Trear that the reader will not believe, yet it is a fact, that there stood Mis Hotfrog, with her glowy ringlets curling
on her brow, and two rows of orient pearls gleaming between her parted lips, which wore a most angelicamie She had regained her riding habit and
phantom, and was, in all respect, the lovely woman who had been sitting by my side at the
instant at our overtur. How she had
and who had supplied her place, and whence she did now return, were
for me to solve. There stood my wife. That was the one thing certain among a heap of mysteries,
Nothing remained out to help her into the coach, and plod on, through the journey of the day and the journey of life,
As the driver closed the door upon us, I heard him whisper to the three countrymen, "How do you suppose a
Follow feels shut up in the cage with a
could have no reference to my situation. Yet, unreasonable as it may appear, I confess that my
feelings were not altogether so
as when I first called Mis Bottfrog mine, True, she was a sweet woman and an
angel of a wife, but what if a Gorgon should return, amid the transports of our
and take the angel's place. I
recollected the tale of a fairy, who hat the time was a beautiful woman and all the time a hideous monster Had taken that very fairy to be the wife
were fitting across my fancy I began to look a kance at Mis, Butthog, almost
especting that the transformation would be wrought before my eyes