Title: The Sayings of Mrs. Solomon - being the confessions of the seven hundredth wife as - revealed to Helen Rowland
Author: Rowland, Helen
Language: English
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[Illustration (cover)]



    THE SAYINGS OF
    MRS. SOLOMON



[Illustration]

    THE SAYINGS OF
    MRS. SOLOMON

    BEING THE CONFESSIONS OF THE
    SEVEN HUNDREDTH WIFE AS REVEALED TO

    HELEN ROWLAND

    AUTHOR OF “THE WIDOW”
    “REFLECTIONS OF A BACHELOR
    GIRL,” ETC.

    [Illustration]

    PUBLISHED IN NEW YORK BY
    DODGE PUBLISHING COMPANY



    COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY DODGE
    PUBLISHING COMPANY; NEW YORK

    MRS. SOLOMON



CONTENTS


       I. GREETING                   11

      II. BOOK OF HUSBANDS           15

     III. BOOK OF FLIRTS             31

      IV. BOOK OF DAMSELS            49

       V. BOOK OF BACHELORS          67

      VI. BOOK OF SIRENS             79

     VII. BOOK OF ADMONITIONS        93

    VIII. BOOK OF SONGS             109



            AND VERILY, A WOMAN
            NEED KNOW BUT ONE
            MAN WELL, IN ORDER
            TO UNDERSTAND _ALL_
            MEN; WHEREAS A MAN
            MAY KNOW ALL WOMEN
            AND UNDERSTAND NOT
            ONE OF THEM

[Illustration]



GREETING


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.



            FOR A LONE WOMAN
            IN A GREAT
            RESTAURANT
            LOOKETH PITIFUL;
            BUT AN HUSBAND
            LOOKETH LIKE A
            REAL _TIP_

[Illustration]



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!


CHAPTER FIVE

How long, oh thou Credulous One, wilt thou continue to marry for a
_change_; and the lawyers delight in their fees, and the neighbors in
their “I-said-so’s”?

For lo, though there be many varieties of men, there is but _one_ kind
of husband!

Yea, though a man wed seven times seven times, he maketh not the _same_
mistake twice.

But the woman who weddeth a second time, _repeateth_ her own history.

Verily, verily, if thou wilt but close thine eyes, thou canst not
perceive from his words, neither from the cloves upon his breath, nor
the ardor of his greeting, whether it be thy _first_ or thy _second_
husband, that kisseth thee.

For one man’s chin is as rough as another’s, and one man’s lies are as
smooth as another’s.

One man’s razor is as sacred as another’s, and one man’s excuses are as
old as another’s.

One man roareth, like unto another, when he is hungry.

One man growleth, like unto another, when he is fed.

One man groaneth, like unto another, when he hath over-eaten.

One man looketh as uncanny as another without a collar, and as weird as
another without a shave.

One man streweth his cigar ashes upon the carpet, and leaveth his stubs
in the pin-tray, even as another.

One man burieth himself in the pillows in the morning, and in the
newspapers in the evening, and refuseth to be torn therefrom--even as
another.

One man offereth up the morning and evening growl, and celebrateth the
Sunday forenoon grouch as regularly as another.

Why, then, wilt thou continue to hearken unto their promises? For,
before marriage, _all_ men are _promising_; but matrimony is a chemical
which transmuteth each and every one of them from a lover into a
critic, from an admirer into a scoffer, from an adorer into a judge,
and from a slave into a sultan.

Verily, verily, there is this difference only in husbands:

That the first maketh thee weep;

The second maketh thee wonder;

But the third maketh thee weary!


SELAH.



            BRING THE CUSHION FOR
            HIS HEAD, AND THE
            FOOTSTOOL FOR HIS
            FEET, AND FEED HIM
            FROM THE CHAFING-DISH
            WITH THE FRUITS OF
            THINE OWN COOKING

[Illustration]



BOOK OF FLIRTS


CHAPTER ONE

Lo! wondrous are the workings of a man’s heart, my Daughter.

His love is a thing which riseth and falleth as the stock market; yea,
like a football that goeth up, it descendeth swiftly.

Behold, when a man first meeteth a damsel, she pleaseth his eyes.
Moreover, she is different from the girl _before_ and affordeth a
pleasant change. He adoreth her from afar and indulgeth in foolish
pipe-dreams. He investeth in new cravats and is particular concerning
his collars.

He calleth at first, timidly; he getteth on the good side of the
family. He bringeth burnt offerings of expensive flowers and sweets
from Huyler’s. He readeth the Rubáiyát unto her and inviteth her to
meet his _sister_.

And, behold, there cometh a day when he kisseth her suddenly and
without warning.

And another when he kisseth her again--easily.

And another when he kisseth her much and often.

And another when he kisseth her more casually.

And another when he departeth early, and kisseth her but once--“Good
night”.

And another when he _faileth_ to call.

Then, peradventure, she writeth him a letter--which he putteth in his
pocket and forgetteth to answer. She summoneth him over the telephone
and he goeth into the booth wearily. She reproacheth and revileth him.
He picketh a quarrel.

She sobbeth “All is over between us!” He answereth “Oh, very well! Even
as thou sayest!”

And, in time, he meeteth another damsel and doeth it _all over again_.
Yea, the selfsame programme he repeateth unto the letter; yet, he
_never_ tireth.

For lo! though a man hath eaten his fill at one meal, why shall he lack
appetite for the next?

Then, I charge thee, my Daughter, when love beginneth, question not any
man how it will end; for it is only in the _beginning_ of things that a
man is interested; even in the cream from off the jug, the bubble of
the champagne, the meat on the peach, and--the _first kiss_ of a woman.

Yet, what mattereth the end? Is not the end of the cream, skimmed milk;
and the end of a cigar, a stub; and the end of a peach, a stone; and
the end of champagne, dregs; and the end of love, a quarrel? And which
of these would ye choose?

Verily, the flirtations of a man’s bachelor days are, in passing, as
the courses of the love-feast; but a _wife_ is the black coffee which
_settleth_ him.


CHAPTER TWO

Marvellous, oh, my Daughter, is the way of a man with women; for every
man hath a _method_ and each his favorite _stunt_. And the stunt that
he hath found to work successfully with one damsel shall be practised
upon each in turn, even unto the finest details thereof.

Behold, one man shall come unto thee saying:

“How foolish are the sentimentalists! But, as for _me_, my motives are
altruistic and disinterested; and a woman’s _friendship_ is what I most
desire.” Yet, I charge thee, seek among his women “friends” and thou
shalt not find an _homely_ damsel in all their number.

For this is the _platonic_ stunt.

Now, another shall try thee by a simpler method.

Lo, suddenly and without warning, he shall arise and catch thee in his
arms. And when thou smitest him upon the cheek, he shall be overcome
with humiliation, crying:

“I could not _help_ it!”

Yet be not persuaded, but put him _down_ without mercy, lest
peradventure, he kiss thee again.

For this is the _impetuous_ stunt.

Yet observe how still another seeketh to be more subtile.

Mark how he sitteth afar off and talketh of love in the _abstract_;
how he calleth three times a week, yet remaineth always _impersonal_;
how he praiseth the shape of thine hand and admireth thy rings, yet
toucheth not so much as the _tips_ of thy fingers.

“Lo,” he thinketh in his heart, “I shall keep her guessing. Yea,
I shall wrack her soul with thoughts of how I may be brought to
subjection. And when she can no longer contain her curiosity, then will
she seek to _lure_ me, and I shall gather her in mine arms.”

And this is the _elusive_ stunt.

But, I say unto thee, my Daughter, each of these is but as a
chainstitch unto a rose pattern, beside him that playeth the _frankly
devoted_.

For all women are unto him as one woman--and that one _putty_.

Lo, the look of “adoration” in his eyes is like unto the curl in
his hair, _always_ there; and he weareth his “protecting manner” as
naturally and as constantly as his linen collar.

He is _so_ attentive and the _thoughtful thing_ cometh unto him as
second nature.

