a woman at five-and-thirty
or so is at her prime. What do you say, sir?"

Mr. Warrington looked, for a moment, askance at the clergyman. "Confound
all women, I say!" muttered the young misogynist. For which sentiment
every well-conditioned person will surely rebuke him.

CHAPTER XXXV. Entanglements

Our good Colonel had, no doubt, taken counsel with his good wife, and
they had determined to remove their little Hetty as speedily as possible
out of the reach of the charmer. In complaints such as that under which
the poor little maiden was supposed to be suffering, the remedy of
absence and distance often acts effectually with men; but I believe
women are not so easily cured by the alibi treatment. Some of them will
go away ever so far, and forever so long, and the obstinate disease
hangs by them, spite of distance or climate. You may whip, abuse,
torture, insult them, and still the little deluded creatures will
persist in their fidelity. Nay, if I may speak, after profound and
extensive study and observation, there are few better ways of securing
the faithfulness and admiration of the beautiful partners of our
existence than a little judicious ill-treatment, a brisk dose of
occasional violence as an alterative, and, for general and wholesome
diet, a cooling but pretty constant neglect. At sparing intervals
administer small quantities of love and kindness; but not every day, or
too often, as this medicine, much taken, loses its effect. Those dear
creatures who are the most indifferent to their husbands, are those who
are cloyed by too much surfeiting of the sugar-plums and lollipops of
Love. I have known a young being, with every wish gratified, yawn in her
adoring husband's face, and prefer the conversation and petits soins
of the merest booby and idiot; whilst, on the other hand, I have seen
Chloe,--at whom Strephon has flung his bootjack in the morning, or whom
he has cursed before the servants at dinner,--come creeping and fondling
to his knee at tea-time, when he is comfortable after his little nap and
his good wine; and pat his head and play him his favourite tunes; and,
when old John, the butler, or old Mary, the maid, comes in with the
bed-candles, look round proudly, as much as to say, Now, John, look how
good my dearest Henry is! Make your game, gentlemen, then! There is the
coaxing, fondling, adoring line, when you are henpecked, and Louisa
is indifferent, and bored out of her existence. There is the m