Now, about the girl who weeps. You don't see many of her these days.
Women used to think that big, sad eyes, just ready to send forth a
November gale of tears, was quite the proper thing, especially if there
chanced to be a man about. Women of experience--and who should really
know--say that tears are worn-out weapons for bringing masculinity to
time. We later-day mortals go in for everything that bespeaks strength
and backbone and a certain amount of strong-mindedness. When little
wifey wife begins to snivel nowadays, Mr. Husband doesn't upset the
furniture in his efforts to kiss away the tears. He is quite likely to
straighten up and say: "Oh, brace up, Pauline!" or else, "Go look in
the glass, my love, and see what a beautifully tinted nose you have!"
Yes, these are unromantic days, and there's no mistaking that fact!
There's little room for the weepy, wailing woman whose big, inflated
ambition is to dampen stunning neckties and deluge nicely laundered
shirt-fronts. Of course, women must have their good, comfortable cries
once in a while, but if they're wise they will retire to their own
rooms and have it out by themselves. This is not quite so satisfactory
as the old-time methods, for the reason that loneliness does not
inspire an exhibition of woe, and if one doesn't look out one is apt to
forget what one is boo-hooing about. But, take it all in all, it's
safer and more in keeping with fin de siecle rules and regulations.
It used to be that a man would say: "Well, it breaks me all up to see a
woman cry. I just can't stand it!" But now it's different. Instead, he
remarks wearily: "Anything but a yowling woman!"
The poets have written lots of lovely things about tears.
Notwithstanding that fact, there is an old German proverb: "Nothing
dries sooner than a tear," which isn't so bad. And Byron, you know,
said that the busy have no time for tears. Which, one must acknowledge,
is quite true when one thinks how everybody is up and hustling these
days. They're either wearing themselves down to skin and bone trying to
earn a living and to reside in a $60 flat with electric lights and a
real back yard, or else they're gradually killing themselves in an
effort to enjoy life and to have a good, jolly time all around.
However, that's neither here nor there. So let's jog along to more
timely topics.