Yea, though there be twenty damsels in the room, yet shall each be made
to think in her heart:

“Lo, I am _it_!”

Verily, verily, all the days of his life he shall be waited on and
cooed over and coddled by women; and his way shall be as one continuous
path of conquests and thornless roses.

For this is the Stunt of _Stunts_!


CHAPTER THREE

I charge thee, my Daughter, seek not to break a man’s heart; for it is
like unto family pride, or a pin, which may be _bent_, but _cannot_ be
broken! Yea, it is as a ball of India rubber which reboundeth easily
after the worst shocks.

Lo, the heart of a woman is full of soft spots in which every man she
hath _once_ loved occupieth a “cozy corner”. She lingereth tenderly
over the grave of a dead love; but a man flingeth a spadeful of earth
thereon and proceedeth to dig a _new_ one. And his heart is as a great
cemetery!

A woman keepeth a bundle of love-letters tied in faded ribbons; but a
man cleaneth his pipe bowl cheerfully with the stem of the rose which
the _girl-before-the-last_ hath worn in her hair.

A woman remembereth the dress she hath worn and the song she hath sung
for each particular man; but a man remembereth not the scent of violet
sachet when the odor of heliotrope is in his nostrils.

And, after _six_ months, when he cometh by chance upon an old glove
or a lock of hair at the bottom of his trunk, he casteth it into the
fire, muttering, “Now, who the devil put _that_ thing there?”

A woman recollecteth each pet name by which she hath been called; she
alloweth no _two_ men to label her alike. But unto a man, _every_ woman
becometh in turn “Little Girl” or “Baby” or “Honey”.

Lo, he is as one that playeth with skulls and sporteth with the bones
of his ancestors; for he holdeth nothing sacred.

He eraseth one face from the tablet of memory, and draweth another
across it.

He changeth his object of thought as readily as he changeth his clothes
and his political opinions.

For a woman’s love is a slow flame which smouldereth always, but a
man’s love is like unto a skyrocket, which sputtereth out and cannot be
rekindled.

Verily, his “past” is always _quite_ past, and his dead loves are quite
dead. And there is _nothing_ which is more wearisome unto him than the
memory of yesterday’s wine, or yesterday’s flirtation.


CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, there are many styles of kisses, and they come in endless
patterns, even as Oriental rugs.

There is the kiss that sootheth and the kiss that thrilleth, the kiss
that flattereth and the kiss that is a pastime. But the best of all
kisses is the _first_ kiss; for it is the most difficult.

Yet, in all the days of thy life, no two men shall kiss thee _alike_.
For one man shall regard thy kisses as a boon, and another shall regard
them as an amusement; but an husband shall consider them, as the
shaving of his chin, a morning duty.

Hast thou scorned a man’s kisses?

Then will he exalt thee, saying “Lo! she is _very_ proper.” For he can
think of no _other_ reason why thou shouldst not desire to kiss him.

Yet if thou hast consented to kiss only _one_ man, he will say unto
himself, “Verily, it is her habit. So doeth she with _all_ mankind.”
For every man judgeth thee by the way in which thou treatest _him_.

If a man kisseth thy hand gracefully, beware of him; for this is the
habit of an accomplished flirt, which hath been acquired by much
practice.

But if he kisseth thee first upon the forehead, and then upon the
eyelids, and then upon the lips, thou mayest choose thy wedding gown
and decide upon thy bridesmaids.

Lo, kissing is a fine art, and there are many artists; and one shall
take a kiss from thee as though he doeth thee a favor, and another
shall take a kiss as though he had taken thy pocketbook.

Yet, no man shall ever understand why thou seemest pleased, or why thou
waxest wroth, when he kisseth thee; for it is all in the _way_ of his
wooing.

Verily, verily, a man who kisseth a woman with his _hat_ on shall be
annihilated.

But he, that kisseth her as though he had _never_ kissed _before_ and
never should kiss _again_, shall wear an halo in her sight. For he
knoweth the Art of _Arts_.


CHAPTER FIVE

Lo, my Daughter, a man came unto me saying:

“Let me be thy slave. For, behold, I am _all devotion_. And it is my
delight to serve a fair woman.”

And I looked at him and smiled sadly.

For I knew that he was _invulnerable_; and all my weapons were broken
against me.

But another came unto me saying:

“Behold! I am a _woman-hater_. Not one of them do I trust. Nay, not one
can deceive and allure me. For I have _their numbers_, all of them.”

And my heart was gladdened. For, by that sign, I knew that he was
_easy_. And my way was clear before me.

Verily, verily, men are of three varieties: the kind that must be
driven with whip and spur; the kind that must be coaxed with apples
and sugar; and the kind that must be blindfolded and _backed_ into the
shafts of matrimony.

And the woman-hater is like unto the last.

Therefore, I charge thee, when thou meetest one of these seek not to
argue with him, neither to convince him; but _agree_ with him sweetly,
that all thy sex is weak and untrustworthy.

Discourse sorrowfully upon the _pitfalls_ of flirtation, and the
_hollowness_ of love, and the _horrors_ of matrimony.

Declare boldly thy scorn for the New Woman, and for the Old Woman, and
for the Frivolous Woman, and for the Highbrow, and for the Lowbrow, and
all the women that are on the earth and in the heavens above the earth.

And when thou hast disarmed him, taking all his arguments from out his
mouth, speak sweetly concerning the beauties of _platonic friendship_
and wax rapturous in its praises.

Bring the cushion for his head, and the footstool for his feet, and
feed him from the chafing dish with the fruits of thine own cooking,
saying:

“I prithee, _do_ smoke, for it is so _chummy_! Yea, I beg of thee,
treat me as thou wouldst a _man_ friend.”

Let him hold thy hand.

And he shall say in his heart:

“Would to heaven I were not a Woman Hater, and that all women were like
unto her; for she is _sensible_ and _sincere_--and a bachelor flat was
never like _this_!”

And upon the seventh evening he shall fall down before thee and retract
all his words, eating them one by one.

And when thou remindest him of thy warnings and of thy fear of
marriage, he will seek to persuade thee and will comfort thee with
kisses and a solitaire.

Then shalt thou slip the bridle over his head and the reins shall be in
_thine_ hands. And there shall be _one less_ Woman Hater in the world.

For a _Woman Hater_, my Beloved, is like unto the simple ostrich, which
hideth its head in the sand and thinketh itself safe.

But he that professeth open adoration is like unto the park squirrel,
which will eat out of thine hand but can _never be caught_!


CHAPTER SIX

My Daughter, a woman is a study in moods and tenses, but man is a
simple proposition which worketh according to a “system”.

Behold, how the two regard a letter. For when a woman writeth she
spelleth her soul out on paper; but a man putteth all his _tender_
meanings between the lines. Yea, a woman’s letter is a confession, but
a man’s letter is a veiled allusion which _concealeth_ his thoughts.
Verily, it is a work of _art_.

Yet, when a woman receiveth it, she readeth it over many times, and
placeth it within her shirtwaist by day, and under her pillow by
night. For she knoweth that, with temptations like unto telephones and
post-cards within reach, a _hand-written letter_ is a sign of devotion.

But, when a man receiveth a woman’s letter, he droppeth it in his
pocket. Nay, not in the pocket above his heart, but in that pocket
which containeth the fewest bills and receipts and lead pencils and
other _valuable_ things.

He carryeth it there faithfully--until he changeth his coat.

He layeth it away in an unused drawer amongst other trash.

He forgetteth it.

And, when years shall have passed, he findeth it and taketh it out
curiously.

He regardeth it with astonishment.

He wrinkleth his brows with his great effort at recollection, saying:
“Now who the dickens wrote this thing? Yea, _who_ is ‘Mabel’?”

He giveth it up.

And lo! he proceedeth to make pipe-lighters of thine heart-to-heart
effusion.

Behold thy letter, like unto his love, goeth up in smoke!


SELAH!



