The disciples, John tells us—and he was one of them—marveled to find their Master talking with a woman. Alone, too! And yet none of them asked him why he did it, or what it was he hoped to get out of a conversation with her. That brief comment of John, that the disciples "marveled that he talked with the woman" (John 4:27), shows how Christ has changed the world.
Woman, who made it fit and decent and moral for a prophet to talk with thee? Who threw a zone of mercy and protection about thy little child? Who lifted thee up and changed thee from man's plaything to man's companion? Who changed thee from man's chattel and property to man's friend and equal and inspirer? Who obliterated the brand of the slave from thy face and put on thy brow the halo of chivalry and tenderness and romance? Who so changed thy lot that, instead of marveling today that a prophet should talk with a woman, what men marvel at is that there was ever a day when men should have marveled that Christ talked with a woman? Come, then, Woman; bring thine alabaster box, filled with the ointment precious and very costly. Come, break thy box and pour thine ointment of love and gratitude upon his head and feet. Come, wash his feet with thy tears of love and wipe them with thy hair for a towel!
A brilliant and eccentric professor in a theological seminary used to tell the men in his classes never to marry a woman unless they were willing to go to hell for her sake. In the sense in which he meant it—that they should have a love which many waters could not quench and a devotion which laughed at death and hell—the advice was not unwholesome. But in another sense it is true that many a man has gone to hell for the sake of a woman, and also that many a woman has gone to hell for the sake of some man.
"And I intreat thee also, true yoke fellow, help those women . ." (Phil. 4:3).
He was unschooled, and trying to give a word of exhortation. He fumbled through the opening verses of Philippians 4, but became confused over the names of the two women referred to in verse 2, and so he read, "I beseech Odious and I beseech Soontouchy that they be of the same mind in the Lord." He then proceeded to attempt an application of the truth according to the names as he had misunderstood them.
How much trouble is made among Christians by women like Odious, Who are so unpleasant to get on with, and Soontouchy, who get offended over every little trifle! The application was good, though the interpretation was faulty.
Woman—the only sex which attaches more importance to what's on its head than to what's in it.
"How very few statues there are of real women."
"Yes! it's hard to get them to look right."
"A woman remaining still and saying nothing doesn't seem true to life."
"Oh, woman! in our hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please"—
So wrote Sir Walter long ago.
But how, pray, could he really know?
If woman fair he strove to please,
Where did he get his "hours of ease"?—George B. Morewood.
MISS SCRIBBLE-"The heroine of my next story is to be one of those modern advanced girls who have ideas of their own and don't want to get married."
THE COLONEL (politely)-"Ah, indeed, I don't think I ever met that type."—Life.
You are a dear, sweet girl,
God bless you and keep you—
Wish I could afford to do so.
Here's to man—he can afford anything he can get. Here's to woman—she can afford anything that she can get a man to get for her.—George Ade.
Here's to the soldier and his arms,
Fall in, men, fall in;
Here's to woman and her arms,
Fall in, men, fall in!
Most Southerners are gallant. An exception is the Georgian who gave his son this advice:
"My boy, never run after a woman or a street car—there will be another one along in a minute or two."
Here's to the maid of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting, extravagant queen;
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
Let the toast pass,—
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.—Sheridan.
Here's to the ladies, the good, young ladies;
But not too good, for the good die young,
And we want no dead ones.
And here's to the good old ladies,
But not too old, for we want no dyed ones.
When a woman repulses, beware. When a woman beckons, bewarer.—Henriette Corkland.
The young woman had spent a busy day.
She had browbeaten fourteen salespeople, bullyragged a floor-walker, argued victoriously with a milliner, laid down the law to a modiste, nipped in the bud a taxi chauffeur's attempt to overcharge her, made a street car conductor stop the car in the middle of a block for her, discharged her maid and engaged another, and otherwise refused to allow herself to be imposed upon.
Yet she did not smile that evening when a young man begged:
"Let me be your protector through life!"