Hearken, my Daughter, and give ear unto my wisdom, that thou mayest understand man– his goings and his comings, his stayings out and his return in the morning, his words of honey and his ways of guile.

Beloved, question me not, whence I have learned of man, his secrets. Have I not known one man well? And verily, a woman need know but one man, in order to understand all men; whereas a man may know all women and understand not one of them.

For men are of but one pattern, whereof thou needest but to discover the secret combination; but women are as the Yale lock– no two of them are alike.

Lo! What a paradox is man – even a puzzle which worketh backward!

He mistaketh a sweet scent for a sweet disposition, and a subtile sachet for a subtile mind.

He voweth, “I admire a discreet woman!” – and inviteth the froward blonde of the chorus to supper.

He muttereth unto his wife, “Lo! I will go unto the corner for a cigar” – and behold, he wandereth unto many corners and returneth by a circular route.

He kisseth the woman whom he loveth not, and avoideth her whom he loveth, lest his heart become entangled. Yea, he seeketh always the wrong woman that he may forget his heart’s desire.

Yet, whichever he weddeth, he regretteth it all the days of his life.

SELAH

BOOK OF HUSBANDS

CHAPTER ONE

Verily, my Daughter, an husband is a Good Thing. He giveth the house a “finished” look, even as a rubber plant and a door-plate.

He suggesteth ready-money, and is an adornment like unto a potted palm upon the piazza.

When he sitteth beside thee in the tabernacle, he is as a certificate of respectability; yea in the eyes of society, he is better than a written recommendation.

Verily, he is as necessary unto thy dinner table as a centerpiece, and more impressive than cut flowers and a butler in livery.

When he taketh thee abroad to dine, the waiter shall not lead thee into dim and draughty corners, but shall run nimbly and place thee in a choice spot within hearing of the music.

For a lone woman in a great restaurant looketh pitiful; but an husband looketh like a real tip.

When thou goest unto an hotel in his company, the clerk shall not offer thee a room upon the air-shaft; and the bell-boys shall answer thy ring with flying feet and a glad smile. For an husband is as good as much credit.

Yea, when thou goest forth to shop, saying “Send this thing to Mrs. Jones”, the clerk shall treat thee almost as an equal.

Women shall not gossip about thee, and men shall come unto thy teas with an easy mind, knowing thou canst have no designs upon them. Thy family shall call thee “settled”, and no woman shall call thee “Poor Thing!”

Therefore, I say unto thee, if thou findest thine husband less them thine ideal, weep not, but be of good cheer.

For what profiteth it a woman, though she have every other luxury in all the world, and have not a little husband in her home?

CHAPTER TWO

A perfect husband, who can find one?

For his price is far above gold bonds.

The heart of his wife rejoiceth in him, and he shall have no lack of encouragement.

He worketh willingly with his hands and bringeth home all his shekels.

He riseth without calling and lifteth the ice from off the dumbwaiter. He starteth the kitchen range. He considereth his wife, and kisseth her occasionally.

Six days of the week doth he labor for his moneys, and upon the seventh doeth chores within the house for relaxation.

With his own hands he runneth the lawn mower and washeth the dog.

He layeth his hands to the parlor curtains and putteth up the portieres.

He hooketh his wife’s dresses up the back, without mutterings.

He putteth the cat out by night.

He is not afraid of the cook.

His ashes fall not upon the carpet, and his cigarette burneth not holes in the draperies.

For he doeth his smoking on the piazza.

He weareth everlasting socks and seweth on his own buttons.

His overcoat doeth him two seasons.

Yet, when he ventureth abroad with his wife he donneth a dress suit without grumbling.

The grouch knoweth him not and his breakfast always pleaseth him. His mouth is filled with praises for his wife’s cooking. He doth not expect chicken salad from left-over veal, neither the making of lobster patties from an ham-bone.

His wife is known within the gates, when she sitteth among the officers of her Club, by the fit of her gowns and her imported hats. He luncheth meagrely upon a sandwich that he may adorn her with fine jewels. He grumbleth not at the bills.

He openeth his mouth with praises and noteth her new frock. And the word of flattery is on his tongue.

He perceiveth not the existence of other women.

He may be trusted to mail a letter.

Lo, many men have I met in the world, but none like unto him.

Yet have ye all seen him – in your dreams!

CHAPTER THREE

Behold, my Daughter, the Lord maketh a man – but the wife maketh an husband.

For Man is but the raw material whereon a woman putteth the finishing touches.

Yea, and whatsoever pattern of husband thou selectest, thou shalt find him like unto a shop-made garment, which must be trimmed over and cut down, and ironed out, and built up to fit the matrimonial situation.

Verily, the best of husbands hath many raw edges, and many unnecessary pleats in his temper, and many wrinkles in his disposition, which must be removed.

Lo, I charge thee, be wary in thy choice. For, many shall call, but few shall propose. And, a wise damsel shall with difficulty select that which fitteth her disposition and matcheth her tastes – even that which shall not pinch upon the bank account, neither stretch upon the truth, neither shrink nor run nor fade.

At the second-hand counter thou shalt find many widowers, which have been remodelled by another hand. And these are easy to acquire. Yet an hand-me-down may have been spoiled in the making, and become frayed at the edges of the temper, and shiny on the seamy-side.

But a bachelor who hath passed forty is a remnant; and there is no good material left in him. His sentiments are moth-eaten and his tender speeches shop-worn. His manners shall require much basting and his morals many patches. The gloss hath been rubbed off his illusions and the color hath gone out of his emotions. Yet, a clever damsel shall, peradventure, take one of these and remodel him to seem as new.

For the happiest wife is not she that getteth the best husband, but she that maketh the best of that which she getteth. Verily, verily, an husband is a work of art which must be executed by hand; for there is no factory which turneth them out to order.

CHAPTER FOUR

Go to the lemon grove, oh, thou Scholarette! For no woman with brains hath ever plucked a peach in the Garden of Matrimony.

Nay, it is not given unto one woman to possess both real ability and a real husband.

For unto a successful woman an husband is but an adjunct; and no man yearneth to be an annex!

Alas! He preferreth soft, sweet things, and unto him a woman that knoweth her own mind is an abomination.

Verily, verily, a woman with nerves affecteth a man as a mosquito that buzzeth throughout a summer night. She wearieth him.

But a woman with nerve is as a cold bath on a winter morning. She shocketh him!

Lo, an intelligent opinion in the mouth of a woman horrifieth a man even as the scissors in the mouth of a babe.

And a wife with judgment which exceedeth his own is more uncanny than a pet parrot which saith the appropriate thing at the right moment. She appalleth him!

My Daughter, in all the land dost thou know of one clever woman who hath been happily married?

Nay! For I say unto thee there can be but one mind, one opinion, and one throne in an household; and every man claimeth these for himself.

Then, oh, thou Temperamental One, whatsoever thou receivest in the love game, accept it gladly and rejoice thereat.

For, whether it be a babe torn from the cradle or an octogenarian spared from the grave; whether it be a left-over bachelor, or an hand-me-down widower; though thou weddest fourscore times, thou shalt do no better!

Verily, verily, in the life of every woman, there cometh a season when she yearneth for sentiment, and neither the love of her “art” nor the adoration of a poodle dog is sufficient.

And a little unhappiness with an husband is more to be desired than great loneliness without one.

Go to! Life without one of these is as spaghetti without sauce and more insipid than bouillon without salt.

Therefore, my Daughter, gather in the Lemon which Fate awardeth thee and let thine heart be comforted.

For though wine is desirable, yet lemonade is not to be despised; and even an Highbrow shall find an husband an agreeable distraction from serious things!