            FEW THY RINGS,
            BUT MANY THY
            BANGLES; FOR A
            MUSICAL JINGLE
            FASCINATETH HIM,
            EVEN AS THE SOUND
            OF A RATTLE
            FASCINATETH A BABE

[Illustration]



BOOK OF DAMSELS


CHAPTER ONE

Give ear, my Daughter, and receive my wisdom, for the _husband-hunt_
leadeth over many hurdles and the trail of the Eligible Thing aboundeth
in pitfalls.

Lo, the woods are full of men, but men are full of strange suspicions;
and in elusiveness the fox is simple beside them.

I charge thee, seek not to be a fashion-plate; for a human “shriek”
giveth warning and affrighteth the game. Verily a _becoming_ frock of
home manufacture is more to be desired than a French creation which
maketh thee to resemble a bad dream!

Costly thy smile as thy dentist shall make it; for a pearl in the
mouth exceedeth two on the finger. And it is better to be dead than
_unkissable._

Cheap thy gloves, if need be, but expensive thy sachet; for a man
knoweth not scent from sentiment.

Few thy rings, but many thy bangles; for a musical jingle fascinateth
him even as the sound of a rattle fascinateth a babe. Yea, manicured
nails and _perfectly_ clean cuffs are more to be desired in the
world of business than a knowledge of stenography. Modest thy hats,
yet chic withal; and thy hair glorious. For a _cheap coiffure_ is an
abomination, but a made-to-order switch is a woman’s “crown of beauty”.

Look not upon the rouge-pot when it is _too_ red, but delicate thy
blushes and thy complexion put on with a fine brush and self-restraint.

Plain thy coat, but frilly thy petticoat and of all silk; for a
feminine “swish” is as poetry unto the masculine ear.

Then, I say unto thee, waste not thy substance upon style. For a man
knoweth not last year’s left-over from this year’s fad, but he knoweth
a “vision” when he seeth her.

Verily, a wise virgin hideth her light under a bushel of simplicity,
but a foolish damsel goeth forth resembling a human snare. She painteth
her cheek as with house paint, and gildeth her hair with much gold. She
adorneth herself with feathers and weareth dangling ear-rings. And at
sight of her men fly on wings of fear.


CHAPTER TWO

Hear now, the Prayer of a Damsel of Babylon, which she chanteth in her
heart:

Angels and Ministers of Grace, oh, hear me! Bestow upon me, I pray thee:

The smile of a seraph.

The voice of a dove.

The silence of the Sphinx.

The eyes of an houri.

The blindness of a bat.

The figure of a cloak model.

The wisdom of Solomon.

The ways of a kitten.

The conscience of a cat.

The self-control of a tin soldier.

The pliability of a sofa cushion.

The capriciousness of an automobile.

The sensitiveness of a suet pudding.

The intelligence of a pet clam.

The sweetness of a cream puff.

The ambition of a potato.

The meekness of a door-mat.

The opinions of an echo.

The fascinations of a chorus girl.

The patience of Griselda.

The mystery of the Catacombs.

The faith of a poodle.

And the endurance of Atlas.

These things I ask in order that I may be _all_ things unto _one_ man!


CHAPTER THREE

How little, O, my Daughter, how exceeding little shall satisfy the
heart of a woman!

For a man’s love is like unto an orchid, which requireth tender
persuasion and _constant cultivation_. But a woman’s love is like unto
an air plant, which flourisheth continually upon _imagination_.

Now, I knew a damsel of Babylon, and she was exceeding fair, having
dove’s eyes, and curling locks, and much moneys, and a motor car.

Wherefore the youths of the land flocked unto her house, and her parlor
was always _full_, and her piazza running over.

And one of these was a medal-winner, called Clod, who possessed a
football figure and a Gibson profile. But the least among them all was
Wisenheimer, who was abbreviated and whose hair was thin upon the top.

And Clod come unto the damsel, bringing his medals and his loving cups
and divers trophies. And when he had shown them all and had told her
of his deeds of prowess, he sat afar off in a corner and conversed of
_generalities_ and of _himself_.

For he said in his heart, “When she hath seen what great works I am
destined to accomplish, then will she gladly share them with me and
shine in my reflected glory.”

But Wisenheimer concentrated all his conversation upon _one topic_,
saying:

“How marvellous are thine eyes to-night, O Star of Beauty! And thy
lips have a curve like unto the smile of Mona Lisa. Thy hair is of a
wonderful softness; and _what_ is that fascinating perfume thou usest?
Lo, many damsels have I known, but thou excellest them all; for thou
art as Maxine Elliot and Lillian Russell and the Venus de Milo in one!”

And the damsel was interested, and she said:

“Go on!”

Then Wisenheimer cast himself before her crying: “Lo, what am I, a worm
and a parasite, that I should aspire to thy love?

“Behold, I am a _sinner_ and full of _evil_, yet I need the love of a
_noble woman_ to save me! I am as _nothing_, and have accomplished
nothing, yet I yearn for the inspiration of an angel to guide me and
sustain me and spur me on to higher things!”

And lo, the maiden fell upon his neck and comforted him with kisses and
with promises. And the wedding was set for October.

Yet all her friends said:

“What doth she see in _him_!”

But I say unto thee, the maiden was wise. For verily, verily, in the
comedy of matrimony there is more joy in being a _star_ than in being
an _understudy_!


CHAPTER FOUR

Behold, my Daughter, how Man’s taste concerning women hath changed!

For lo, it hath come to pass that a maiden of sweet and simple sixteen
is, unto a matron of fair and frivolous forty, as breakfast food unto
caviar and old wine.

Yea, a man no longer yearneth for a babe to cuddle; and a clinging
vine fretteth him, as a shoe that squeaketh or a chair that wobbleth.
Moreover, he desireth _rich_ things. And a widow with many shekels hath
a more solid attraction than a damsel with naught but beauties of the
soul.

Go to! The kiss of a damsel of sixteen is more insipid than pink
ice-cream, but the kiss of a woman of forty hath the flavor of
experience and vera violetta.

Lo, a damsel worshippeth a man as a demi-god and discourseth unto him
of her “ideals”; but a matron _mothereth_ him and cooeth unto him in
_baby talk_. A damsel discusseth the _weather_ with a youth and singeth
“The Rosary” unto him; but a woman of forty discusseth _his talents_
and singeth him lullabies. A maiden babbleth on as the brook, thinking
to be _always_ amusing, but a matron knoweth that after his labors of
the day a man preferreth a down pillow unto fireworks.

A maiden pouteth and chafeth beneath his “moods”, but a matron
ascertained whether they proceed from indigestion or an ingrowing
temperament, and healeth them accordingly with soda mints or flattery.

A maiden seeketh to appear _mysterious_, and romantic, but a matron
playeth always the _platonic friend_. She is _so_ simple.

A maiden goeth roundabout ways to hasten a proposal, but a matron
_seemeth to put it off_. She forbiddeth him to speak of marriage, even
as she forbiddeth a small boy to touch the medicine which she hath
determined he shall swallow. And lo, he yearneth straightway therefor.

Verily, verily, a maiden goeth forth with the sound of bugles and an
airgun, but a matron setteth her trap in unseen places and lieth low.

A maiden _challengeth_ a man with coquettishness, but a matron putteth
him to _sleep_! For no man goeth into matrimony with his eyes open!
Verily, verily, he falleth in love as he falleth out of bed, and
awakeneth with a great shock, knowing not _how it hath happened_.


CHAPTER FIVE

Hast thou heard the tale of the wise and foolish virgins, oh, my
Daughter? Then hearken! For this parable pointeth a great moral.

Now, the foolish virgin cried unto her sisters, early in the season,
“Lo! the spirit of the love-chase is upon me! I must be up and doing.
For the summer resort shall be my happy hunting ground, where the game
is easy and plentiful.”

And she went her ways rejoicing, armed with three trunks and a pink
parasol and girded about with lingerie frocks and a silk bathing suit.

