Wives at the market did not fetch good prices; the highest I know of, is recorded in _The Times_, September 19, 1797: “An hostler’s wife, in the country, lately fetched twenty-five guineas.” But this was extravagance, as, with the exception of a man who exchanged his wife for an ox, which he sold for six guineas, the next highest quotation is three and a half guineas; but this rapidly dwindled down to shillings, and even pence. In 1881, a wife was sold at Sheffield for a quart of beer; in 1862, another was purchased at Selby Market Cross for a pint; and the _South Wales Daily News_, May 2, 1882, tells us that one was parted with for a glass of ale. Sometimes they were unsaleable, as we learn by the following ballad:-- JOHN HOBBS. A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs! He married Jane Carter, No damsel look’d smarter; But he caught a tartar, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; Yes, he caught a tartar, John Hobbs. He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs! To ’scape from hot water, To Smithfield he brought her; But nobody bought her, Jane Hobbs, Jane Hobbs, They all were afraid of Jane Hobbs. Oh, who’ll buy a wife? says Hobbs, John Hobbs; A sweet pretty wife, says Hobbs. But, somehow, they tell us The wife-dealing fellows Were all of them sellers, John Hobbs, John Hobbs. And none of them wanted Jane Hobbs. The rope it was ready, John Hobbs, John Hobbs. Come, give me the rope, says Hobbs; I won’t stand to wrangle, Myself I will strangle, And hang dingle dangle, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; He hung dingle dangle, John Hobbs. But down his wife cut him, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; But down his wife cut him, John Hobbs; With a few hubble-bubbles, They settled their troubles, Like most married couples, John Hobbs, John Hobbs, Oh, happy shoemaker, John Hobbs! [Illustration] _A WOMAN NEVER KNOWS WHEN HER DAY’S WORK’S DONE._ NOW just attend to me, Married men of all degree, While I tell you the vicissitudes of life, There’s nothing, understand, Half so pleasing to a man, As a good temper’d, kind, and loving wife. She is always at her work, Tho’ sometimes used like a Turk; Here and everywhere compelled she has to run; While a man can banish care, Drown sorrow and dull care, A woman never knows when her day’s work’s done. _Chorus._ Then just attend to me, To your wives be kind and free, And never mind the clatter of her tongue, If you the truth will speak, You know the live-long week, A woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.