to make up his mind.

"Arrange it among yourselves," he no doubt had said, "it is quite
immaterial to me. You are so much alike, it is impossible that a
fellow loving one should not love the lot of you. So long as I marry
into the family I really don't care."

When a performer appears alone on the music-hall stage it is easy to
understand why. His or her domestic life has been a failure. I
listened one evening to six songs in succession. The first two were
sung by a gentleman. He entered with his clothes hanging upon him in
shreds. He explained that he had just come from an argument with his
wife. He showed us the brick with which she had hit him, and the
bump at the back of his head that had resulted. The funny man's
marriage is never a success. But really this seems to be his own
fault. "She was such a lovely girl," he tells us, "with a face--
well, you'd hardly call it a face, it was more like a gas explosion.
Then she had those wonderful sort of eyes that you can see two ways
at once with, one of them looks down the street, while the other one
is watching round the corner. Can see you coming any way. And her
mouth!"

It appears that if she stands anywhere near the curb and smiles,
careless people mistake her for a pillar-box, and drop letters into
her.

"And such a voice!" We are told it is a perfect imitation of a
motor-car. When she laughs people spring into doorways to escape
being run over.