Yet, when she had arrived upon the scene, behold there was naught
within sight! Lo, each morning she wandered upon the beach with one
callow college-youth and each evening danced gladly with a flirtatious
octogenarian. All the damsels of the hotel, they waltzed in pairs and
_pretended_ to like it!

But the wise virgin sighed, “Alas! I cannot _afford_ to go upon a
vacation trip. Nay I must stay in town! For I shall be _busy_.”

And she _was_ busy!

For, when all the other women had departed, the men of the town, being
much bored and having naught else to do, flocked unto her door and made
themselves comfortable upon her piazza.

Yea, in twos and threes came they, the simple youth with his mandolin
and the wise youth with his Rubáiyát, the married man in his
loneliness, and the bachelor whose sweetheart was abroad.

And she fed them iced drinks and flattery, and they absorbed all of it
gladly--and were consoled!

And lo, before the summer had waned she wore six engagement rings; for
the harvest was plentiful.

Verily, verily, a summer resort is a place wherein a woman will resort
to anything, from a babe unto a grandfather, for amusement; but a
womanless town is a ripe field.


CHAPTER SIX

Oh, ye damsels of Babylon! Ye followers after fads and wearers of pearl
earrings! How long will ye seek to appear _sophisticated_? How long
will ye continue to pose as _cynics_, and think it chic to be satirical
and piquant to be capricious?

Know ye not, oh foolish ones, that a man dreadeth a female cynic as a
small boy dreadeth an education? Yea, and a satirical damsel is unto
him as a caterpillar upon the neck, which maketh him to shudder. But a
capricious woman is as gravel in the shoes. She giveth him great _pain_.

Behold, a foolish damsel seeketh always to scintillate. She appeareth
clothed in worldly wisdom and bristling with opinions. She provoketh
arguments and answereth with repartee. She mocketh at a man’s
sentiments and rebuketh him with epigrams. She maketh him to look
_foolish_.

But a wise damsel is sweeter than distilled honey and more _simple_
than the plot of a Robert Chambers novel. She lighteth her own way with
the sun of her smiles, and smootheth all her paths with soft soap. She
seeketh not her own glorification but poureth oil upon the vanity of
the just and unjust alike.

Doth a youth argue with her, she is easily convinced and covereth him
with approbation, saying: “How didst thou _ever_ think of _that_?”

And, lo, his argument is broken against him.

Doth her Beloved call at eve, bringing with him the _grouch_ “that
knoweth no brother”, she greeteth him with the _smile_ that knoweth no
sister.

She ministereth unto him with cooling drinks and looks of sympathy.

She bringeth him the ash-tray and the shaded lamp and the foot-stool
and the newspapers.

She urgeth him to _smoke_.

She forbeareth to _talk_.

And behold his mood dissolveth as the mist before the sun, and he
exclaimeth in his heart: “Good Heavens! What would life _be_ without
this _woman_!”

He proposeth.

And all the days of her life she treadeth upon velvet.

Verily, verily, a wise woman preferreth peace of mind unto her
own opinions, _comfort_ unto her dignity, and an _husband_ unto a
reputation for brilliancy. She saith in her heart:

“I am not here to _reform_ him, but to _please_ him.”

And, lo, all the world is her _roller coaster_! For the price of
_peace_ is a _perpetual smile_!


SELAH.



            VERILY, VERILY, MY
            DAUGHTER, THE FOOL
            HATH SAID IN HER
            HEART, “ALL MEN
            SHOULD MARRY! FOR
            THERE IS A REASON
            FOR EVERYTHING
            UNDER THE SUN, SAVE
            A _BACHELOR_”

[Illustration]



BOOK OF BACHELORS


CHAPTER ONE

Go to, my Daughter. Knowest thou a man who hath lived long in a
bachelor flat? Then beware of him! For his ways are full of guile and
he hath not a thrill left.

Alas, the bachelor flat is a curse sent upon Woman. For, lo, though
a man hath dwelt in the back hall-room of a boarding-house for many
years and hath suffered all its untold horrors, the moment he taketh a
flat the sweet feminine thing seeketh him out and yearneth to make him
“comfortable”.

And his days are made sad with sofa pillows and towel racks, and
picture frames, and shaving-pads, and foot-stools, until his house
resembleth a bargain counter, or the spoils from the harem of a sacked
city.

He groaneth when he seeketh in corners for a spot wherein to place his
forty-seventh cushion; he curseth when he returneth after dark and
falleth over tabourets and _other_ evidences of the _pursuit of man_;
he laugheth as he borroweth old socks from his men friends that he may
supply _all_ of those who desire to do his mending. And to him, in
matters of love, there is nothing new under the sun.

For the man that weddeth a widow is number two, but the woman that
weddeth a bachelor-flatee is number _forty-two_.

And when she mendeth his coat and patteth his pillow; when she kisseth
him in the cleft within his chin and runneth her fingers through his
hair, he feeleth no thrill. For these are unto him but as a tale that
hath been many times told.

Verily, his sentiments are frayed at the edges and his emotions worn
thin with usage. His heart is patched in many places and his illusions
are as last year’s roses--withered.

Yea, his love is but as warmed-over pudding or cold veal served upon
the second day; even as second-hand furniture, whereof the interior is
motheaten.

But he is better than _nothing_.


CHAPTER TWO

Verily, verily, my Daughter, the fool hath said in her heart, “All men
should marry! For there is a reason for everything under the sun, save
a _bachelor_.”

But I have gone among the bachelors, questioning them, young and old;
and I say unto thee, the “_reasons_” why a man taketh a _stimulant_ are
not more numerous and wonderful than the reasons why he doth not marry.

Behold, he doth not marry:

Because he is too _young_.

Because he is too _old_.

Because he hath not _thought_ about it.

Because he hath thought _too much_ about it.

Because he is poor and cannot _afford_ a wife.

Because he is rich and doth not _require_ a wife.

Because he loveth _no_ woman.

Because he loveth _all_ women.

Because he hath not met the _right_ woman.

Because he _hath_ met the right woman and been “disappointed”.

Because he hath many _illusions_ concerning women.

Because he hath _no_ illusions concerning them.

Because _no_ woman is good enough.

Because _he_ is not “good enough” for _any_ woman.

Because he is not ready to _settle down_.

Because he is _already_ settled down, and is content.

Because he is _weak_ and fearful.

Because he is _strong_ and impregnable.

And, likewise--just _because_.


CHAPTER THREE

Hearken, my Daughter, unto the parable of the merrie bachelor; hearken
and be comforted.

For, I say unto thee, not one of these liveth but shall receive his
just desert!

Now, in my youth, there came unto me such an one, saying, “_Why_ shall
I marry? For lo, have I not _all_ the comforts of home, at _half_ the
expense? Behold, I have three good meals a day and a den filled with
gew-gaws, which are the work of many damsels. Yea, and not one of them
but yearneth to sew on my buttons.

“Moreover, I can go forth into the country in the summer time without
having to pawn mine overcoat; and in the winter I can go unto my club
without having to perjure my soul.

“Verily, verily, my life is like unto an eleven-course dinner.

“For on Monday I may talk _art_ unto a high-browed damsel; and on
Tuesday I may talk _love_ unto a widow; and on Wednesday I may talk
_nonsense_ unto a fluffy thing.

“But a married man must talk _domestic economy_ unto the _same woman_
every night, which is like a table d’hote menu, of a deadening monotony.

“Behold, I offer no apology for my singleness; for I am _unashamed_!
And my one fear is that I shall awaken from this _dream_!”

And I answered him, saying, “Even so!”

Yet, as time passed, the hairs dropped one by one from the head of the
bachelor, until it shone as a great light.

Lo, from eating and drinking much good food and having no _worries_, he
became round and pudgy, like unto a Billiken.

And the maidens of the land who had trembled at his approach now
tittered merrily at sight of him. Yea, whereas, before, he had been
able to spend an whole evening with one of them, bringing a box of
cheap candy, he now spent all his savings upon them.

