o her. Lay open to her your heart and soul.
Trust her with your confidence, she trusts you with hers. The men who
succeed are those who make confidants of their wives. The marriages
that are happy are those where husbands and wives have no thoughts
apart. The children that are well raised are those that have had the
example of loving and confiding parents before them. Proud of your
confidence, she will labor to deserve it. She will study to please
you. In your prosperity she will be your delight; your stay and
comfort in your adversity. She will return your confidence and
affection in full measure. Gloom will vanish from the hearth, and
happiness will hold dominion within the home. "Her children will rise
up before her and call her happy; and her husband will sing aloud her
praises."

Marriage is, perhaps, the only game of chance ever invented at which it
is possible for both players to lose. Too often, after many
sugar-coated words, and several premeditated misdeals on both sides,
one draws a blank and the other a booby. After patiently angling in
the matrimonial pool, one draws a sunfish and the other a minnow. One
expects to capture a demigod, who hits the earth only in high places,
but when she has thoroughly analyzed him, she finds nothing genuine,
only a wilted chrysanthemum and a pair of patent leather shoes, while
he in return expected to wed a wingless angel who would make his Edenic
bower one long drawn out sigh of aesthetic bliss. The result is very
often that he is tied to a slattern, who slouches around the house with
her hair in tins, a dime novel in her hand, with a temper like aqua
fortis and a voice like a cat fight--a voice that would make a cub wolf
climb a tree; a fashionable butterfly, whose heart is in her finery and
her feathers; who neglects her home to train with a lot of intellectual
birds; whose glory is small talk; who saves her sweetest smiles for
society and her ill temper for her family altar. If I were tied to
such a female as that, do you know what I would do? You don't, eh?
Well, neither do I. There was a time, we are told, when to be a Roman
was to be greater than to be a king; yet there came a time when to be a
Roman was to be a vassal or a slave. Change is the order of the
universe, and nothing stands. We must go forward, or we must go
backward. We must press on to grander heights, to greater glory, or
see the laurels already won turned to ashes upon our brow. We