mrs. bullfrog-第1部分

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MRS。　BULLFROG



It　makes　me　melancholy　to　see　how　like　fools　some　very　sensible

people　act　in　the　matter　of　choosing　wives。　They　perplex　their

judgments　by　a　most　undue　attention　to　little　niceties　of

personal　appearance；　habits；　disposition；　and　other　trifles　which

concern　nobody　but　the　lady　herself。　An　unhappy　gentleman；

resolving　to　wed　nothing　short　of　perfection；　keeps　his　heart　and

hand　till　both　get　so　old　and　withered　that　no　tolerable　woman

will　accept　them。　Now　this　is　the　very　height　of　absurdity。　A

kind　Providence　has　so　skilfully　adapted　sex　to　sex　and　the　mass

of　individuals　to　each　other；　that；　with　certain　obvious

exceptions；　any　male　and　female　may　be　moderately　happy　in　the

married　state。　The　true　rule　is　to　ascertain　that　the　match　is

fundamentally　a　good　one；　and　then　to　take　it　for　granted　that

all　minor　objections；　should　there　be　such；　will　vanish；　if　you

let　them　alone。　Only　put　yourself　beyond　hazard　as　to　the　real

basis　of　matrimonial　bliss；　and　it　is　scarcely　to　be　imagined

what　miracles；　in　the　way　of　recognizing　smaller　incongruities；

connubial　love　will　effect。



For　my　own　part　I　freely　confess　that；　in　my　bachelorship；　I　was

precisely　such　an　over…curious　simpleton　as　I　now　advise　the

reader　not　to　be。　My　early　habits　had　gifted　me　with　a　feminine

sensibility　and　too　exquisite　refinement。　I　was　the　accomplished

graduate　of　a　dry　goods　store；　where；　by　dint　of　ministering　to

the　whims　of　fine　ladies；　and　suiting　silken　hose　to　delicate

limbs；　and　handling　satins；　ribbons；　chintzes　calicoes；　tapes；

gauze；　and　cambric　needles；　I　grew　up　a　very　ladylike　sort　of　a

gentleman。　It　is　not　assuming　too　much　to　affirm　that　the　ladies

themselves　were　hardly　so　ladylike　as　Thomas　Bullfrog。　So

painfully　acute　was　my　sense　of　female　imperfection；　and　such

varied　excellence　did　I　require　in　the　woman　whom　I　could　love；

that　there　was　an　awful　risk　of　my　getting　no　wife　at　all；　or　of

being　driven　to　perpetrate　matrimony　with　my　own　image　in　the

looking…glass。　Besides　the　fundamental　principle　already　hinted

at；　I　demanded　the　fresh　bloom　of　youth；　pearly　teeth；　glossy

ringlets；　and　the　whole　list　of　lovely　items；　with　the　utmost

delicacy　of　habits　and　sentiments；　a　silken　texture　of　mind；　and；

above　all；　a　virgin　heart。　In　a　word；　if　a　young　angel　just　from

paradise；　yet　dressed　in　earthly　fashion；　had　come　and　offered　me

her　hand；　it　is　by　no　means　certain　that　I　should　have　taken　it。

There　was　every　chance　of　my　becoming　a　most　miserable　old

bachelor；　when；　by　the　best　luck　in　the　world；　I　made　a　journey

into　another　state；　and　was　smitten　by；　and　smote　again；　and

wooed；　won；　and　married；　the　present　Mrs。　Bullfrog；　all　in　the

space　of　a　fortnight。　Owing　to　these　extempore　measures；　I　not

only　gave　my　bride　credit　for　certain　perfections　which　have　not

as　yet　come　to　light；　but　also　overlooked　a　few　trifling　defects；

which；　however；　glimmered　on　my　perception　long　before　the　close

of　the　honeymoon。　Yet；　as　there　was　no　mistake　about　the

fundamental　principle　aforesaid；　I　soon　learned；　as　will　be

seen；　to　estimate　Mrs。　Bullfrog's　deficiencies　and　superfluities

at　exactly　their　proper　value。



The　same　morning　that　Mrs。　Bullfrog　and　I　came　together　as　a

