CHAPTER THREE
Behold, my Daughter, the Lord maketh a man—but the wife maketh an husband.
For Man is but the raw material whereon a woman putteth the finishing touches.
Yea, and whatsoever pattern of husband thou selectest, thou shalt find him like unto a shop-made garment, which must be trimmed over and cut down, and ironed out, and built up to fit the matrimonial situation.
Verily, the best of husbands hath many raw edges, and many unnecessary pleats in his temper, and many wrinkles in his disposition, which must be removed.
Lo, I charge thee, be wary in thy choice. For, many shall call, but few shall propose. And, a wise damsel shall with difficulty select that which fitteth her disposition and matcheth her tastes—even that which shall not pinch upon the bank account, neither stretch upon the truth, neither shrink nor run nor fade.
At the second-hand counter thou shalt find many widowers, which have been remodelled by another hand. And these are easy to acquire. Yet an hand-me-down may have been spoiled in the making, and become frayed at the edges of the temper, and shiny on the seamy-side.
But a bachelor who hath passed forty is a remnant; and there is no good material left in him. His sentiments are moth-eaten and his tender speeches shop-worn. His manners shall require much basting and his morals many patches. The gloss hath been rubbed off his illusions and the color hath gone out of his emotions. Yet, a clever damsel shall, peradventure, take one of these and remodel him to seem as new.
For the happiest wife is not she that getteth the best husband, but she that maketh the best of that which she getteth. Verily, verily, an husband is a work of art which must be executed by hand; for there is no factory which turneth them out to order.