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  SIX BAD HUSBANDS
  AND
  SIX UNHAPPY WIVES




BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX


  POEMS OF PASSION
  POEMS OF PLEASURE
  POEMS OF POWER
  POEMS OF CHEER
  POEMS OF SENTIMENT
  MAURINE
  THREE WOMEN
  KINGDOM OF LOVE
  POEMS OF PROGRESS
  POEMS OF EXPERIENCE
  YESTERDAYS


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_For list of other works see end of volume._


GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.




  SIX BAD HUSBANDS
  AND
  SIX UNHAPPY WIVES

  BY

  ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

  Author of 'Poems of Passion'
  'Poems of Pleasure,' etc., etc.




  LONDON
  GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.
  12 AND 13 HENRIETTA STREET
  COVENT GARDEN. W.C.
  1912

  _All Rights Reserved_




FOREWORD


The six wives described in this little book are types which exist all
over the Christian world.

They may be found everywhere, save in the Orient.

This does not signify that the unselfish, tactful, tender and worthy
woman is not in the foreground in the picture of life.

She is.

But her virtues, her nobility, and her ofttimes sorrow, have all been
so frequently depicted, that many women who are the creators of their
own misfortunes, fall into the error of believing they belong to her
class.

It is the writer's impression, based on observation, that a larger
number of men marry for love than do women.

Just why so many men who begin married life with love and ideals, end
it by being bad husbands, needs a wider and more careful analysis than
this little book gives.

But it can do no good wife any harm to study herself, and in reading
these pages, try and discover if she appears therein.

The noblest study of womankind is herself.

     THE AUTHOR.




SIX BAD HUSBANDS AND SIX UNHAPPY WIVES




I


The first bad husband had been a very good man until he married. He had
built up a successful business and a fair name for himself, and he had
done it all without help, and without harming any one else.

He climbed without pulling others down; and he did little acts of
kindness as he went along, never hesitating to give a dollar where he
felt it was needed, even when anxious about the coming of another
dollar to fill its place.

He helped indigent relatives; he aided a widowed cousin to educate her
daughter, and always remembered the children in his neighbourhood at
Christmas time.

And when he was thirty-two, he decided to settle down and have a home
of his own. He married a young woman who had distinguished herself as
a bright scholar at college, and he took her away from the drudgery of
the schoolroom, where she had been teaching for two years after she
graduated. He placed her in a pretty home, and gave her every comfort
and all his love and attention.

The wife kept the home in good order, and seemed to be very well
satisfied with her condition for a time. When people praised her
husband for what he had accomplished alone and with no help, rising
from the ranks, as it were, to a place of influence in life's army, she
smiled and showed satisfaction.

But after a year passed by she began to wish her husband had acquired
more polish--that he had enjoyed better advantages--and she found
herself irritated by his manners and his speech.

It pleased her immensely when any one spoke of her as 'a superior
woman.' She related such compliments to her husband; and he, too, was
pleased, and told her how fortunate he was to have won a wife of such
intellectual brilliancy.

Ofttimes he repeated similar compliments to her; telling how proud he
felt when other people recognised his good luck. But, little by little,
the pride of the husband abated; and just in proportion to the growing
self-satisfaction of the wife. As she talked more, he talked less; he
grew taciturn; his speech became halting, and his manner constrained.

They had been married five years when this supposedly good and moral
husband displayed his badness. He brought home a gift to his wife--one
he had thought would give her pleasure. She took great pride in her
house, and loved to decorate it with odd and beautiful things.

So he had seen this vase in a window and brought it to her, with almost
the vanished look of pleasure in his recently lined face.

The wife looked at it, and her brow contracted. Then she said rather
petulantly, 'Dear, you would be wise to consult me before you buy
anything for the house; you must know by this time that your own taste
is not to be relied upon.'

Then the wife stood aghast as the always gentle and kindly man burst
forth. He said:

'I will be DASHED if I endure this any longer.'

