There are, my Mabel, men who vow
The perfect wife is theirs
Because she smoothes the ruffled brow
And drives away their cares;
While there are others hold the view
That she is best who'll pay
Some trivial attention to
Her promise to obey.
Well, let each babble in his turn
About that spouse of his;
Not knowing you, how could they learn
What true perfection is?
Of all your sex you stand most high
By far and very far
Who mid your Christmas gifts can buy
A smokeable cigar.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE ECONOMISTS.
SCENE.--_The Coalition Golf Club de luxe_.