For it requireth real orchids and champagne to make a fat man
_fascinating_.

And he observed the married men of his acquaintance, that from
overworking they had still kept their figures and were _interesting_.
Yea, and they flirted with their stenographers and were merry; but the
bachelor not having to labor had accomplished nothing; for he had spent
his days in yawning.

Then he came unto me, crying:

“Lo! At last I would marry and settle down. But she that I once loved
hath married another. And how shall I choose a wife? For all women are
as _one_ woman unto me.”

And I mocked him with my ha-has, saying:

“My Son, I adjure thee, wed any woman thou _canst_! For the buds of
the Nation are _not_ collecting antiques. Yet, peradventure, one of
these shall accept thee as a _good thing_; or another shall take thee
as a _last resort_, when she hath passed her fifth season. Go to! Thou
hast eaten the bread of life without _honey_ thereon, and thou shalt
hereafter be satisfied with the _crumbs_.”

Verily, verily, life without love is as a pipe without a light; but a
man without a wife is as a helpless barge without a tow-boat.


CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, hear now the Thanksgiving Day prayer of a bachelor:

Oh, Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast vouchsafed me another year of
_freedom_. That I am still safe!

That Thou hast made me what I _am_--wise, unconquerable, immune!

That, although I have many times lost my heart, I have never yet lost
my _head_.

That I did not marry my first love.

That, though the hairs of my head be numbered, they are still
sufficient to cover my bald spot.

That, though my forehead gradually becometh more _intellectual_, it is
not yet bare.

That I have never yet written a letter which could be held against me
in a breach-of-promise suit, but have confined all my _tender_ messages
unto telegrams and postcards.

That all my words have been discreet and mine actions cautious and
self-restrained.

That, although maidens may bestow upon me purple neckties, spotted
scarfs, plaid mufflers and orange-colored gloves at Christmastide, I
shall not be required to _wear_ them.

That I am still regarded as _eligible_ among maidens and matrons. That
they have not _found me out_!

That, day by day, my heart is acquiring a coat of cement and my
conscience a coat of mail.

That I have carefully preserved all my emotions in alcohol!

That there is no marrying nor giving in marriage in Heaven!

Yea, for good cigars, bachelor flats, vaudeville, briar pipes, clubs,
apartment hotels, stenographers, comic operas, taxicabs and _widows_,
Good Lord I thank Thee!

And now in the name of peace and contentment, vouchsafe me another year
of single blessedness.

Yea, give me liberty or give me death! Amen!


SELAH



            WHEN HER SHOE
            COMETH UNTIED,
            WHEN HER SIDE-COMB
            FALLETH OUT, WHEN
            HER HAIR TUMBLETH
            DOWN, TURN AWAY
            THINE EYES, LEST
            THOU BE UNDONE.
            FOR CIRCE WAS AS
            NAUGHT BESIDE A
            WOMAN WITH FLOWING
            HAIR

[Illustration]



BOOK OF SIRENS


CHAPTER ONE

Behold, my Daughter, I have parted from mine Appendix and my conscience
is clear! Therefore do I fear but three things in all the world:

And the first of these is a mouse.

And the second is embonpoint.

But the third is a _Trained Nurse_!

For I have watched her at her _work_.

And, I charge thee, in the flutter of her apron there lurketh more
danger than in the whole chorus of a comic opera. For a chorus girl
practiseth her wiles upon strong men, but _she_ seeketh him only that
is stricken and at her mercy.

Yea, when he is down-and-out she getteth in her fine work.

Upon her head she weareth a cute cap, which glorifieth her as a halo in
his sight. She walketh upon heels of velvet and cooeth unto him in a
voice of silver.

Her smile runneth over and will _not_ come off.

She hath dove’s eyes.

She batheth his brow with spikenard and myrrh, and anointeth him with
alcohol. She arrangeth his pillows and comforteth his soul with words
of cheer. _She taketh his pulse!_

He yearneth to be babied--and she babyeth him.

He pineth for sympathy--and she sympathizeth.

He seeketh comfort--and she maketh him _comfortable_.

And _what_ chance hath a damsel at a pink tea beside a ministering
angel such as one of these?

Go to, thou Simple One! What strength is there in a _sick_ man that he
shall flee before all the temptations of St. Anthony, in one?

Nay, though he be of stone and of adamant, though his heart be encased
in barbed wire, yet shall he turn upon his pillow sighing:

“Alas Miriam is all right; but a _wife_ was never like this!”

Yet how guileless is human nature! For, ye will keep your silver in a
strong box and your jewels behind bars of iron; yet will ye trust your
_beloved_ in the hands of one of these.

Verily, verily, the Lorelei is passeé and witches are no more.

But a Little Trained Nurse is a _dangerous thing_!


CHAPTER TWO

Verily, my Daughter, there be these three: the maid, the matron, and
the widow; and the luckiest of these is the _widow_.

For she hath graduated from the School of Experience and her crêpe veil
glorifieth her as a diploma.

And, though she may live in a bachelor flat, none shall gossip about
her; but whatsoever she doeth shall seem “cute” in the eyes of men.

When she talketh wittily they shall not say, “She knoweth too much”;
and when she talketh foolishly they shall declare that she but seeketh
to _appear_ simple. If she smoketh a cigarette, she will make excuse,
saying, “Mine _husband_ taught me how to do this thing”, and all men
shall call her “fascinating”.

Yea, she possesseth all the glory of matrimony, even unto “Mrs.” on her
name, and none of the discomforts. She shall marry a second time if she
so desireth; and if she doth _not_, who shall say that she _could_ not?

For one man hath set his seal of approval upon her, and where one hath
led the rest shall follow like unto a flock of Geese. Yea, in the
matter of women, man hath great faith in the judgment of his brother,
but he doubteth his _own_ taste.

And, though a widow be neither wealthy, nor good to look upon; though
she be fat and forty and frivolous; yet she understandeth how to make a
man comfortable--which is the secret of all wisdom. She shall feed the
lambs from the chafing-dish and the lions with honeyed words; she shall
coax the smoker to smoke; she shall hold a match to his cigar; she
shall bring a footstool for his feet and a couch pillow for his head;
she shall mend his gloves and listen eagerly to his stories unto seven
times seven times.

Yet envy her not, my daughter, for hath she not been married once?
And a woman who hath once _been married_ hath earned whatsoever she
receiveth.


CHAPTER THREE

Heed my instructions, oh my Son, that thou mayest understand the Seven
Poses of Woman!

For, whether she dwelleth in the high places or in the low places, her
nets are cast into the sea, and her hooks are bated with perfume and
chafing-dishes and domesticity.

Yea, though she hideth in a studio apartment and cryeth “I shall never
marry!”, yet doth she seek to lure thee with joss sticks and pink tea
and rarebits and the _artistic temperament_.

Likewise, beware when she patteth thy coat lapel; when she slippeth
her hand confidingly into thine overcoat pocket be not persuaded. For
the touch of a damsel’s fingers is alluring, but a _wife’s_ “touch” is
expensive.

Lo, when she mothereth thee; when she runneth her fingers through thy
top hair; when she inquireth concerning thy health and urgeth thee to
wear rubbers, be prepared to escape her; for, so doth she shear the
lamb for the slaughter.

When her shoe cometh untied, when her side-comb falleth out, when her
hair tumbleth down, in the game of tennis, turn away thine eyes, lest
thou be undone. For, Circe was as naught, beside a woman with flowing
hair.

When she “turneth” her ankle upon the golf links, I charge thee do not
bear her in thine arms to safety; but, for thy soul’s sake, flee in
search of a doctor, ’ere she turneth thine head also.

When she putteth perfume upon thy locks, oh beware of her! For she
doeth this that she may mark thee for _her own_; and, until it be
washed away, thou shalt be covered with shame in the eyes of the world.