Having heard his own voice say 'DASHED' for the first time, he grew
reckless and continued:

'I am tired of this life; tired of you. I want you to leave me. I once
thought I was something of a man, but you have convinced me that I am
absolutely worthless, save as a money-maker. You can take my money and
go. I will make enough more to keep myself in comfort and peace. You
have convinced me that my taste is vulgar; my manners bad; my speech
uncouth. You have convinced me that you are a superior woman, and quite
as plainly, I am made to understand that I am an inferior man.

'You have changed my open and generous nature. I have never been
selfish or niggardly with you; yet you have made me feel that I wronged
you by my liberality to my poor relatives. You think I should save this
money for some future rainy day. I have grown afraid of having any
generous act of mine known, lest it cause reproof and frowns at home.

'You have made me afraid to talk in your presence. You knew I was not
a college man when you married me, but since our marriage you have
convinced me that I am an utter ignoramus. I am thankful to any one who
helps me to improve my speech and manners in the right way, for I am
ambitious enough to want to better myself as I grow older.

'But you never permit me to tell a story without taking the words from
my mouth and telling it over.

'You continually humiliate me in the presence of other people by
disputing any statement I make and trying to prove me wrong and
yourself right.

'No man of any self-respect can enjoy himself in the society of a woman
who treats him in this manner; no man can keep on loving a woman who
treats him so, and I confess that I no longer love you, and want to go
back to my old bachelor freedom.

'My home is the last place on earth to which I look for happiness, and
my wife is the last person to whom I look for loving companionship.

'The very best impulses of my nature I have to hide from you, because
you do not approve of my liberality and generosity.

'And you have convinced me so absolutely that I am your mental
inferior, that I will no longer compel you to live with me.'

Then this bad husband went out and slammed the door and did not come
back again.

And afterwards there was a divorce obtained on the grounds of
incompatibility, and the deserted wife told her friends of the terrible
language this bad husband had used to her, and of his brutal conduct.




II


The second bad husband was none too good, perhaps, in the beginning.
But he had grown thoroughly tired of the life he lived at clubs and
hotels, and from the very depths of his heart he longed for HOME.

He had experienced every type of flirtation which women make possible
for an attractive man from his freshman college days to old age. He had
come to a state of mind where he questioned if there were any really
sensible girls and trustworthy wives, when he met his fate and ceased
to question, and simply believed.

He believed he had met the perfect woman. He told her how he longed for
a home, and he asked her to be his wife.

When she accepted him he was so happy that he simply cast all his old
ideas of women to the winds, and with these ideas he cast all the
wisdom which he had accumulated through his bachelorhood.

Ofttimes in the past he had said that women needed to be governed;
needed a master; that they became petty tyrants if given too much
respectful consideration, or when their wishes were consulted on
matters of any import to the husband.

Yet in face of all the bad things this man had said about the sex, he
began his married life by asking the girl he married to choose the way
she preferred to live, instead of telling her how he wished to live.

Of course he had told her from the beginning of his love-making, that
he was tired of having no home; that a club or a hotel, with all the
comforts money could purchase, meant only four walls, and that a home
with a wife and love and peace and order and system, represented his
idea of heaven.

Nevertheless, when he said the wife could choose her way of living,
she promptly chose a suite in an expensive hotel, and, after a year,
she expressed a desire to go to Europe and stay through the London and
Paris seasons.

It was with reluctance that she came home finally, for she was a
beautiful girl, and she had been much admired abroad.

After their return the husband asserted his wish again for a home, and,
again reluctantly, the wife consented. She spoiled it all, however, by
continually talking of the distaste she had for domestic obligations.

'I hate the sight of a kitchen,' she said, 'and I detest thinking about
what I must order for meals three times a day. And servants are such
hopeless problems; and one is so tied down by housekeeping.'

Of course, with such an attitude of mind, housekeeping became a burden;
servants proved inefficient; and the good wife of this bad man found
nothing to talk about when her husband came home in the evening but
the trouble she had had in the domestic realms.

A new retinue of servants appeared regularly each week, and finally,
after a year, the home was given up and the hotel became the retreat of
the unfortunate man and wife. She convinced him that she was breaking
down under the strain of housekeeping.

A second attempt was made the next year, with the same result, and
after the breaking up of that home the wife wanted to go and travel
in Europe with another unsatisfied wife whose husband was too busy to
accompany her.

