ht to woman, has
never deemed it consistent with his dignity to devote a minute to the
study of her character. He has never given way to her charms, he has
never felt her influence, he has never learned to smile kindly at her
little foibles and fads. The idea has never occurred to him to indulge
her, to treat her, in turn, as a beloved child, even sometimes a
spoiled one, as a friend whose advice is worth following nine times out
of ten, as a sweet companion either for moments of pleasure or for
those of studious retirement. For him woman is a necessary evil. He
puts up with her, and is always glad when she is gone. She annoys him,
provokes him--nay, even shocks him, and her frivolity is for him a
constant source of torment. He breathes more freely when at last he is
left alone or finds himself in the company of men at his club.

He is seldom generous, and is not infrequently a miser.

The woman-hater is always conceited, and most generally selfish, and
conceit and selfishness are the two worst, the two most objectionable,
pieces of furniture in the household of a married couple. The
woman-hater is also dull, and often sulky, which is worse still. With
him there can be no cheerfulness in the house, and dulness is the
bitterest enemy of happiness in matrimony.

The woman-hater has not a redeeming fault or foible which may enable
his wife to get hold of him. He has no weaknesses to make him lovable
or even tolerable. He is ironclad, and a woman cannot come near him
without getting a bruise of some sort or other. He will ever stand
before his wife a perfect model for her to look up to, and all her
pretty little womanly ways, being a closed letter to him, will be
wretchedly wasted on him.

Like all conceited men, the woman-hater has no humour in him. He cannot
for the life of him see a joke. A frivolous remark will make him frown.
He is a moral man with a vengeance, but all his morality and all the
gold in the world are not worth the smile of a genial, cheerful
husband. And, worst of all, the woman-hater is generally dyspeptic, and
if a woman marries a dyspeptic man she is done for.

The man-flirt is the most despicable creature on earth, but the
woman-hater is undoubtedly the most objectionable.

Yes, my dear lady, avoid the woman-hater, and, above all, don't marry
him. Have to your wedded husband a lover of women, full of foibles and
weaknesses, a man who understands and appreciates women. It will depend
upon you w