ll not concentrate.
He is nervous, irritable, and wretched. His appetite is capricious, and
he sleeps fitfully. For a few days he pulls himself together and plunges
into work, but the effort exhausts him and he falls back further than
before. He is unhappy and despondent, his viewpoint changes and the
future looks uninviting and he loses his courage and his faith in
himself. He hides all this from his family, he does not want wife and
children to know that he is losing his hold. He even makes desperate
efforts to keep fit while at home, and for a time he succeeds.
All this has been brought about by tremendous concentration of effort to
do ten times as much work as he should do, and it has all been done in
order to acquire riches and independence, not so much for his own sake
as for his family's sake.
Now, a wife who fails to see the handwriting on the wall is no wife at
all. Any wife who cannot tell, by a single look, exactly how her husband
feels is not quite what she should be. Some women may question this
declaration. They may regard it as a far-fetched indictment. The truth
nevertheless is,--and all good citizens are thankful that it is
so,--that if a man and woman live together for years, and during that
time work together in sympathy and love, and share the burdens of life
together, they grow toward each other; there is a psychic force that
binds them so that when the clouds begin to settle over one the other
promptly sees the mist and brings all her subtle skill and solicitude to
guard and fight in the other's interest. The "two hearts that beat as
one" are old hearts, hearts chastened by experience and mellowed by the
sorrows and joys of life, hearts that have gone through the dark spots
and the deep spots of affliction, and have loved and helped each other
all through the long journey to sunset's old age. God never inspired a
holier picture than the wrinkled face of a good old mother. The old
eyes, with the peering promise of a near peace in them; the toothless
mouth, whose words of cheer are records of the past; the wrinkled face,
the sad token of human frailty; the gentle word of welcome which age
trustingly bestows, all speak to younger hearts with hungry words, and
we hope that their lot is one of peace and contentment and happiness.
A wife, therefore, who has shared the burdens of life honestly and
willingly with her husband will promptly note when life's struggle is
becoming dangerous to her helpmate
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