He bought his wife--a cheap one undoubtedly--and gave his promise to
pay; then started homeward, feeling his importance as a married man, and
chuckling over the idea of the astonishment and dismay of the rats and
mice when he should set his wife after them, and thereby deprive them of
their daily rations. But while musing thus, he discovers his wile shows
signs of fatigue, as

"The roads were bad, and the lanes were narrow,"

and not wishing to have her exhausted before commencing business, he
gallantly determined to give her a ride, well knowing she would need all
her strength for the battle he intended she should win.

So borrowing a wheelbarrow of a trusting neighbor, he seated her
therein, and amid great rejoicing at his extraordinary "luck" he set
forward. But now comes the sad part of the story:

"The wheelbarrow broke--my wife had a fall."

And what a fall was there, my countrymen! Words are inadequate. The
scene was indescribable, and we leave a blank that each may picture it
to suit themselves.

After the excitement occasioned by the catastrophe was somewhat abated,
he picked up the pieces and tried to put the wheelbarrow together again.
But it was too far gone; it was un-put-togetherable, and so he, more in
sorrow than anger, stood gazing at the wreck, while his wife, being a
woman, could not resist the impulse to cry exultingly, "I told you so; I
knew it." That on top of all the rest of his trouble was a little too
much; and after fumbling over the pieces a while, "I told you so"