But, when she coaxeth thee to be adorned, when she seeketh to _manicure
thy nails_; when she patteth thy fingers and yearneth to bathe them
with sweet ointments; when she weareth a cute apron and sitteth more
near, I charge thee, clasp thine hands behind thee, crying:

“Nay! Thou mayest _hold_ them, but thou shalt _not manicure_ them!”

For by this strategy fell the Benedicts.

Go to, my Son! Ask me not how I have learned of Woman, concerning all
her _poses_.

For lo, I am a _woman_, and I have _tried_ them.


CHAPTER FOUR

The secret musings of thy Father Solomon, found in his diary, concealed
in the pocket of his smoking jacket and privily copied by thy Mother.

Read now his libellous words, my Daughter, and ponder thereon; for he
hath known _much girl_:

“Verily, verily, in all the world, there be but two things which have
power to disconcert me.

“A Meerschaum Pipe is one of these.

“The other is _a woman_.

“And, so like is the first unto the second, that I doubt not the former
is but a reincarnation of the latter.

“Lo, I have colored upward of twenty meerschaums, and have made love
unto upward of seven hundred damsels. And I say unto thee, not one of
them hath been worth the struggle nor repaid the toil and travail.

“Behold, how a man purchaseth a meerschaum at great price.

“Behold, how he wooeth a woman at great expense.

“How joyfully he flingeth away his shekels that they may be covered
with silver and fine gold!

“How tenderly he encaseth them in velvet!

“With what care and delicacy he wasteth his golden hours in the
coloring of his pipe!

“With what pains and ingenuity he wasteth golden years in winning the
heart of a woman!

“How lovingly he burneth tobacco for the one!

“How patiently he burneth incense before the other!

“Yet, lo, a sudden coldness--and the pipe hath snapped! A sudden
chilliness--and the woman’s love is shattered!

“Or let the fire within the meerschaum’s bowl wax too hot, or the ardor
of his devotion unto the woman wax too intense--and behold the pipe is
ruined and the woman is spoiled forever!

“And it is all _up_ with him!

“The fool hath said in his heart, ‘All women are as trolley cars, which
having once been caught, need no longer be pursued.’ But I say unto
thee, thy pursuing is never finished; thy task is never done!

“For, seven times seven weeks, mayest thou devote thyself unto a
meerschaum, and seven times seven months, unto a damsel!

“Yet if thou layest them aside, and thinkest to cease from thy
devotions for but a little while, lo, the pipe hath faded--and the
woman hath forgotten thee.

“Verily, verily, there is no rest for a peaceful man! For, life with a
pipe, or a woman, is all toil and travail and vexation.

“Yet life _without_ them is all weariness and desolation!”


SELAH.



            VERILY, VERILY, EVEN
            THY FATHER SOLOMON,
            HIMSELF, HAD NOT
            _MORE_ THAN ENOUGH
            WIVES. FOR EVERY
            MAN REQUIRETH AT
            LEAST TWO SOUL-MATES.
            ONE TO AMUSE HIM--AND
            ONE TO WAIT UPON HIM

[Illustration]



BOOK OF ADMONITIONS


CHAPTER ONE

My Daughter, Hearken Unto My Words, And attend diligently to my
counsel; for the understanding of _Man_ is the beginning of a good
income, and a knowledge of _his ways_ more profitable than a higher
education.

Behold, a woman delighteth to travel the path of love slowly and
through devious by-ways of flirtation and sentiment, but a man
_rusheth_ over it at the speed limit.

Unto a woman, the first kiss is but the _start_ in the love chase, but
unto a man it is ofttimes the _finish_.

Lo, when a woman weddeth a man, it is in order that she may _get_ him;
but when a man weddeth a woman, it is in order that he may prevent
_another_ from getting her.

Yea, verily, when a woman clingeth unto single blessedness, it is
because she hath met _no_ man with whom she could endure to live; but,
when a man remaineth a bachelor, it is because he hath met no woman
_without_ whom he _cannot_ live.

A man weddeth a woman in order to escape loneliness, and immediately
thereafter joineth a _club_ in order to escape the woman.

He marryeth a damsel because she appealeth to his “higher nature”, and
spendeth all the rest of his days seeking after those who appeal to his
lower nature.

A woman is cast down with doubts lest a man doth not love her; but a
man never troubleth his soul, as to whether or not a woman loveth him,
but as to whether or not he _wanteth_ her to love him.

Behold, an _honest_ woman may cheat at cards, but never at love; but he
considereth himself an “_honorable man_” that never cheateth at a game
of poker though he never playeth fair at the game of hearts.

Go to! Think no man _in love_ while he flattereth thee and extolleth
all thy ways; but, when he beginneth to _moralise_ and to criticise thy
_hats_, then mayest thou plan thy trousseau.

When he saveth thy life it may be for chivalry’s sake; but when he
carryeth an _umbrella_ to please thee it is for love’s sake.

Be not set up when a man giveth thee the key to his heart, for,
peradventure, upon the following day, he may _change the lock_!

Then, how shall a woman understand a man, since they are _all_ cut upon
the _bias_!

Verily, verily, by turning him around, my Daughter, and reading him
_backward_, even as a Chinese laundry ticket!


CHAPTER TWO

How long, oh, ye Easy Ones, shall men continue to call ye “_kitten_”
when they are sentimental and “_cat_” when they wax cynical?

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, the ways of a _man_ are the ways of
Grimalkin; for doth not a cat, and likewise a man, prize his _dignity_
above all things else in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or
in the subways under the earth?

Moreover, doth not a cat, and likewise a man, seek out all the _soft_
places upon the face of the earth, and all the most _comfortable_ spots
within the house, and all the _easy_ chairs of the office?

Yea, doth not a man, even as a cat, wander abroad at night and return
only at mealtimes?

Doth not a cat, and also a man, cling unto the woman that maketh him
most _comfortable_ and stroketh him the _right_ way, but revile and
despise her that disturbeth his meditations and arouseth him from his
slumbers?

Doth not a cat flee in terror from one that flingeth cold water upon
his coat, and a man from her that flingeth cold water upon his vanity?

Doth not a man, like unto a cat, struggle to escape when he is held
_tightly_, yet remain cheerfully where he is not wanted?

Doth not a cat, and likewise a man, flee fearfully from that which is
flung at his head--whether it be a bone, or a plate, or a _woman_?

And, being “dropped,” doth not a cat and likewise a man, land always
upon his _feet_ and depart in search of consolation?

Lo, if thou pursuest a cat and a man with thine endearments will they
not shrink from thee, with vexation?

But, if thou ignorest them, will they not sit devotedly at thy feet?

Go to! I say unto thee a _woman_ is not as a tabby, but as a Faithful
Fido which cannot be shaken off.

She followeth a man whithersoever he goeth, accepting gladly a pat upon
the head and a kind word, and lying down at his feet to be _stepped on_.

Verily, verily, why doth a spinster console herself with a _cat_ in her
loneliness?

Even because this is the only thing which can be found to resemble a
_man_!


CHAPTER THREE

Lo, while a man courteth a maiden he faith unto her:

“Beloved, _I adore_ the waves and frivols of thy hair! The neatness of
thy waistline is my delight; and what _is_ that subtile sachet which
maketh thee to remind me always of the rose of morning?”

But in his heart he saith:

“Yet, when we are married, then shall _I teach_ her not to wear false
ringlets, and the imported complexion which she now putteth on shall
she abjure.

“Verily from the using of that _awful scent_ shall I break her, and
from the wearing of corsets shall I rescue her! For we shall then be
_one_, and I shall be _that one_!”

And while a damsel seeketh to allure a man she saith unto him:

“Thou art _so_ sensible. Yea, I pray thee, continue to wear a
_comfortable_ collar always; for why shalt thou suffer for style’s
sake? Lo, thy beard and thy mustache, they are so _characteristic_; and
in a soft hat thou hast _real personality_!”

But in her heart she muttereth:

“Go to! When I have him _safe_, then shall I entice him to put on a
high collar, even unto _four inches_; and the shaving of his face will
require but two weeks! Yea, and that quaint top-piece shall he exchange
for a derby within the first month. For I know _just_ what he needeth!”

