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CHAPTER THREE

Hearken, my Daughter, unto the parable of the merrie bachelor; hearken and be comforted.

For, I say unto thee, not one of these liveth but shall receive his just desert!

Now, in my youth, there came unto me such an one, saying, “Why shall I marry? For lo, have I not all the comforts of home, at half the expense? Behold, I have three good meals a day and a den filled with gew-gaws, which are the work of many damsels. Yea, and not one of them but yearneth to sew on my buttons.

“Moreover, I can go forth into the country in the summer time without having to pawn mine overcoat; and in the winter I can go unto my club without having to perjure my soul.

“Verily, verily, my life is like unto an eleven-course dinner.

“For on Monday I may talk art unto a high-browed damsel; and on Tuesday I may talk love unto a widow; and on Wednesday I may talk nonsense unto a fluffy thing.

“But a married man must talk domestic economy unto the same woman every night, which is like a table d’hote menu, of a deadening monotony.

“Behold, I offer no apology for my singleness; for I am unashamed! And my one fear is that I shall awaken from this dream!”

And I answered him, saying, “Even so!”

Yet, as time passed, the hairs dropped one by one from the head of the bachelor, until it shone as a great light.

Lo, from eating and drinking much good food and having no worries, he became round and pudgy, like unto a Billiken.

And the maidens of the land who had trembled at his approach now tittered merrily at sight of him. Yea, whereas, before, he had been able to spend an whole evening with one of them, bringing a box of cheap candy, he now spent all his savings upon them.

For it requireth real orchids and champagne to make a fat man fascinating.

And he observed the married men of his acquaintance, that from overworking they had still kept their figures and were interesting. Yea, and they flirted with their stenographers and were merry; but the bachelor not having to labor had accomplished nothing; for he had spent his days in yawning.

Then he came unto me, crying:

“Lo! At last I would marry and settle down. But she that I once loved hath married another. And how shall I choose a wife? For all women are as one woman unto me.”

And I mocked him with my ha-has, saying:

“My Son, I adjure thee, wed any woman thou canst! For the buds of the Nation are not collecting antiques. Yet, peradventure, one of these shall accept thee as a good thing; or another shall take thee as a last resort, when she hath passed her fifth season. Go to! Thou hast eaten the bread of life without honey thereon, and thou shalt hereafter be satisfied with the crumbs.”

Verily, verily, life without love is as a pipe without a light; but a man without a wife is as a helpless barge without a tow-boat.

CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, hear now the Thanksgiving Day prayer of a bachelor:

Oh, Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast vouchsafed me another year of freedom. That I am still safe!

That Thou hast made me what I am– wise, unconquerable, immune!

That, although I have many times lost my heart, I have never yet lost my head.

That I did not marry my first love.

That, though the hairs of my head be numbered, they are still sufficient to cover my bald spot.

That, though my forehead gradually becometh more intellectual, it is not yet bare.

That I have never yet written a letter which could be held against me in a breach-of-promise suit, but have confined all my tender messages unto telegrams and postcards.

That all my words have been discreet and mine actions cautious and self-restrained.

That, although maidens may bestow upon me purple neckties, spotted scarfs, plaid mufflers and orange-colored gloves at Christmastide, I shall not be required to wear them.

That I am still regarded as eligible among maidens and matrons. That they have not found me out!

That, day by day, my heart is acquiring a coat of cement and my conscience a coat of mail.

That I have carefully preserved all my emotions in alcohol!

That there is no marrying nor giving in marriage in Heaven!

Yea, for good cigars, bachelor flats, vaudeville, briar pipes, clubs, apartment hotels, stenographers, comic operas, taxicabs and widows, Good Lord I thank Thee!

And now in the name of peace and contentment, vouchsafe me another year of single blessedness.

Yea, give me liberty or give me death! Amen!

SELAH

BOOK OF SIRENS

CHAPTER ONE

Behold, my Daughter, I have parted from mine Appendix and my conscience is clear! Therefore do I fear but three things in all the world:

And the first of these is a mouse.

And the second is embonpoint.

But the third is a Trained Nurse!

For I have watched her at her work.

And, I charge thee, in the flutter of her apron there lurketh more danger than in the whole chorus of a comic opera. For a chorus girl practiseth her wiles upon strong men, but she seeketh him only that is stricken and at her mercy.

Yea, when he is down-and-out she getteth in her fine work.

Upon her head she weareth a cute cap, which glorifieth her as a halo in his sight. She walketh upon heels of velvet and cooeth unto him in a voice of silver.

