchase 
gloves, &c., forme. I promise faithfully to 