So she went away for three months and her husband lived at the club.

When she returned she found the bad man very dissatisfied and inclined
to find fault.

He said he wanted a home; he wanted a domestic wife, and he wanted
children.

Then the woman who bore his name fell to weeping, and she sobbed out
that she was sorry she came home, if he only wanted to scold her and
find fault with her; and she declared she was not physically strong
enough to become the mother of children. She gravely hinted that she
was a victim of some serious malady which would cause her death if she
attempted to be a mother--her physician had told her so.

The bad man gave vent to an audible sneer at this juncture. He said he
knew all about the doctors who told selfish and unwomanly wives such
stories, just to please them and to keep them as his patients. But,
he declared, he understood God's laws and the nature of normal human
beings well enough to know that not one woman in five hundred, who was
able to journey about the world by land and sea, and go sight-seeing
and to attend receptions, would in any way endanger her life by
becoming a mother if she took any care of herself and desired the child.

Then the wife became very hysterical and went home to her mother, and
said her husband had called her all kinds of names; that he had made
her homecoming unhappy, and that she could never live with him again.
She said he was a coarse brute, who lived wholly in the senses and did
not understand a delicate woman.

She grew so ill that her sympathetic physician ordered an ocean voyage
for her, and she went abroad again. While she was away her brute of
a husband became entangled in a love affair with another woman. When
she came home the matter was public gossip! and everybody said what a
heartless creature he was to carry on so, when his poor wife was ill,
and away for her health.

And so, after due season, there was another divorce of an unhappy wife
from a bad husband.




III


The third bad husband fell violently in love with a very handsome girl,
and he was like a man in a fever until he gained her consent to be his
wife.

He had been an only son of his mother, and the girl was an only
daughter of typical, doting American parents.

She was a belle in a small way; admired in her circle for her beauty,
dancing, and music, and generally considered an amiable and virtuous
young woman, who would be a prize worth the winning of any man.

The young man was equally popular, and his success in the business
world, together with his education and social standing, made him seem
a very suitable husband for the pretty belle. The husband was popular
in his club, and he was proud of his athletic prowess and his good
fellowship with manly men.

When his fiancée asked him to bring her a chair or a fan or to get her
shawl, and kept him busy waiting on her he laughed with delight at the
novel tasks assigned to him, and felt that he was a royal courtier in
the kingdom of beauty.

The engagement was a brief one; and the wedding was a brilliant affair.

Everybody declared that it was an ideal union, and all the outlook was
toward perfect happiness.

They did not possess wealth; a simple competence only, which enabled
them to begin housekeeping with one maid. The maid did not stay long,
and the first cloud on the happiness of the home was in the difficulty
the young wife found in keeping any maid more than a few months.

Soon after the honeymoon the young husband realised that his position
of courtier in the kingdom of beauty was growing rather difficult.

He was obliged to go to his office at nine o'clock in the morning,
but the frequent intervals between the departure of one maid and the
arrival of another, made a similar frequency of a breakfast at the
club or restaurant, and, before his departure from the house, he was
often requested to 'be a darling and bring his own lovey dovey a glass
of milk and a bit of fruit.'

Knowing that he had taken his 'lovey dovey' from a home where she
always breakfasted in bed, the devoted husband felt it his duty to make
life as pleasant as possible for her; yet the position of butler and
maid combined was not pleasing to his manly spirit. Still he liked to
be obliging, and he continued to do her bidding.

Between the basement kitchen and the sleeping-room of the young couple,
two flights of stairs intervened, and it seemed never to occur to the
mistress of the household that it was a hardship for any one save
herself to go up and down these stairs a dozen times in a brief space
of time on errands for her comfort.

The husband prospered, and engaged two more domestics for his wife. But
with increased service her demands increased--and confusion instead of
order reigned.

Maids were called to the top floor on trivial errands, while they were
engaged in duties in the basement, and they were sent to the corner box
to mail letters, to the grocery store, or the chemist's, or on errands
a half-dozen times a day.

When they could not go, or when they were not there, 'darling husband'
was commissioned to be errand-boy. He was seldom enabled to finish his
cigar or read his paper in the evening without being asked to go up
or down stairs, to bring a chair, shawl, or book, or a box of bonbons
for his wife's pleasure, or to run to the corner to get something she
needed.