unit；　we　took　two　seats　in　the　stage…coach　and　began　our　journey

towards　my　place　of　business。　There　being　no　other　passengers；　we

were　as　much　alone　and　as　free　to　give　vent　to　our　raptures　as　if

I　had　hired　a　hack　for　the　matrimonial　jaunt。　My　bride　looked

charmingly　in　a　green　silk　calash　and　riding　habit　of　pelisse

cloth；　and　whenever　her　red　lips　parted　with　a　smile；　each　tooth

appeared　like　an　inestimable　pearl。　Such　was　my　passionate　warmth

thatwe　had　rattled　out　of　the　village；　gentle　reader；　and　were

lonely　as　Adam　and　Eve　in　paradiseI　plead　guilty　to　no　less

freedom　than　a　kiss。　The　gentle　eye　of　Mrs。　Bullfrog　scarcely

rebuked　me　for　the　profanation。　Emboldened　by　her　indulgence；　I

threw　back　the　calash　from　her　polished　brow；　and　suffered　my

fingers；　white　and　delicate　as　her　own；　to　stray　among　those　dark

and　glossy　curls　which　realized　my　daydreams　of　rich　hair。



〃My　love；〃　said　Mrs。　Bullfrog　tenderly；　〃you　will　disarrange　my

curls。〃



〃Oh；　no；　my　sweet　Laura！〃　replied　I；　still　playing　with　the

glossy　ringlet。　〃Even　your　fair　hand　could　not　manage　a　curl　more

delicately　than　mine。　I　propose　myself　the　pleasure　of　doing　up

your　hair　in　papers　every　evening　at　the　same　time　with　my　own。〃



〃Mr。　Bullfrog；〃　repeated　she；　〃you　must　not　disarrange　my　curls。〃



This　was　spoken　in　a　more　decided　tone　than　I　had　happened　to

hear；　until　then；　from　my　gentlest　of　all　gentle　brides。　At　the

same　time　she　put　up　her　hand　and　took　mine　prisoner；　but　merely

drew　it　away　from　the　forbidden　ringlet；　and　then　immediately

released　it。　Now；　I　am　a　fidgety　little　man；　and　always　love　to

have　something　in　my　fingers；　so　that；　being　debarred　from　my

wife's　curls；　I　looked　about　me　for　any　other　plaything。　On　the

front　seat　of　the　coach　there　was　one　of　those　small　baskets　in

which　travelling　ladies　who　are　too　delicate　to　appear　at　a

public　table　generally　carry　a　supply　of　gingerbread；　biscuits

and　cheese；　cold　ham；　and　other　light　refreshments；　merely　to

sustain　nature　to　the　journey's　end。　Such　airy　diet　will

sometimes　keep　them　in　pretty　good　flesh　for　a　week　together。

Laying　hold　of　this　same　little　basket；　I　thrust　my　hand　under

the　newspaper　with　which　it　was　carefully　covered。



〃What's　this；　my　dear？〃　cried　I；　for　the　black　neck　of　a　bottle

had　popped　out　of　the　basket。



〃A　bottle　of　Kalydor；　Mr。　Bullfrog；〃　said　my　wife；　coolly　taking

the　basket　from　my　hands　and　replacing　it　on　the　front　seat。



There　was　no　possibility　of　doubting　my　wife's　word；　but　I　never

knew　genuine　Kalydor；　such　as　I　use　for　my　own　complexion；　to

smell　so　much　like　cherry　brandy。　I　was　about　to　express　my　fears

that　the　lotion　would　injure　her　skin；　when　an　accident　occurred

which　threatened　more　than　a　skin…deep　injury。　Our　Jehu　had

carelessly　driven　over　a　heap　of　gravel　and　fairly　capsized　the

coach；　with　the　wheels　in　the　air　and　our　heels　where　our　heads

should　have　been。　What　became　of　my　wits　I　cannot　imagine；　they

have　always　had　a　perverse　trick　of　deserting　me　just　when　they

were　most　needed；　but　so　it　chanced；　that　in　the　confusion　of　our

overthrow　I　quite　forgot　that　there　was　a　Mrs。　Bullfrog　in　the

world。　Like　many　men's　wives；　the　good　lady　served　her　husband　as

a　steppingstone。　I　had　scrambled　out　of　the　coach　and　was