Verily, verily, even in the hour of their courtship, do they prepare
for _war_!

Even while she poureth his wine, doth she determine that he shall
become a teetotaler! Even while he passeth her the sweetmeats doth he
plan to put her on a _diet_, ’ere she acquire embonpoint.

As enemies before the battle, do they exchange civilities, saying “_How
congenial_ we are!”

For every woman thinketh to make a man over after a _pattern_, and
every man thinketh to remodel a woman according to a _stock_ ideal.

Yea, after the honeymoon each seeketh to trim the other down and to add
all the _modern improvements_.

Then give them the fruit of their labors, which is a _mutual_ shock!


CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, she that heedeth my instructions shall find a man easier
to play upon than a pianola.

Behold, she hath but to press the right key, and he shall repeat all
his repertoire, even unto the _confession_ of his sins.

Yea, verily, a man rejoiceth in confessions; and nothing delighteth his
soul so much as to _repent_. For, then can he return unto his follies
with a clear conscience and renewed enthusiasm.

Go to! _Who_ is so virtuous as an husband that hath but _just_ received
a cold bath and his wife’s forgiveness?

Lo, he goeth forth feeling like unto an uncrowned saint.

He is puffed up with _righteousness_.

Yet, before the night cometh, peradventure, he shall again have wobbled
from the straight and narrow way.

How long, then, oh my Daughter, shalt thou encourage men to persecute
thee with their “I’m so-sorrys”, and their “Never-agains”? For, verily,
verily, every man believeth that a woman’s patience is a thing of India
rubber, which will stretch over a multitude of backslidings.

Yea, he hath not a _doubt_ that a broken promise may be glued together
with kisses, and a broken heart mended with softsoap.

Confessions are but the soothing syrup wherewith he stilleth his
conscience. And his sins would lack much joy if he had not the pleasure
of “_regretting_” them.

But I say unto thee, a woman’s faith is like unto a cobweb which cannot
be patched up, once it hath been shattered; and a woman’s heart is not
as a rubber ball, which reboundeth after it hath been cast down.

Nay, a bride sobbeth “Harold, tell me _all_!”

But after ten years, a wife saith, “Do whatsoever thou pleasest, but
come not unto _me_ with thy tale of woe. Lo, I am aweary of holding
onto Heaven with one hand and onto _thee_ with the other. Therefore go
thy ways and let me _sleep_!”

Verily, verily, in time, doth a man’s penitence _pall_ upon a woman;
and his kiss of remorse is more to be dreaded than his sins.

For, once love hath cooled, it _may_ be warmed-over, yet it is flat and
tasteless, even as a Monday luncheon.


CHAPTER FIVE

My Daughter, observe my counsel, for the heart of a man is like unto a
Broadway car, in which there is always room for _one more_.

Behold, in matters of love, a woman is a _specialist_, but a man is a
_general practitioner_. Yea, a woman loveth but one _type_--even _one
man_--but a man loveth anything which happeneth to be _at hand_.

Lo, he that weddeth a brunette shall ever after seek peroxide blondes;
and he that marryeth a pink and yellow _doll_ shall acquire a sudden
interest in _intellect_ and _brunettes_. For _variety_ is the spice of
love.

Moreover, a woman is an epicure in love, but a man is a gourmand.

In the love-feast, a woman desireth but one course at a time; but a man
relisheth them _all_ served _at once_, like unto a dinner at a country
inn.

Yea, he mixeth his flirtations, even as he mixeth his libations, and
wondereth sadly why he awakeneth always with an headache.

Verily, verily, even thy Father, Solomon, had not _more_ than enough
wives. For every man requireth at least two soul-mates.

One for Sundays--and one for week days.

One to amuse him--and one to wait upon him.

One to save his soul--and one to save his pennies.

One to help him make a fortune--and one to help him spend it.

One for his lighter side--and one for his darker side.

One for company, one for comfort, one for inspiration, one for
pastime--and many others, for _a change_.


SELAH.



            LO, MY BELOVED, THY
            HAIR IS AS STUBBLE;
            AND IN THE MORNING IT
            STANDETH ALOFT AS A
            SHORN WHEAT FIELD.
            HOW _FASCINATING_ ART
            THOU IN PAJAMAS, WHEN
            THY FACE IS COVERED
            WITH SHAVING LATHER!

[Illustration]



BOOK OF SONGS


CHAPTER ONE

The Song of a Wife, which is Mrs. Solomon’s.

Let him praise me with the words of his mouth; for his flattery is
sweeter than wine and his kisses are rarer than orchids.

Lo, my Beloved, thy hair is as stubble, and in the morning it standeth
aloft, as a shorn wheat field.

Thy cheek is as a Turkish towel, which caresseth mine.

Thy temples are a shining light, which resembleth a silver polish
advertisement.

Thou wearest a derby hat. Thy breath is sweet with cloves.

How _fascinating_ art thou in pajamas, when thy face is covered with
shaving lather!

How beautiful are thy _feet_.

Behold, thou art a collection of habits. Yea, unto these thou art more
constant than the _family cat_.

Whatsoever thou hast done before, _that_ shalt thou do forever and in
the _same way_.

Thou kissest me once in the morning, once in the evening, and _twice_
upon Christmas Day.

Thou clingest unto thine old pipe as unto thy _reputation_. Thou
callest every woman by the _same_ pet name.

Lo, what would my Beloved _be_ without his habits? Even as a doggie’s
tail which hath lost its “wag”! But thy _heart_, oh, my Beloved, is
full of lightning changes. Its capacity is inexhaustible.

The memory of yesterday’s kiss is unto thee as the memory of
yesterday’s dinner--sweet, but not satisfying.

Yet, though thy heart changeth many times, I, thy wife, am become _one_
of thy habits!

Behold thou hast placed “Mrs.” upon my name; thou hast glorified me
with a wedding ring!

Therefore, I am become thy doormat. Yea, I am as thy footstool.

I shall mend thy socks with rejoicing, and the replacing of thy buttons
shall be my delight.

All the days of thy life, shall I clean thy safety razor and put the
studs in thy shirts.

Then, cast thine ashes over my dressing table and strew my carpets with
cigar stumps.

Let the awnings of mine house be burned and my lace curtains consumed
with fire. I shall not murmur.

For I am my Beloved’s and there is _naught else_ like unto him.


CHAPTER TWO

The Song of Songs, which is the _widow’s_.

When I was a _rib_, I spoke as a rib, and all my ways were the ways of
a rib.

Lo, I took man _seriously_, even as he took himself. For him did I rush
the breakfast--and keep it waiting.

Unto him did I offer up the palm--and the morning paper. All his
opinions were right in mine eyes; and because _he_ said a thing, it was
_so_.

He was the Lord of my Heart, and the Source of mine Income. And in him
I saw nothing _funny_; for my sense of humor had not yet been awakened.

He looked at my hats and mocked them. Yet that inverted salad bowl
which he called a “derby” did not arouse my mirth. He waxed satirical
at the number of my puffs, and my coiffure was a daily target for his
wit. Yet, though he cut all the hair from off his head, and left it to
grow upon his face, I felt no merriment.

In his conceit he made of me a human joke.

But now that I am become a widow, I see him as he is. Therefore shall I
arise and smite him in his vanity.

Lo, what woman shall take men seriously, once she hath been married
unto one of these? For he, that seemeth a thing of beauty and wisdom
unto many virgins, is but a child in the eyes of his wife.

She knoweth the source of his opinions; and the padding of his
shoulders is not hidden from her. His grouches are always with her and
his digestion is her burden.

Go to! I have seen him at his mirror when he worked upon the parting of
his hair. He hath borrowed my powder for his chin, and with my perfume
hath he anointed himself. My nail-polish and my eau de cologne, they
were not safe from him.

I have flattered him and beheld his fall. I have said unto him, “My
love, thy judgment is above question and thy common sense above praise!”

