_Mrs. F_. "I will; and I'll leave this house this very night; I won't
live any longer with such a monster."

_F_. "Well, quit; get out. The sooner, the better. Good riddance to
bad rubbish; and take your clothes with you."

_Mrs. F_. "I'm sorry I ever married you. You ain't fit to be yoked
with any decent woman, you wretch you!"

_F_. "Well, you ain't half as sorry as I am. Good-bye. Don't come back
soon."

Then Mrs. Fogg put on her bonnet and went around to her mother's, but
she came back in the morning. Mr. Fogg hasn't yet confessed what his
principal failing is.

* * * * *

Mr. Fogg's life has been very troublous. He told me that he had a fit
of sleeplessness one night lately, and after vainly trying to lose
himself in slumber he happened to remember that he once read in an
almanac that a man could put himself to sleep by imagining that he
saw a lot of sheep jumping over a fence, and by counting them as they
jumped. He determined to try the experiment; and closing his eyes, he
fancied the sheep jumping and began to count. He had reached his one
hundred and fortieth sheep, and was beginning to doze off, when Mrs.
Fogg suddenly said,

"Wilberforce!"