instinctively　settling　my　cravat；　when　somebody　brushed　roughly

by　me；　and　I　heard　a　smart　thwack　upon　the　coachman's　ear。



〃Take　that；　you　villain！〃　cried　a　strange；　hoarse　voice。　〃You

have　ruined　me；　you　blackguard！　I　shall　never　be　the　woman　I　have

been！〃



And　then　came　a　second　thwack；　aimed　at　the　driver's　other　ear；

but　which　missed　it；　and　hit　him　on　the　nose；　causing　a　terrible

effusion　of　blood。　Now；　who　or　what　fearful　apparition　was

inflicting　this　punishment　on　the　poor　fellow　remained　an

impenetrable　mystery　to　me。　The　blows　were　given　by　a　person　of

grisly　aspect；　with　a　head　almost　bald；　and　sunken　cheeks；

apparently　of　the　feminine　gender；　though　hardly　to　be　classed　in

the　gentler　sex。　There　being　no　teeth　to　modulate　the　voice；　it

had　a　mumbled　fierceness；　not　passionate；　but　stern；　which

absolutely　made　me　quiver　like　calf's…foot　jelly。　Who　could　the

phantom　be？　The　most　awful　circumstance　of　the　affair　is　yet　to

be　told：　for　this　ogre；　or　whatever　it　was；　had　a　riding　habit

like　Mrs。　Bullfrog's；　and　also　a　green　silk　calash　dangling　down

her　back　by　the　strings。　In　my　terror　and　turmoil　of　mind　I　could

imagine　nothing　less　than　that　the　Old　Nick；　at　the　moment　of　our

overturn；　had　annihilated　my　wife　and　jumped　into　her　petticoats。

This　idea　seemed　the　most　probable；　since　I　could　nowhere

perceive　Mrs。　Bullfrog　alive；　nor；　though　I　looked　very　sharply

about　the　coach；　could　I　detect　any　traces　of　that　beloved

woman's　dead　body。　There　would　have　been　a　comfort　in　giving　her

Christian　burial。



〃Come；　sir；　bestir　yourself！　Help　this　rascal　to　set　up　the

coach；〃　sai　the　hobgoblin　to　me；　then；　with　a　terrific　screech　at

three　countrymen　at　a　distance；　〃Here；　you　fellows；　ain't　you

ashamed　to　stand　off　when　a　poor　woman　is　in　distress？〃



The　countrymen；　instead　of　fleeing　for　their　lives；　came　running

at　full　speed；　and　laid　hold　of　the　topsy…turvy　coach。　I；　also；

though　a　small…sized　man；　went　to　work　like　a　son　of　Anak。　The

coachman；　too；　with　the　blood　still　streaming　from　his　nose；

tugged　and　toiled　most　manfully；　dreading；　doubtless；　that　the

next　blow　might　break　his　head。　And　yet；　bemauled　as　the　poor

fellow　had　been；　he　seemed　to　glance　at　me　with　an　eye　of　pity；

as　if　my　case　were　more　deplorable　than　his。　But　I　cherished　a

hope　that　all　would　turn　out　a　dream；　and　seized　the　opportunity；

as　we　raised　the　coach；　to　jam　two　of　my　fingers　under　the　wheel；

trusting　that　the　pain　would　awaken　me。



〃Why；　here　we　are；　all　to　rights　again！〃　exclaimed　a　sweet　voice

behind。　〃Thank　you　for　your　assistance；　gentlemen。　My　dear　Mr。

Bullfrog；　how　you　perspire！　Do　let　me　wipe　your　face。　Don't　take

this　little　accident　too　much　to　heart；　good　driver。　We　ought　to

be　thankful　that　none　of　our　necks　are　broken。〃



〃We　might　have　spared　one　neck　out　of　the　three；〃　muttered　the

driver；　rubbing　his　ear　and　pulling　his　nose；　to　ascertain

whether　he　had　been　cuffed　or　not。　〃Why；　the　woman's　a　witch！〃



I　fear　that　the　reader　will　not　believe；　yet　it　is　positively　a

fact；　that　there　stood　Mrs。　Bullfrog；　with　her　glossy　ringlets

curling　on　her　brow；　and　two　rows　of　orient　pearls　gleaming

between　her　parted　lips；　which　wore　a　most　angelic　smile。　She　had

regained　her　riding　habit　and　calash　from　the　grisly　phantom；　and

was；　in　all　respects；　the　lovely　woman　who　ha