He became skilled in the work of a lady's maid in the continual demand
made upon him to assist his wife in fastening her gowns.

After three years the situation in which the young man found himself
began to prey upon his mind. For it grew worse instead of better.

'I am no longer a manly man,' he said to himself, 'I am not the head
of a house; I am an employé of a pretty woman. I am a combination of
lackey, valet, butler, head waiter, and maid of all work. I haven't
even a half day or an evening off; not a regular weekly time I can call
my own, as most domestics have--I am going to strike.'

But when he made his first protest his wife became hysterical and sent
for her mother.

The mother said the husband was a brute to refuse to bring up the
breakfast tray to a poor delicate woman, who had an inefficient and
inconsiderate servant. Any man with half a heart, she said, would
have shown sympathy and kindness in such a situation. One word led to
another, until a very unpleasant condition of things existed in the
household.

He told the mother-in-law that it was her daughter's fault that she
could never keep a servant; that servants would leave when they were
imposed upon and overworked, and that it might, in time, be possible
for a husband to leave unless greater consideration was shown in the
small matters of daily life.

He said there was no pleasure to be had in a house with a woman who
made every human being under the roof a slave to her caprices, and who
was so utterly selfish that she could not understand how any one might
object to being ordered about on errands night and day.

This scene was only the beginning of perpetual scenes. The husband
began to stay away in the evenings. He often remained away at dinner,
and the neglected wife wept upon her mother's sympathetic bosom.

And in due course of time a separation and divorce occurred. Looking
back over her married life, the wife was unable to see wherein she had
failed. And everybody said she was such a beautiful woman; so faithful;
so amiable; so accomplished, and so evidently fond of her husband.

But everybody had not lived under the same roof with her.




IV


The fourth bad husband was a popular man and much sought after socially.

He was dearly loved by his relatives--his mother, his sister, and a
young cousin who lived with his parents, and whose orphaned childhood
he had made bright by his care. She was fourteen and his young sister
sixteen, when he married the compelling woman.

He had always said he should never marry until he met one who swept
away all other considerations, save possessing her. One day at a
dinner party in the house of a charming hostess, he met her. And all
considerations were at once swept aside, and to win this girl for his
wife became the one thought of his heart.

It was impossible for any woman to have greater proof of a man's
complete adoration for her than this man gave this girl. Everybody who
knew him spoke of his absolute surrender to her charms.

She seemed equally in love, and the wedding followed closely on the
announcement of the engagement.

The young wife was pleasing in appearance, cultivated and accomplished.
Society thought she was eminently suited to be the wife of a man who
had long been such a society favourite.

The man's family welcomed her with open arms. So unselfish, and kind,
and ever generous had this son, and brother, and protector been, that
he made those who loved him partake of his own generous nature. They
had long urged him to marry, to make a home for himself; and when he
chose the charming girl they admired for his mate, they were all ready
to take her into their hearts.

It is seldom one finds a really good mother-in-law. As a rule the
mothers of men, especially, are petty and selfish in their attitude
to the son's wife. They feel the woman's jealousy at the intrusion
of another woman into the man's life. It is the most common phase of
feminine weakness and injustice.

But this particular mother was utterly incapable of anything but
sweetness, kindness, tender love and generosity toward her son. She was
broad and high in her thoughts of him. She wanted him to marry and to
be happy.

Yet before he had been a husband three months, a troubled look came
into the eyes of the good mother; the sixteen-year-old sister had grown
grave; and the fourteen-year-old cousin became curiously timid about
showing her cousin and protector the impulsive affection which was in
her heart.

And the man, the young husband, son, brother, and friend, became
constrained in the presence of his family.

All this change had come about through the unreasoning jealousy of the
young wife.

Despite the loyal love and romantic passion which she had inspired in
the heart of her husband; despite the cordial good will and affection
shown her by his family, she was jealous of the unselfish love he gave
any and every one besides herself. She wanted to be the only individual
upon whom he bestowed any mark of affection.

