TEARS, IDLE TEARS.

Observer, Volume 1, Issue 26, 12 March 1881, Page 267

TEARS, IDLE TEARS.

Tears, chemically considered, are a weak solution of chloride of sodium and phosphate of lime. Poetically considered, they are drops splashed into the eyes from the deep springs of the soul, into which a weight has fallen. Physiologically they are the overflow of the lachrymal glands, caused hy the contraction of certain muscles. It is my present purpose to consider them as a weapon of attack and defence. They are the late resource of the gentler sex, the emotional "last ditch," as it were. To use them with effect, therefore, requires judgment. They should not lightly he resorted to. If the lady appeals to these moist arguments on all occasions they soon lose their virtue. They simply hecome damp nuisance. Another important requisite is that they should he used esthetically. It is the theory that tears — pearly tears — flow down the cheek, hut in practice it is found that they usually dribble down the nose. The eyes get red and the nose sympathises with the general moisture and gets a sort of raw look at the end. It may be laid down as a rule that the woman who uses her handkerchief at this moment is lost. The dignity and effectiveness of tears is gone as soon as soon as the mopping business begins. A light hysterical sniffle may be permitted if artistically executed with a gasp or sob, but no polishing off of eyelid or proboscis is admissible. The best method is to hold the head erect, look the cruel tyrant in the face, and let the tears flown down while the lips feign a smile. If the head is bent forward the tears will run down the nose and drop off the end, and that spoils the whole thing. Let us, for example, suppose that the fair operator wants a new bonnet, a duck or a love of a love of a bonnet. The stern and heartless tyrant reftises and even speaks in an unfeeling manner about bills. The careful practitioneress will not siilk or complain. (She will look up at him smilingly and pleadingly, and softly remark that she will continue to wear her old summer bonnet; then her chin will twitch, and a faint tremor will be heard in her voice, and tears — idle tears — will flow one by one down her cheeks. Thereupon the stern tyrant opens his pocketbook.