Part 2

_Don’t marry your cousin._ It may be very tempting; relatives are often warmly attached to each other from long and intimate acquaintance. Remember that constantly thrown in each other’s society will often create such attachments. With many persons, marriage of blood relations will more or less lead to deafness, blindness, or deformity. It may skip one generation and find another. It may result in disease and weakness. It may be all right, but seven to eight it is risky and uncertain, and you can’t afford to be uncertain in such matters.

_Don’t marry too far above or below you._ There is no such thing as station in this country, like the titles and surroundings of Europe; but ignorance mated with refinement must be lost and confused, and ill at ease every hour.

Such matches are hasty, and poorly considered. They lead to gossip and resentment of relatives, and an uncomfortable ill-feeling, seldom cured for a full generation. If one has beauty and refinement and is poor, never mind the poverty; the good qualities are more than a balance. But the marriage of a millionaire’s daughter with a coachman is supreme folly. It ends in disunion, and never in harmony. Water and oil will as soon mix as such elements. Avoid them.

_Don’t marry a doubly divorced man or woman_: it’s risky. Something is wrong surely. One divorce should cure any one. Two is a profusion. It may be that the doubly divorced is innocent,--he will claim to be; but if he seeks a new party to a possible divorce case (it will be a habit by this time), tell him to wait a little longer. Grass widows may be very lovable creatures, but unless their other halves were clearly blamable, beyond reasonable question, give them a wide road and avoid them entirely. It is a very bad sign, possibly a habit, that a man and woman mate and divide soon after; the fault may belong to either, and most likely relates to both, in similar proportions.

_Don’t marry a miser._ Of all the old “curmudgeons” on earth, deliver me from crabbed, narrow-minded, pinch-penny, miserable misers.

They begrudge you your meals and clothing. They count your shillings and control your pin purchases; they make life a burden, by owning much and using little, and eternally twit you of every quarter used ever so sparingly.

Life is made to live in and enjoy. We make only one journey. We need not open up our purses and leak out the pennies, just to see them roll around promiscuously; but cutting notches on a stick for each one of them, and never spending, even for necessaries, without dread and grudging, is intolerable. I had rather be poor and enjoy something.

_Don’t marry too far apart in ages._ June and December is a long, long distance in matrimony. Some people are as young-hearted at sixty as others are at forty. Some men at forty-five have hardly reached their manhood. But old, white-headed men, marrying girls in their teens--servants generally--are pitiable spectacles. To the girl it is suicide; to the man sheer folly; no need of marrying the man. The girl is the most interested in this don’t sentence. Why not, if you love him? This is the reason, not jealousy,--that is a partial reason,--but consistency. Think of a trip round the world or across the continent with one older than your father, to be called your husband, to be your husband! It must be humiliating. It is annoying. It is foolishly silly and inconsistent. Money is a small compensation for such a sacrifice. Love, and love only, should govern marriage, and I doubt its sincerity when the difference goes beyond reason.

Marry one whom you trust, admire, respect, look up to, and confide in, can be true to, and one whom you love from good and earnest motives. “Respect is a cold lunch in a dark dining-room. Love is a picnic in the woods.” Think of a picnic and an old man escort!

_Don’t marry too old._ Be in earnest about it. Here is the thought in a nut-shell:

TOO OLD TO LOVE.

I.

“I never loved but one,” she said; “I loved him just for fun,” she said; And, saying this, she swung her head-- Had she been frank, they had been wed. I saw her at a ball that night, Her eyes so dark and face so white, Her tone and manner wild delight; I knew she served him not aright.

II.

“I am too old to love,” she said; “The one I loved in fun is dead! I plant these flowers above his head, Here lies my idol, dead!” she said. “’Tis sad to think it might have been; ’Tis sadder yet to feel my sin. Love learns too late; but then, but then, He loved me once--the best of men.

III.

