The west shore., March 21, 1891, Page 188, Image 6

188
Till' WEST SHORE.
It is easier to bear one great trouble than many small ones.
The loveliest flower is a thing without beauty to the one who is color
blind.
A young debutante with gold hair and apple-blossom complexion wore
recently, at her first dance, a floral bodice. The foundation of blue satin, cut
low, and the narrow strap across the satin whiteness of her shoulders were
literally covered with beautiful blue forget-me-nots. As if one could see and
ever forget ! ,
A hill looks steeer before you have climbed it than it does afterward i
a rose smells sweeter before you have plucked it than when you wear it on
your bosom i the dream of an anticipated pleasure is dearer than the dream
of a realized one ; and a burden is always heavier while you shrink from it
than it ii when you have bravely laid it upon your shoulder.
An editor of an eastern newsp.ier, in a column devoted to women, ad
vises them to be patient and all-suffering under insult from their husbands.
He Ix-gs them to even overlook unfaithfulness again and again, and try to win
the faithless head of the family back to the path of virtue. Now, it seems to
me that it is really time to stop educating women to make fools of themselves
and ( ringing cow'atds of their children. Who ever read advice to men to
overkxik unfaithfulness in their wives and "try to win them backagain?1'
The world is turning around so fast in these days that if you persist in teach
ing one code of morals for men and another for women, you are liable to be
pushed off into bottomless space.
Well, well ! The men are at it now. Here is one airing his bitter exe
nonce in married life in an eastern magazine. He begins by telling us in that
matter-of-course way which is dying a rapid death that he had led a fast
and free life, and sown his wild oats lavishly j but that, like most men, he had
come to see the error of this way of living, and had married with the idea of
living a w.iceful and very quiet life alone with his wife. But, lo I he had
married a young girl who was fond of society, dancing, theaters, operas, and
o on, and he found himself dancing attendance upon her "whims." He
considered himself an abused and injured individual, and the story concludes
with a dramatic scene and ominous indications of a " failure in marriage."
The moral ? Well, I could not understand exactly what moral he was trying
to leach t but the moral that I find in it is : Do not think, young men, that
you can leail fast lives and sow wild oats, and then suddenly settle down,
marry, jnd be ecsutii ally happy thereafter. It is too much to ask : to sow
wild (Mil at your own sweet will and then expect your wife to reap tame ones
therefrom. Ai ye tow, so shall ye reap men as well as women.
Checking off by the fingers, I should require several hands to enumerate
the women I know in my small world who, without having the excuse of
chronic invalidism, delicate health or any ill whatsoever, save disinclinatkin to
work, allow indulgent and uncomplaining husbands to rise and preiare their
own breakfasts, then after partaking thereof in a dull, lonely breakfast room,
to fumble alniut trying to put things to rights as liest they may, after which they
go out from a cheerless home to face the cares and worries of business life
while the languid wives dream away the morning hours on couches of down.
This, ttx, day after day, year after year. I am sure you know at least one
such woman. She is sure to tell you alxiut it in a languid, laughing way, as
an illustration of how " that dear goose of a John humors me i" and if she
detects a shade of disapproval in your expression, she will shrug her pretty
shoulders and laugh again and say: "Well, isn't k his own fault? He was
not satisfied till he married me." Poor man ! It is to be hoped he enjoys the
possesskin of such an exquisite luxury. He b vrry noble, and he would de
fend her in an instant but yet kIo you not think he must do an immense
amount of Minting sometimes when he lets himself out at the door in the
dull dawn ami looks up at the closed blinds?
Very often we catch a glimpse of an article in a magazine, headed " Is
beauty a blessing?" and the writer usually tries to prove, for the complacence
of the plain girl, that there are strong doubts as to whether beauty is a bless
ing. Well, it may not always prove a blessing to the possessor. Who knows
but that the lovely rose barred in on the lawn may passionately envy the
strong, golden dandelion that runs wild over the hills and meadows, and which
the very children crush down with impatient feet, failing to recognize its worth ?