Curiously enough, she seemed to consider this state of mind an evidence
of her great love; and she made no secret of her jealousy. She expected
her husband to feel complimented by her attitude of mind. When he was
annoyed or unhappy over it, she accused him of a lack of love for her.

'If you really loved me, you would understand,' she said.

All his former society friends, the women who had entertained him as
a bachelor, she regarded with suspicion and dislike. So open was her
hostility that she soon made herself unpopular; and invitations to the
homes of her husband's old friends grew to be very formal affairs.

For a time the young husband sought to overcome the jealousy of his
wife by yielding to her whims, and by devoting himself more and more to
her. But this increased her tendency to tyranny.

Then he tried to reason calmly with her; but she was incapable of
logical discussion. She accused him of 'standing up for his family and
friends against his wife,' and went into hysterical tears.

Finally, tired of scenes, he avoided any reference to the subject,
and decided to do what he felt was just and right, and abide by the
consequences.

But the relations between him and his family were robbed of all
their old freedom and happiness; he was in that most distressing of
situations--for a man with a kind and tender heart--between his blood
relatives and his wife.

Socially he became a dead letter. His wife had made herself so
unpopular, and her jealousy was so pronounced, that society was glad
to have its formal invitations answered by formal cards.

Still there were women who liked the charming and courteous man, and
would seek to enjoy a chat with him on every possible occasion. These
occasions usually came to the knowledge of the suspicious wife, and
resulted in further accusations of deception and intrigue.

One day the bad husband decided that he had endured all he could
endure, and he deliberately gave his wife cause for a divorce on
statutory grounds.

'I always knew he was deceiving me,' the unhappy wife said, and
everybody sympathised with her.




V


The fifth bad husband had been the merriest and jolliest young man in
the neighbourhood where he found his wife. He was twenty-nine years old
when he married, and his wife was twenty-two. She was very bright, and
considered a leader in her social circle.

The young man was so witty and so full of fun, that he had always been
popular with girls and, indeed, with women of all ages. Old ladies
liked him; he made them laugh and forget their sorrows. Young matrons
liked him; he made them forget they were not girls. And spinsters liked
him, for he seemed to be just as happy when with them as with young
girls.

Such a fund of good spirits opened the door of every circle to him.
No one analysed him mentally, to see whether he was possessed of any
profound learning under the surface brightness and mirthfulness; he was
such good company that he carried people along with him and made life
seem worth while wherever he was.

His wife had found him delightful as a lover; and, while she did not
possess a keen sense of humour, she was young and care-free, and
enjoyed the same amusements. The two seemed very congenial.

The young man possessed a fair competence and good business abilities.
He was popular with his associates, and there was nothing to hinder
their marriage from proving a happy one. So it seemed in the beginning.

After a few years had passed, the wife developed intellectual
tastes and took up a course of study. The husband was proud of her
and encouraged her in her pursuits. He was very much occupied with
business, and his wealth was on the increase. Two children had blessed
the union, and he was very devoted to them.

He had never been a church-going man, but had helped charities and
benevolent institutions, and he believed in God and immortality.

Meanwhile he lived in full enjoyment of all the things of earth. He
liked a good meal, well cooked and served. He liked a good cigar. He
enjoyed good company, music, cards, dancing, and fun and life. He had
never sought unworthy friends, or low associates of either sex. But
he wanted people about him who were optimistic, and who liked a good
laugh, and he did not care for the very serious side of life.

He never read problem novels, or went to see problem plays, and he
delighted in comic opera and humorous literature. For several years his
wife had been his comrade in all these things. But as she developed
intellectually, and as she studied into the metaphysical thought of the
world, she seemed to be bored by the things which had once given her
pleasure.

It did not occur to her that she could keep in touch with the human
side of life, and with her husband's tastes, and still grow out into
larger ideals.

She said one could not serve God and Mammon, or obey two masters. And
she felt she must obey the call of her soul. She forgot that the call
of love is also the call of the soul.

So her husband began to go to the comic opera and the social dance
alone or with a man friend. And he began to find it difficult to
converse with his wife on any subject of mutual interest. He felt she
was greatly his superior, and he was ofttimes very lonely.

He did not give vent to many spontaneous witticisms as of old, and for
the first time he felt he was ageing.