And he hath smiled, as one that sippeth a wine of a rare vintage.

I have cooed unto him saying:

“Lo, thy reasoning powers and thine acumen are greater than those of
Sherlock Holmes!”

And I have observed his secret joy.

I have cried out:

“Oh, _why_ didst thou not go upon the stage? For thy shoulders are
better than Faversham’s and thy profile than E. H. Sothern’s!”

And he hath straightway _proposed_!

The youths of the land have I called “Mr. Smith”, and the octogenarians
addressed as “Silly Boy”. The fat man have I called “graceful”, and the
ourang-outang, “distinguished”.

And all of these were overcome.

Their fairy tales have I outstripped with better fairy tales, and their
devices with more subtile devices.

Verily, verily, men are as toys in mine hand; and, even as a child, do
I delight to play with them.

Lo, she that fisheth for an husband, laboreth against many odds, but
she that fisheth for amusement casteth her nets in pleasant waters, and
they shall return unto her heavy laden.


CHAPTER THREE

The Litany of the Summer Girl, which she chanteth continuously, morning
and night.

Oh, Lord, deliver me from the deadliness of the Summer Resort, and from
all the deadly things therein.

From the emptiness of moonlight evenings without a Man, and the
hollowness of life without a flirtation, now preserve me.

From the sentimental grafter and the _platonic friend_ oh spare me!

For, the one seeketh after cheap flirtations, and collecteth kisses,
as a woman doth trading stamps. And the other is as a wet powder-rag
which sticketh, but availeth nothing. Verily, verily, a breakfast-food
without sugar and cream is not more insipid than one of these.

From college youths, which are fresher than spring asparagus and more
tender than spring lamb, oh, deliver me!

From old bachelors, which are staler than last year’s canned goods, and
tougher than cold rarebits, oh, preserve me!

From the hotel “phonograph,” which repeateth the same old love-tunes
night after night, year in and year out, oh set me free!

From the _impressionist_ that cometh down over Sunday, deliver me!

For, when he hath loved me with all his heart, and with all his mind,
and with all his impudence, for an whole _week-end_, he shall depart;
and the scorners shall delight in their ha-has and the whisperers say,
“She was but a temporary distraction!”

From the _summer widower_, that seeketh to return unto flirtation by a
by-path, oh, hide me! For lo, I am not a consolation prize. Neither am
I a grafter, coveting other women’s troubles.

From all gossip, and freckles, and tan, and sand-in-the-shoes; from the
patronizing bride, and the youth that playeth ragtime; from the bathing
suit that shrinketh, and the nose that peeleth; from mosquitoes, and
cows and red ants; from hen parties, and springless straw rides, and
manless dances, oh, deliver me!

Feed me with bon-bons and stay me with novels!

Lead me beside the full streams, where the fish are plentiful and
the fishing worthy of the fishermaiden; that I may, peradventure,
find, _one eligible_, who shall rescue me from the Land of Innocuous
Desuetude, and usher me into the Kingdom of Matrimony!


CHAPTER FOUR

The Song of The Debutante which the Wise Virgin chanteth in her heart:

Oh, Providence in thy mercy, I beseech Thee, grant me these three:

A level head, a soft tongue, and a sense of humor! And the greatest of
these is a _sense of humor_.

Lo, I do not ask for wealth, neither for beauty, nor for love; for,
having a level head, and a soft tongue, all these things shall be added
unto me.

I sigh not for the charms of an houri; and curling hair I shall not
crave. Yea, though _one_ husband be all that is granted unto me in this
day of Progressive Matrimony, I shall not murmur.

Though my waist-line increaseth, year by year, and my teeth depart one
by one, I shall not be cast down. For, a cheerful disposition shall
sustain me, and the smile that cometh not off shall keep me charming.

Though chorus girls marry above me; though I never build mine own
bungalow; though my frocks be made over, and my complexion made up, I
shall not repine.

For, behold, I shall not take myself _seriously_, neither be filled
with false _illusions_ concerning men.

Lo, a woman that regardeth herself seriously is a human joke; and
a woman that dallyeth with illusions is as a babe that played with
matches. She burneth her own fingers.

Though my cooking be deadly, and my shoes “number fives” I shall not
despair. For a sense of humor shall cover me as a mackintosh, off which
the lemons, that fate casteth at me, shall roll as water. Verily,
verily, a woman without a sense of humor is as one that goeth into New
Jersey clad in lace hose. She layeth herself bare to constant _stings_;
she suffereth untold pangs.

Then grant me, I pray thee, this one panacea:

That I may laugh when men laugh, and the point of their jokes shall not
escape me.

That I may not tremble at their wrath; neither wither under their
sarcasm, nor repine at their grouches.

And that, all the days of my youth, I shall dwell in the enjoyment of
life, repartee, and the pursuit of an husband! Amen.


CHAPTER FIVE

Incline thine ear, O, my Daughter! For this is the Song of the _Bride_,
which containeth all the law and the “profits” of Matrimony.

I thank thee, O, my Beloved; for thou hast chosen me out of the
multitude of women that were _after_ thee.

Thou hast delivered me from spinsterhood and led me into the House of
Bondage.

Thy _brand_ is upon me!

I am thy Chattel.

Thy wishes shall be my wishes, thy tastes my tastes, and thy politics
my politics.

I shall have no personal opinions before thine and no other thought
before _thee_. Only my _tooth brush_ shall remain of all mine
individuality.

For lo, I have said in my heart, “Couldst thou love this man in a
shop-made suit and a polka dot tie? Couldst thou love him though he
lost his front hair? Couldst thou love him _without_ a collar?”

And my heart hath answered:

“Yea, verily! For I am the apple of his eye, and he is the source of
mine income. Therefore are we truly _mated_.”

Then, whatsoever thou doest, my beloved, it shall be right in my sight;
and whatsoever thou wearest thou shalt seem beautiful in mine eyes.

Even in thy _fishing_ clothes shall I adore thee; and if thou but
concedest to change thy collar and carry _one_ glove when we go forth
in public thou shalt appear sufficiently dressy unto _me_.

I shall take great care of thy digestion, and thy devotion will take
care of itself. I shall _not_ practise my cooking upon thee.

I shall believe whatsoever thou tellest me, even when I know it to be
_false_. I shall listen unto thy _fairy tales_ with respect.

I shall _delight_ in thine imagination and the works thereof.

I shall endeavor to like thee; for love passeth as the whirlwind, but
friendship is a rock which endureth forever.

I shall not laugh at thee, for I am _sane_.

When thou hookest my frocks crooked I shall not murmur, but shall urge
thee on with my cheers and praises. I shall not hear thy mutterings.

I shall remember thy pipe, thy razor, and thy morning newspaper, to
keep them holy.

Thy Desk shall be sacred from mine hands. Thou shalt have _one hook_
within the closet.

I shall be a _mother_ unto thee; yet shall I permit thee to treat me as
a _babe_, that thou mayest rest under thy favorite delusion. Whosoever
speaketh against thee I shall rend her with my finger nails and my
sarcasm.

I shall learn to be happy _without_ thee in order that I may be happy
_with_ thee, when thou chancest to be at home.

Thou shalt go thy ways untroubled; for I shall not be thy jailer but
thy jollier.

Verily, verily, I shall be _all_ things unto thee; even a wife, an
angel, a kitten, a cook, a chum, and a siren.

Yea, I shall be thine _whole harem_!


SELAH.



Transcriber’s Notes


Simple typographical errors were corrected. Punctuation and spelling
were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this
book; otherwise they were not changed.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. Inconsistent
hyphenation was not changed.

In the original book, all pages, except the ones with full-page
illustrations, included a decorative border. In the versions of this
eBook that include illustrations, that border is shown only once, in
the image of the Title Page. It has a yellow-green tint that may be an
artefact caused by the ageing of the paper. In the Plain Text version
of this eBook, that border is indicated only once, just before the
Title Page.





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