“I never see a pure, good face, Nor painting outlines ever trace, But he is near, his love is dear, Had I been earnest; he were here!” She veiled her dark eyes with her hand; I turned away,--“True love is grand,” I murmured, in an undertone; “Life gives no more than love of one.”

_Don’t marry odd sizes._ A tall man with a little woman looks awkward enough; but a tall woman with a little, tiny man is a misfit, surely.

See if you can’t find someone of your size, as the school-lads say in a wrestle. Pair off like soldiers in time of dress parade, with an eye to unity.

This caution relates to extremes, of course, and not to small variances. Some change and grow portly after marriage, but none get very much taller after twenty-four.

Just for the looks of the thing, pair off in uniform lines.

_Don’t marry a man or woman without a character._ Soon enough you’ll see the value of this caution. Character is a matter that grows through a lifetime, but enough of it crops out early to be noticed. One is known not only by his company but by his habits, his tastes, and his inclinations. It is said that some whole families are born fast; some thievish, some inclined to crabbedness, others mild, upright, honest, and reliable. It runs in the blood in some cases.

Suppose one is to marry for virtue, purity, and uprightness, he will seek it in the blood as much as he would look for quality in a racer.

If a woman loves a rakish “man of the world,” so called,--a name too often used to varnish a bad character,--she will very easily find him around the different bar-rooms of almost any crowded hotel in the city or village. He will be after marriage what he was before.

Tell me where a man goes, and I will tell you what he is. If he is fast, he will cultivate fast habits, live a rapid life, and earn that character very early. If these are the traits you are looking for, “inquire within” and you will find them. It may be a woman you are asking about, a girl for a wife, a life-long companion. Which are you seeking for? A dashy, fly-away dancer, or a domestic home-lover, and one whom you can trust with your keys, your secrets, your conscience? Look to her character. In either case, the man or woman has lived somewhere. Find out about it,--how long, how well, how faithfully.

A well-to-do widow, was crazy to marry a man that she fancied, and who actually refused to give more than his name and hotel, and no references. On careful inquiry such a person was known by no less than two to four names,--changed to suit circumstances. The spell was broken, the match ended.

Men and women often rush into matrimony as game is run into a trap, for the little tempting bait set to catch them (a catch-as-catch-can race). They marry and risk a life-long happiness on less actual information of each other’s real nature than a good horseman would exact of his carriage horse’s pedigree. This may do in the country, but never will answer in a city. Sense and reason dictate that men and women, to enjoy each other’s society, should see well to the match beforehand. A fine hand, a small foot, a becoming hat, a twist of the head, a simper, or a half-witty saying will do well in their places; but colors must _wash_ and _wear_ to stand a lifetime.

_Don’t marry a clown._ A silly fellow that jokes on every subject never did amount to anything, and never will. All he says may be very funny, very; but how many times can he be funny?

Fun will grow stale and threadbare; one cannot live by it. Life is a trip that costs car fare, wash bills, board bills, trinkets, notions, and actual outlays. Real providers are never clowns; the clownish fellow is a favorite in school-days. He is so cute, just as cute as a cotton hat, so cunning, so witty, so nice. Is he? Wait a few years, until his nice nonsense turns to active business!

_Don’t marry a dude._ Of all milk-and-water specimens, a dude is the lowest,--a little removed from nothing; a dressed-up model for a tailor-shop (sometimes it’s in woman form); a street flirt, a hotel-step gazer, an eye-glass ogler, a street strut; one who finds his enjoyment in the looking-glass--a masher.

Very many are called, but few are chosen. The many that are called are ridiculed. The time will come when a tailor’s suit and a fancy outfit will no more make one respectable than it would make a gentleman of a wooden Indian in front of a cigar-stand.

Men, real men of business, and men fit to marry, are not dudes, but manly, upright beings, with sense, integrity, and genius or industry; who come upon the stage of life as real actors in its affairs, not as “supes” and sham soldiers in “Pinafore” battle-scenes, where a few parade in fancy feathers as commodores for the amusement of spectators.