His wife talked of matters, and books, and theories of life which
seemed a million miles away from his sphere of thought.

As time passed she grew more and more spiritual, and she tried to make
him realise that he was on a very carnal plane, and that his whole
understanding of life was wrong.

She indulged in long fasts; she went into her closet for meditation,
when he was alone in the house; and she refused him the expressions
of love which of old had been spontaneously given. She told him love
was a thing of the spirit, that it needed no physical expression. She
read from books of ancient lore, and tried to make him see that only by
living in the spirit, wholly, could we make a place for ourselves in
the great spiritual kingdoms of the universe, or develop our highest
powers here.

For two long years the man tried to live on and make the best of his
position, but the wife had undertaken an impossible task. She had
striven to change a wholesome, happy, good-hearted, loving human
being, into an intellectual æsthetic; to turn a wit into a profound
philosopher; to paralyse normal and natural instincts and appetites,
and to force the man to live only in the spirit, while yet in the body.

After two years the bad husband developed. He went where he found
pleasure, mirth, good food, good company. He allowed his wife to go her
way; he went his.

They met at the divorce court.

There was no trouble about her obtaining the divorce. Statutory grounds
were given and proved. The children were given to the wife. The woman
who had won him away from his wife, according to public comment, was a
wholly inferior person.

Then it was remarked that his wife was always quite his superior; and
that he had, by the natural law of the world, gone down to his own
level. His wife received the sympathy of the whole community; and
he was understood to be one of those bad men who are incapable of
appreciating a good woman.




VI


The sixth bad husband was supposed to be quite a model young man until
he married the girl who was too good for him.

She was too good for any man, so everybody said.

Such a pretty girl and a perfect housekeeper. Her mother had been an
invalid, and the daughter had always taken care of the home after
her mother died. She was a nurse for all the sick people in the
neighbourhood; and so unselfish with her time, and strength, and money
in doing for the poor.

The young man felt that he was rushing in where angels fear to tread,
when he asked her to be his wife; and he regarded her as something
little short of divinity.

He was a healthy, human man, and fond of all the comforts of home. When
he saw what a perfect housekeeper she was, his heart welled full of
gratitude to heaven for his good fortune.

Early orphaned, he had boarded from early boyhood. Perhaps, because
he had never known a home, he had fallen into some careless ways. He
excused himself in this manner when his wife first took him to task
for leaving his hat on the centre table. He tried to remember that he
must always hang his hat in the closet, where it had a peg of its own,
but when he came in hurried with some special idea in mind, he found
himself forgetting.

And again the quiet, but decisive voice of his wife reminded him. Then
he sometimes forgot to wipe his feet on the doormat. When he did this,
if the day was damp or dusty, he was made to repent it by seeing his
wife follow him with a floor-cloth or duster, wiping where his feet had
trod. When he rose from a chair and forgot to place it where it had
been, against the wall, she set it back herself with a quick, prompt
gesture, which made him realise his delinquency.

She often mentioned being very tired at night, too tired to go out with
him because of the unnecessary work she had been obliged to do through
the 'thoughtlessness of others.' He knew that 'others' meant himself.

His cigar ashes were a constant source of annoyance to her. He tried
to put them in an ash-tray always; but sometimes they would fall or
scatter. She brushed them up immediately. So he fell into the habit of
going to the club to smoke. She was a most undemonstrative girl; and
what he had taken for maidenly reserve, when he wooed her, proved to be
an utter absence of affection in her nature.

She believed in duty; that was her great word.

One day when he accused her of not really loving him, she asked him to
point to one thing where she had failed in her 'duty.'

Had she not kept his home in perfect order?

Had she not been economical in expenditures?

Had she not kept his name free from blemish?

Had she not--but at this juncture he went out and slammed the door.

And as he went he quoted from Kipling, saying: 'And now I know that she
never will know, and never will understand.'

One day he fell ill with a hard cold; and then indeed she became the
devoted wife. A better nurse never lived. She was simply delightful,
while he was confined to the house as her patient.