Hut the woman who has beauty is a joy to every one who looks upon her ;
therefore, she is certainly a blessing, if not to herself, at least to all who make
up her world. Hut there is a beauty of mind, of character, of heart and soul,
that is a deeper blessing still. Do not try to be what is called a clever woman,
a sarcastic woman, a woman with a ready satire at command ; for such women
hurt too many gentle hearts that others may laugh ; they will betray a friend's
secret for the sake of entertaining a goodly company with their brilliant wit ;
they will smile and send a knife straight to your shrinking heart, simply be
cause they think someone is looking on who will enjoy the sport as noble
men shoot birds they do not want, only to see how straight an arrow they can
send i they will finally grow to be so shrewd, so cold, so caustic, that their
best friends will lose faith in them and shun them. But try to be amiable,
bright, well read and well bred ; learn to forget yourself and what specially in
terests you, and talk only of what lies near your companion's heart. Recently
I asked a lady the reason of her great social success. She laughed, and re
plied : u Candidly, when I was a very young girl I could not entertain one
guest even without shyness and embarrassment. But I told myself that
would not do. My parents were poor, so my social position was not assured ;
I was plain and kicking in grace and other charms ; I could neither play nor
sing. So, I made up my mind that I would be bright and agreeable, and
make myself interested in what interested others. That is the whole secret of
it." She had, you see, cultivated unselfishness until it had become second na
ture to her and that is what I want you to da
I do not wish any gentleman who may, quite by accident, glance into this
department, to feel slighted ; so I am going to write something for his special
interest. There are some things I do not like to see a man do. and I shall
mildly and timidly enumerate a few of them. I do not like to see him go
about or stand about or sit alwut with his hands thrust into his trousers pock-'
ets ; it looks indolent and lackadaisical, and besides, it makes many stitches at
the corners of those pockets for some busy little fingers. I do not like to see
him meet his wife on the street, or elsewhere, without showing her the same
respectful courtesy he would bestow upon any other honored Lady of his ac
quaintance t one moment of his valuable time will suffice to remove his hat
and give her a bright better still, tender glance and smile, and she will feel
proud of him. I do not like to see him wear loud clothes or jewelry, or use
perfumes or scented soaps, (this is a bomb in the enemy's camp, I know) or
wax his mustache, or use colored silk handkerchiefs, or allow the tip of the fin
est white one to peep out of his pocket. I know you wouldn't do any of these
dreadful things, dear sir, but you may know some poor fellow who does. I do
not like to hear him swear, or use slang with every other breath, or speak ill of
his neighbor i only think how much good his opinions might do if expressed in
simple language, while slang carries no force whatever. I know an editor
whose voice would reach far and wkle were it not muffled in slang. 1 do not
like to see him frown, or speak harshly, or show impatience to a little child ;
and I do not want ever to see him cruelly strike, brutally kick or be wantonly
cruel in any way to any of God's dumb animals not even the lowliest thing
that crawls. If you must take animal life, whether for food or for the peace
of a community, I ask you in Cod's name to take k quickly, humanely and
without torture. I do not like to see a man hire carriages for his sweetheart
to go a-pleasuring when he can not afford to send a carriage for his old, tired
mother to go shopping or to church. I know you are hurling exclamation and
interrogation points at me, but I mean k and I stick to k. I do not like to lee
him glance rudely or inquisitively or any other "ly," save the one that is the
siiffix to resctful at women in. public places. I do not like to hoar him
speak lightly of any woman, old or young, good or bad i h cheapens woman
hood, and it is an insult to his own mother not to reverence good women and
show at least a pitying respect for those who, while not being as good as she,
are still as virtuous as her son. Last, but most earnest of all, I do not like to
see a man stone a woman and let a nun go free. Hut as nothing that a wo
man writes to or alxxit a man is complete without a postscript, I will add that
I am bound to confess that the wry best man I ever knew takes a perfectly
childish dilight in keeping his hands in his pockets i the very politest to his
wife in company was the one from whom that same wife obtained a divorct
the other day on the charge of brutal treatment t and the one who has led the
cleanest life has the most humane pity for those who have fallen.