t of the empty-headed coquettes you are raving and tearing
your hair about. Oh! yes, she is very handsome, and she dresses with
exquisite taste (the result of devoting the whole of her heart, mind and
soul to the subject, and never allowing her thoughts to be distracted
from it by any other mundane or celestial object whatsoever); and she
is very agreeable and entertaining and fascinating; and she will go
on looking handsome, and dressing exquisitely, and being agreeable and
entertaining and fascinating just as much after you have married her as
before--more so, if anything.

But _you_ will not get the benefit of it. Husbands will be charmed and
fascinated by her in plenty, but _you_ will not be among them. You
will run the show, you will pay all the expenses, do all the work. Your
performing lady will be most affable and enchanting to the crowd. They
will stare at her, and admire her, and talk to her, and flirt with her.
And you will be able to feel that you are quite a benefactor to your
fellow-men and women--to your fellow-men especially--in providing such
delightful amusement for them, free. But _you_ will not get any of the
fun yourself.

You will not get the handsome looks. _You_ will get the jaded face, and
the dull, lusterless eyes, and the untidy hair with the dye showing on
it. You will not get the exquisite dresses. _You_ will get dirty,
shabby frocks and slommicking dressing-gowns, such as your cook would
be ashamed to wear. _You_ will not get the charm and fascination. _You_
will get the after-headaches, the complainings and grumblings, the
silence and sulkiness, the weariness and lassitude and ill-temper that
comes as such a relief after working hard all day at being pleasant!

It is not the people who shine in society, but the people who brighten
up the back parlor; not the people who are charming when they are out,
but the people who are charming when they are in, that are good to
_live_ with. It is not the brilliant men and women, but the simple,
strong, restful men and women, that make the best traveling companions
for the road of life. The men and women who will only laugh as they
put up the umbrella when the rain begins to fall, who will trudge along
cheerfully through the mud and over the stony places--the comrades who
will lay their firm hand on ours and strengthen us when the way is dark
and we are growing weak--the evergreen men and women, who, like
the holly, are at their brightest and best wh