Life is too earnest to spend on silly, tawdry, fancy colors or showy clothing; and the one who has the less of it is the most likely to be marked for a gentleman, and the brand will be correctly designated. With women, no less than men, is this silly street-walking habit quite prevalent. A flirting woman on a public street is a sorry picture; even one who stoops to notice her must secretly know her measure. She deceives no one, for her character, like the dude’s, is so transparent that no one mistakes its meaning. The habit of going nowhere for nothing is as foolish as it is injurious.

Character grows out of little things. It may be that being seen with a disreputable person three times, or even once, will change the whole current of our career. Don’t practise the vices of dudes nor the habits of street flirts.

_Do not marry a boy or girl who is not good at home._ That is the golden test of duty,--to do one’s duty alone, away from the eyes of men and the notice of the world; to be good from a right disposition.

There is no safer rule to marry by than this: “She loves her mother, and isn’t afraid to work. She has a good name at home among her near neighbors. She is neat, sweet, and tidy. Seven days each week she is never off guard, always a lady.”

And of a man may it be said, “He is a man, take him all in all; he is manly, he is truthful; he loves his home; he treats his sisters and mother kindly. He is capable of good deeds, and incapable of mean ones. He has a good name.” He deserves success, and it will follow him. He is plain, perhaps, but man outgrows it. He is not a painting, an imitation, a counterfeit, but simply a man. He will do to marry; so will she, the last-named.

_Don’t marry from pity._ It may be akin to love, but the kinship is quite distant. Many a weak woman has so married, and only once regretted it--each and every day afterwards. A life-long regret must follow. What a cold respect is that compliment to any woman, “I took pity on her!” Away with such base uses of pity! Many a woman has had pity on a rakish man or a drunkard and married him to reform his nature. Better, far better, trust a child with a runaway horse or a mad dog. Danger seen and not avoided is criminal carelessness. Surely you can save one life, and its happiness, in such cases. One is quite enough to be sacrificed. Let bravery be shown by demanding a full surrender and reasonable atonement.

_Don’t marry for an ideal marriage only._ The girlish dream of marriage is so wide of the reality as to be dangerous. She is to grow up and go away, off to Italy, or some far-away clime of sunshine; there to be taught music and the classics. On some clear moonlight evening, in a summer-time, where birds sing all day long, near a brook or flower-garden, she is to be surprised by a creature of form and make and mental endowment that shall thrill her whole being into rapturous joy. They will go to the parlor, and there, by a grand-piano, she will unseal the pent-up currents of her heart, till tears flow from all eyes around her; there she will seem to hear the childhood melodies, the song of departed friends, the harmony of all the senses, mingling in one sweet welcome to her new-found happiness.

Her prisoned soul is no longer grovelling in common themes; all the latent power of her being is to burst forth in gladness; and music of the heart is to bear her up until the cottage walls are narrow, till flowers and falling water, brilliant company, ease and riches, smile upon her glad career.

She is to be lifted up, and raised to heights before unknown to mortals. He of whom she dreams of now is fit for Paradise. Finer and finer every day will his genius grow, and nearer to her liking every hour. There is just such joy and just such glory in a new-born love, that seems to reach a grander height each moment, as on eagle’s wings.

And this is but the generous dream that Nature gives, as a preface to a real life after,--so very, very different. The girl that twines her tender arms around her mother’s neck, and thrills with joyous pride in telling of the brilliant prize that’s offered her, thinks not of rainy days ahead. Perhaps it is just as well; who would begrudge her such half-hours of happiness? But, seeing sometime she must break the spell and know all, it may be safe to drop a hint in season, and say, This way lies safety, that way danger!

_Don’t marry a man of even doubtful character._ No matter how handsome or brilliant, a bad man has in him elements that are always repulsive; they are poison to his blood and his surroundings, and the only safe guide is his character.

No matter how many promises of reformation; you need not turn reformer for his sake. If you will take the risk, do it after he proves himself reformed, and be in no great haste about it.