But the moment he was up and out she became the nagging woman, with
a mania for order, economy, and neatness; and all her tenderness and
sweetness vanished into the acrid and severe manner of the thrifty
housewife. She was a nurse and missionary and housekeeper--not a wife.
And he was simply starving for love, for companionship, for good
fellowship, for freedom, for happiness.

She was unable to see or understand his needs, beyond those of an
orderly house, and a bank account which was not overdrawn. She was
utterly devoid of the least touch of coquetry. Her severe, neat manner
of dress indicated her temperament.

One day he complimented the appearance of a young woman who was given
to plumes and ribbons, and who wore her hat with an air of one who knew
she would be looked at by men.

'I think her type very loud and tasteless,' his wife said coldly. 'She
is the kind of girl who would run her husband into debt without a qualm
of conscience, in order to gratify her whims. But I begin to think that
is the type of woman a man admires.'

All her judgments were severe. She had no mercy for any human frailty.
A woman of that nature, who is perpetually nagging a man for leaving
a book in the hammock, a hat on a table, cigar ashes on the floor,
or a chair out of place, and who is cold and undemonstrative in her
disposition, drives Cupid from the window, or else flings wide the
door for his departure.

When Cupid went forth from this home the man went also.

And the world said:

'What a brute to desert that model woman! Such a housekeeper! Such a
manager! And to think how she nursed him whenever he was sick!'


  Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
  at the Edinburgh University Press




_ELLA WHEELER WILCOX_

PROSE VOLUMES


NEW THOUGHT COMMON SENSE

_Crown 8vo, pp. 276. Portrait. Cloth gilt, gilt top,
4s. 6d. net._

  'Ella Wheeler Wilcox has published a book which
ought to be in every home. It has sunlight and humour,
and some sound advice on matters of daily life in the
home.'--_Birmingham Daily Post._


ARE YOU ALIVE?

_Crown 8vo. Cloth gilt, 4s. 6d. net._

A Companion Volume to 'New Thought Common Sense,'
and just as stirring.

  _Methodist Times_, January 4, says:--'This is essentially
a book for women, and she has some very straight and striking
things to say to them.... Mrs. Wilcox is old-fashioned enough
to believe that there is nothing in all the world so wonderful
or so beautiful as love. The series of sketches entitled "Six
Bad Husbands and Six Unhappy Wives," ought to be circulated
widely in tract form. The book as a whole is an excellent
tonic.... She strikes the optimistic note throughout, and her
book ought to do all sorts of people a lot of good.'


THE DIARY OF A FAITHLESS HUSBAND

_F'cap. 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth gilt, gilt top, 1s. net._

  'I should like to present every woman with "The
Diary of a Faithless Husband."'--_Tatler._


AN AMBITIOUS MAN. A Romance

_Crown 8vo, pp. 212. Cloth, with Illustrated Side Design,
3s. 6d._


A WOMAN'S LETTERS

_Crown 8vo, pp. 300. Cloth gilt, 4s. 6d. net._


  The following Selections are issued in Dainty Booklets,
bound in fancy Wrapper, with Silk Ties and Greeting Slip,
6d. net each.

     POEMS OF PEACE
     POEMS OF LOVE
     POEMS OF INSPIRATION


GEMS FROM WILCOX

     No. 1--Faith.
     No. 2--Hope.
     No. 3--Love.
     No. 4--Cheer.

Daintily Produced. Size 4 in. by 2-1/2 in. New Portrait,
Head and Tail Pieces, about 100 pp.

_Beautifully Embossed Cameo Design on Japanese Vellum
Cover, 6d. net each._

_Velvet Calf, Artistic Side Design, 1s. net each. Padded
Levant, 2s. 6d. net each._


ONE HUNDRED POEMS

Size 6 in. by 4 in., pp. 128. Portrait.

_Cloth, gilt top, coloured endpaper, 1s. net._

_Velvet Calf, Artistic Side Design, gilt top, with coloured
endpaper, 1s. 6d. net._


CHOICE SELECTIONS FOR SCHOOLS

Edited by REV. A. A. C. N. VAWDREY.

_F'cap. 8vo. Cloth, 1s. net._




GREAT THOUGHTS FOR EACH
DAY'S LIFE

A New Wilcox Birthday Book

Compiled and Edited at the Author's request by
FRANK HOLME-SUMNER.

