"There was my Shprintze Niepritshkes; she also had a good heart and was given to scolding. Every time I sent one of the children out into the world she wept like a beaver, although at home she left them no peace with her scolding tongue. And when a death happened in the family!" he went on remembering. "Why, she used to throw herself about on the floor whole days like a snake and bang her head with her fists." "One day she wanted to throw a stone at heaven. "We see," he thought, "how little notice God takes of a woman's foolishness. But with her there was no taking away the bier and the corpse. She slapped the women and tore the beards of the men. "She was a fine woman, was Shprintze. Looked like a fly, and was strong, so strong. Yet she was a good woman--she didn't dislike _me_ even, although she never gave me a kind word. "She wanted a divorce--a divorce. Otherwise she would run away. Only, when was that?" He remembers and smiles. It was a long, long time ago; at that time the excise regulations were still in force, and he was a night watchman, and went about all night with an iron staff, so that no brandy should be smuggled into the town. He knew what service was! To serve with Phonye was good discipline; he had had good teachers. It was a winter's morning before daybreak, he went to have his watch relieved by Chaïm Yoneh--he is in the world of truth now--and then went home, half-frozen and stiff. He knocked at the door and Shprintze called out from her bed: "Into the ground with you! I thought your dead body would come home some time!" Oho! she is angry still, because of yesterday. He cannot remember what happened, but so it must be. "Shut your mouth and open the door!" he shouts. "I'll open your head for you!" is the swift reply. "Let me in!" "Go into the ground, I tell you!" And he turned away and went into the house-of-study, where he lay down to sleep under the stove. As ill-luck would have it, it was a charcoal stove, and he was suffocated and brought home like a dead man. Then Shprintze was in a way! He could hear, after a while, how she was carrying on. They told her it was nothing--only the charcoal. No! she must have a doctor. She threatened to faint, to throw herself into the water, and went on screaming: "My husband! My treasure!" He pulled himself together, sat up, and asked quietly: "Shprintze, do you want a divorce?" "May you be--" she never finished the curse, and burst into tears. "Shemaiah, do you think God will punish me for my cursing and my bad temper?" But no sooner was he well again, there was the old Shprintze back. A mouth on wheels, a tongue on screws, and strong as iron--she scratched like a cat--ha, ha! A pity she died; and she did not even live to have pleasure in her children.