No amount of spicing and seasoning can make tainted meat palatable, and no amount of promising will reclaim a character tainted with vicious habits once seated.

Young ladies who enter upon the reforming mission furnish more women and children for prisons, later in life, by their own misfortunes than any one class. Cases of reclaimed men after marriage are so rare as to be exceptional. It’s always a dangerous experiment.

_Don’t marry too cautiously as to perfection._ It has before been fully stated that men and women are human, and imperfect. That is, if you are hunting angels it’s a fool’s errand; there are none unpledged. If you look for tall, handsome, rich, manly, cultivated, talented, brilliant men, or pure, refined, fascinating, beautiful women, and one for each man the world over, the supply never equals the demand of either sex.

But to presume that the persons marked under head of “don’t marry” cover all the rest is unreasonable. There are thousands of noble women and men, possessed of sterling sense, strong bodies, affectionate natures, ability to conduct a home, become a genial companion, raise a family, shine in society, and bear their full share of life’s earnest work. Occasionally a man or woman will tower above their fellows, but, generally, the real difference is less than is often supposed. The great majority are good, and live and go to their reward unheard of outside of their neighborhood.

One has put it rather strongly in this, to many: “The lives of men and women, the best of them, are marred and ruined by uncongenial marriages. They mostly suffer in silence, ashamed to complain of the chain they cannot break. Men and woman cannot know what their sweethearts will be after marriage. I have known a sensitive man, a genius with a soul like a star, whose life was a pilgrimage over burning coals, because his wife was a coarse termagant. Many a gifted woman, fit to be a queen or an empress, is chained to a clod of a husband, whose forced companionship is to her the tortures of Inferno.”

_Don’t marry expecting all the virtues in one person._ If you do, the disappointment will be startling. There are no perfect characters. History gives none since the Saviour. Even Joseph was willing to punish his enemies.

The majority of men and women are good and pure and fair-looking. The numbers who go to the bad are few compared to the good. Take the country population, and ninety per cent will be good; and sixty per cent of all cities are people of fair characters.

It is a mistake to think that most people are bad because the bad ones get so often chronicled in public journals. The good, like the virtuous, live and die and demand no praise of their virtue. The great mass of men are sensible, and honest and upright and sober, and worthy to marry.

_Don’t break a marriage abruptly._ This is the wrong way to break a bad match. It intensifies affection. It leads to elopement, or that slow canker in a girl’s nature ending in melancholy, or insanity.

Love is a plant so tender that to uproot or transplant it may touch a vital part. There are ways enough to change its current; but of all food to increase its growth, give it a little opposition. Tell a child to leave something alone, and he sulks to touch it. Tell a girl that the man she admires is distasteful to her relatives, and she half despises them from a simple motive of resentment. Lead her by reason to see with her own eyes, and she will be convinced.

The great London actor, Garrick, played the drunkard to disenchant a girl, and succeeded. Her parents might have tried it a lifetime and failed. Human nature is queer. It will lead when the way is enticing. It will magnify discoveries, but they must be discovered in the right manner. Remove not the prop till the safety of the structure is secure without it.

_Don’t oppose one’s marriage choice suddenly._ Should a girl fall in love with one of bad character, it is best not to call him so at one breath; but say, “What are his habits? Is he good enough and worthy of so pure and comely a person as you are?” Let this task be performed by some girl of same age and class as the one you seek to change. Let them be often together, and find ways of expressing the objections by this method--coming from a classmate, a friend, a chum or companion--and your object may be easily accomplished. A proposed absence without showing why, a long journey with genial company, may have the desired effect. At least use one caution; see that the girl knows the real habits and character of the man you are opposed to her marrying. It will do more than all the urging, scolding, coaxing, or threatening.

_Don’t marry for spite._ Why should you? If the one whom you loved most has deceived you and taken another, it will be folly to try to punish him by hanging yourself, or committing a double suicide in a loveless marriage.