Her smile runneth over and will not come off.

She hath dove’s eyes.

She batheth his brow with spikenard and myrrh, and anointeth him with alcohol. She arrangeth his pillows and comforteth his soul with words of cheer. She taketh his pulse!

He yearneth to be babied – and she babyeth him.

He pineth for sympathy – and she sympathizeth.

He seeketh comfort – and she maketh him comfortable.

And what chance hath a damsel at a pink tea beside a ministering angel such as one of these?

Go to, thou Simple One! What strength is there in a sick man that he shall flee before all the temptations of St. Anthony, in one?

Nay, though he be of stone and of adamant, though his heart be encased in barbed wire, yet shall he turn upon his pillow sighing:

“Alas Miriam is all right; but a wife was never like this!”

Yet how guileless is human nature! For, ye will keep your silver in a strong box and your jewels behind bars of iron; yet will ye trust your beloved in the hands of one of these.

Verily, verily, the Lorelei is passeé and witches are no more.

But a Little Trained Nurse is a dangerous thing!

CHAPTER TWO

Verily, my Daughter, there be these three: the maid, the matron, and the widow; and the luckiest of these is the widow.

For she hath graduated from the School of Experience and her crêpe veil glorifieth her as a diploma.

And, though she may live in a bachelor flat, none shall gossip about her; but whatsoever she doeth shall seem “cute” in the eyes of men.

When she talketh wittily they shall not say, “She knoweth too much”; and when she talketh foolishly they shall declare that she but seeketh to appear simple. If she smoketh a cigarette, she will make excuse, saying, “Mine husband taught me how to do this thing”, and all men shall call her “fascinating”.

Yea, she possesseth all the glory of matrimony, even unto “Mrs.” on her name, and none of the discomforts. She shall marry a second time if she so desireth; and if she doth not, who shall say that she could not?

For one man hath set his seal of approval upon her, and where one hath led the rest shall follow like unto a flock of Geese. Yea, in the matter of women, man hath great faith in the judgment of his brother, but he doubteth his own taste.

And, though a widow be neither wealthy, nor good to look upon; though she be fat and forty and frivolous; yet she understandeth how to make a man comfortable – which is the secret of all wisdom. She shall feed the lambs from the chafing-dish and the lions with honeyed words; she shall coax the smoker to smoke; she shall hold a match to his cigar; she shall bring a footstool for his feet and a couch pillow for his head; she shall mend his gloves and listen eagerly to his stories unto seven times seven times.

Yet envy her not, my daughter, for hath she not been married once? And a woman who hath once been married hath earned whatsoever she receiveth.

CHAPTER THREE

Heed my instructions, oh my Son, that thou mayest understand the Seven Poses of Woman!

For, whether she dwelleth in the high places or in the low places, her nets are cast into the sea, and her hooks are bated with perfume and chafing-dishes and domesticity.

Yea, though she hideth in a studio apartment and cryeth “I shall never marry!”, yet doth she seek to lure thee with joss sticks and pink tea and rarebits and the artistic temperament.

Likewise, beware when she patteth thy coat lapel; when she slippeth her hand confidingly into thine overcoat pocket be not persuaded. For the touch of a damsel’s fingers is alluring, but a wife’s “touch” is expensive.

Lo, when she mothereth thee; when she runneth her fingers through thy top hair; when she inquireth concerning thy health and urgeth thee to wear rubbers, be prepared to escape her; for, so doth she shear the lamb for the slaughter.

When her shoe cometh untied, when her side-comb falleth out, when her hair tumbleth down, in the game of tennis, turn away thine eyes, lest thou be undone. For, Circe was as naught, beside a woman with flowing hair.

When she “turneth” her ankle upon the golf links, I charge thee do not bear her in thine arms to safety; but, for thy soul’s sake, flee in search of a doctor, ’ere she turneth thine head also.

When she putteth perfume upon thy locks, oh beware of her! For she doeth this that she may mark thee for her own; and, until it be washed away, thou shalt be covered with shame in the eyes of the world.

But, when she coaxeth thee to be adorned, when she seeketh to manicure thy nails; when she patteth thy fingers and yearneth to bathe them with sweet ointments; when she weareth a cute apron and sitteth more near, I charge thee, clasp thine hands behind thee, crying:

“Nay! Thou mayest hold them, but thou shalt not manicure them!”

For by this strategy fell the Benedicts.

Go to, my Son! Ask me not how I have learned of Woman, concerning all her poses.

For lo, I am a woman, and I have tried them.