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_!