You will learn this lesson all too dearly when it’s over. Life is too short for those who love it and are well mated; but many a miserable marriage has made one or the other wish for death a million times, to be rid of its burden.

You are the one most interested. You will find out, after the knot is tied, that there are many conditions in life better and easier to be endured than a silly marriage to spite some one. You will spite them better by showing what a noble choice they had missed when they took another in your place.

_Don’t propose on a wash-day, in the rain, at breakfast, or in a tunnel._ There is no room for fainting in the former, and a narrow chance for time in the latter.

Many ladies have singular notions on how proposals should be accepted, and to such any rudeness is extremely shocking. A very modest fellow, in deep anxiety, took up his fair lady’s cat, and said, “Pussy, may I marry your mistress?” when the young lady replied, “Say yes, pussy, when he gets brave enough to ask for her.” More than likely this brought the young fellow to his senses. It certainly brought matters to a crisis.

Most young people talk to each other as though a tall stone wall stood between them and they must find a door in it. Strange enough, the difference in views vanishes at the merest mention of each other’s sentiments.

_Don’t mitten a mechanic_, simply on account of his business. If he is worthy, never mind his business. He can grow out of it, and will grow out of it. Collier was a blacksmith, Wilson a shoemaker, Andrew Johnson a tailor, Peter Cooper a glue-maker, Grant a tanner, and Lincoln the humblest of farmers. In this country it is not a question what a man was, but what he is; not even what he is, but what he may be, and what he is capable of yet attaining.

Many a girl has turned away a mechanic and married a rich loafer, only to find in good season that the mechanic was at heart a gentleman, with growing possibilities, and the loafer remained such for all time.

Advice is seldom heeded in such matters, but it may do to mention it. The true test of manhood is seen in the mettle of boyhood. If you wish to forecast the future, study the past history of your subject. If one is selfish, tyrannical, and overbearing by being rich, he will be a bad man to marry. If, on the other hand, he is pleasant, kind, genial, and forbearing, loves his kind, is attentive to his mother and sisters, and has made friends and character in early life, he is not very likely to change his notions later. There is often more manhood in a poor one-armed man than a rich athlete.

_Don’t marry a man too poor._ It is the height of folly to mate, and attempt to raise seven children on what will bring up three indifferently. Have a little discretion. Think that eating, dressing, etc., cost something, and no one can live happily without some of these common comforts. If they cannot buy them single, it is folly to double one’s misery by marrying in the jaws of starvation. It is suicide: it is worse,--it is double suicide, and may lead to pauperism and crime and disgrace.

_Don’t marry where the woman is older than the man._ Men are restless creatures and exacting. They expect grace, beauty, and refinement; they prefer youth to age, generally. At least it is the fashion to marry a wife some years younger than the husband. Women mature earlier; they have less expectancy of long life, and on an average live seven to ten years less, and show age at fifty more than a man does at sixty-five. Of the two, a woman should look smaller and younger and better than a man. This accords with the belief of all refined people.

_Don’t marry a crank._ This class of men will be wordy and persuasive. They tell all sorts of stories of life,--how the world is mismade; how they could improve upon this thing or that; how marriages should be made between blondes and brunettes; how, with their philosophy, society would reach perfection.

Such men are invariably tyrannical. They are exacting to the last degree; they have neither faith, hope, nor charity, but run in one groove. They distrust the powers that be, and generally mount some hobby, and forever prattle about the rights of free love or the wrongs of government. Avoid them as you would a tramp.

_Don’t marry fine feathers._ Chesterfield was _well up_ on manners, and gave his son this rule, among his twenty-one maxims to marry by: “Let not the rustling of silk entrap you into matrimony.” Fine clothing has a certain fascination to many. Some choose a wife by the becoming effect of a tasty garment. Some select a fine dancer; others rely upon a small hand or a petite form. These points may be all well noted, but they are but parts of a greater whole that should govern a wise selection.