Size 7-1/2 in. by 3-3/4 in. A page for each day with an
     encouraging verse. Printed on good writing paper
     and artistically bound.

_Cloth, gilt edges, 2s. 6d. net. Velvet Persian,
gilt edges, 5s. net._


The Fashionable Autograph Book

THE 'ELLA WHEELER WILCOX' BIRTHDAY
AND AUTOGRAPH BOOK

Size 9 in. by 6 in. A page for each day. Printed on
the best writing paper.

_Cloth, gilt edges, 5s. net. Also charmingly bound in
Velvet Calf, gilt edges, 10s. 6d. net._


POEMS OF LOVE. A Choice Selection

Size 7-1/2 in. by 5 in. pp. 128. Beautifully printed
     and sympathetically illustrated by M. LAVARS
     HARRY.

_Cloth gilt, with Artistic Side Design, 2s. 6d. net.
Velvet Calf, gilt top, 5s. net._


THE LOVE SONNETS OF ABELARD
AND HELOISE

Size 6-1/2 in. by 5 in. Coloured Frontispiece, with
     Head and Tail Pieces and Illustrated Initials.
     Printed on Handmade Paper.

_Lambskin, 4s. 6d. net. Also bound in Padded Levant._




'The World Beautiful' Library

  _Uniformly bound in red or white buckram, gilt, gilt top.
  Price 3s. 6d. each._


I. THE WORLD BEAUTIFUL

  By LILIAN WHITING.           Eighteenth Edition.

  Rev. Dr. CHAS. A. BERRY.--'In reading "The World Beautiful" I
have derived more than pleasure, for I have been quietly translated
from the world of worry which surrounds so many of us into the New
Earth, which Christ has made possible for His people. This is a
noble book, which, while it rebukes the follies and sins of our
topsy-turvy society, fills the reader with desires after the
heavenly life.'

  'The headings of chapters indicate little what they contain, for they
do but disguise mines of intellectual and spiritual ore.'--_The Literary
World._


II. THE POWER OF SILENCE

  By HORATIO W. DRESSER.            Sixth Edition.

  'The little volume is crowded with fine ideas and ideals deeply
devotional and generally practical.'--_Liverpool Post._


III. VOICES OF HOPE

  By HORATIO W. DRESSER.           Second Edition.

  'In this volume one finds really beautiful thought conveyed in
striking and beautiful language.'--_Western Morning News._


IV. THE PERFECT WHOLE

  By HORATIO W. DRESSER.            Third Edition.

  'The book is marked by much beauty in style and language.'--_Bradford
Observer._


V. HOME THOUGHTS

  By Mrs. JAMES FARLEY COX.

  'Simple, sensible and interesting.'--_Glasgow Herald._


VI. THE GROWTH OF RELIGIOUS IDEALS

    As Illustrated by the Great English Poets.

  By Rev. H. G. ROSEDALE, M.A., D.D.


VII. THE GREATEST TRUTH

  By HORATIO W. DRESSER.

  'We are able to recommend it heartily as, on the whole, a fresh and
illuminating study.'--_Methodist Times._




GAY'S SHILLING LIBRARY

_Each Volume Crown 8vo, Cloth, with attractive wrapper_


I. WHEN CHARLES I. WAS KING

    By J. S. FLETCHER.

N.B.--This novel has been styled the 'Lorna Doone' of
    Yorkshire.


II. CURLY. A Tale of the Arizona Desert

    By ROGER POCOCK.


III. THE AFFAIR AT THE INN

    By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN, and the Misses
      Mary and Jane Findlater and Allan McAulay.

  A humorous account of a holiday in Devonshire. Four
characters are portrayed by these four well-known writers.


IV. TIMOTHY'S QUEST

    By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN


V. REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM

    By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN


VI. A FRONTIERSMAN

    By ROGER POCOCK, Author of 'Curly.'


VII. MY LADY OF THE BASS

    By SIDNEY H. BURCHELL.


VIII. PAVING THE WAY. A Romance of the
        Australian Bush

    By SIMPSON NEWLAND.


_Others in Preparation_




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.