Misrepresentative Women — Eve
[Illustration: “_Gentle Reader, who so patiently have waited_” ] _Eve_ I always love to picture Eve, Whatever captious critics say, As one who was, as I believe, The nicest woman of her day;
Attractive to the outward view, And such a perfect _lady_ too!
Unselfish,--that one can’t dispute, Recalling her intense delight, When she acquired some novel fruit, In giving all her friends a bite;
Her very troubles she would share With those who happened to be there.
Her wardrobe, though extremely small, Sufficed a somewhat simple need;
She was, if anything at all, A trifle _under_dressed, indeed, And never visited a play In headgear known as “matinée. ” Possessing but a single _beau_, With only one _affaire de c[oe]ur_, She promptly married, as we know, The man who first proposed to her;
Not for his title or his pelf, But simply for his own sweet self.
He loved her madly, at first sight;
His callow heart was quite upset;
He thought her nearly, if not quite, The sweetest soul he’d ever met;
She found him charming--for a man, And so their young romance began.
Their wedding was a trifle tame-- A purely family affair-- No guests were asked, no pressmen came To interview the happy pair;
No crowds of curious strangers bored them, The “Eden Journal” quite ignored them.
They had the failings of their class, The faults and foibles of the youthful;
She was inquisitive, alas!
And he was--not exactly truthful;
But never was there man or woman So truly, so intensely _human_!
And, hand in hand, from day to day, They lived and labored, man and wife;
Together hewed their common way Along the rugged path of Life;
Remaining, though the seasons pass’d, Friends, lovers, to the very last.
So, side by side, they shared, these two, The sorrow and the joys of living;
The Man, devoted, tender, true, The Woman, patient and forgiving;
Their common toil, their common weather, But drew them closelier still together.
And if they ever chanced to grieve, Enduring loss, or suff’ring pain, You may be certain it was Eve Brought comfort to their hearts again;
If they were happy, well I know, It was the Woman made them so.
* * * * * And though the anthropologist May mention, in his tactless way, That Adam’s weaknesses exist Among our modern Men to-day, In Women we may still perceive The virtues of their Mother Eve!
[Illustration: “_Her wardrobe, though extremely small, sufficed a somewhat simple need_” ]
