My aunt was a lady of large frame, strong mind, and great resolution;
she was what might be termed a very manly woman. My uncle was a thin,
puny little man, very meek and acquiescent, and no match for my aunt.
It was observed that he dwindled and dwindled gradually away, from the
day of his marriage. His wife's powerful mind was too much for him; it
wore him out. My aunt, however, took all possible care of him, had half
the doctors in town to prescribe for him, made him take all their
prescriptions, willy nilly, and dosed him with physic enough to cure
a whole hospital. All was in vain. My uncle grew worse and worse the
more dosing and nursing he underwent, until in the end he added another
to the long list of matrimonial victims, who have been killed with
kindness.
"And was it his ghost that appeared to her?" asked the inquisitive
gentleman, who had questioned the former storyteller.
"You shall hear," replied the narrator: - My aunt took on mightily for
the death of her poor dear husband! Perhaps she felt some compunction
at having given him so much physic, and nursed him into his grave. At
any rate, she did all that a widow could do to honor his memory. She
spared no expense in either the quantity or quality of her mourning
weeds; she wore a miniature of him about her neck, as large as a little
sun dial; and she had a full-length portrait of him always hanging in
her bed chamber.
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