He gave in. He thought as the campaigner was coming the mischief was done; and he would be equally willing now to receive all the rest of the family; even Carry and her military husband, if it was suggested that they should all be invited; and the green parrot, too, the Persian cats, and all the other pets of My Lady's. He succumbed hopelessly, and was thenceforth a pecked man. I remember once coming across a little Oriental anecdote which lays particular stress on the relations of connubial folk. Pity that Pringle was not acquainted with it before he committed himself. The story runs as follows:--Once upon a time a gay young fellow married the widow of a great Khan--the scene is laid in Persia. On the wedding night the lady determined to assert her authority, and show who was the real lord and master. She accordingly treated her spouse with great contempt when he entered the ante-room, where she was seated on rose-leaf cushions caressing a large white cat, of which she pretended to be very fond indeed. She appeared very much annoyed at her husband's entrance, and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes with cold disdain as he came in. "I hate cats," observed the young husband, blandly, as if he were only making a casual observation; "they offend my sight." If his wife had looked at him with glances of cold disdain before, her eyes now wore an expression of anger and contempt, such as no words can express. She did not even deign to answer him, but took the cat to her bosom and fondled it passionately: her whole heart seemed to be in the cat, and cold was the shoulder that she turned to her husband. "When any one offends me," continued her gallant, gaily, "I cut off his head. It is a peculiarity of mine which I am sure will only make me dearer to you." Then, drawing his sword, he took the cat gently but firmly from her arms, cut off its head, wiped the blade, sheathed it, and sitting down continued to talk affectionately to his wife as if nothing had happened. After which, says tradition, she became the best and most submissive wife in the world. A hen-pecked fellow, meeting him the next day as he rode with a gallant train through the market place, began to condole with him. "Ah!" said the hen-pecked one with deep feeling, "you, too, have taken a wife, and got a tyrant. You had better have remained the poor soldier that you were. I pity you from my very heart!" "Not so," replied the other, jollily; "keep your sighs to cool yourself next summer." He then related the events of his wedding night with their satisfactory results. The hen-pecked man listened attentively, and pondered long. "I also have a sword," said he, "though it is rusty, and my wife is likewise fond of cats. I will cut off the head of my wife's favourite cat at once." He did so, and received a sound beating. His wife, moreover, made him go down upon his knees and tell her what djinn, or evil spirit, had prompted him to do the bloody deed.