Men and Women.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue VII, 7 August 1897, Page 220

Men and Women.

WHEN Mr Chamberlain, says Mr Jnstin McCarthy in his new volume of ‘The History of Our

Own Times,’ was first elected to the House of Commons in 1876, his very appearance, and still more his msiden speech, astonished most of his political opponents. They expected a Boanerges in outlandish costume ; they found a quiet, soft-spoken, well-dressed, and dapper gentleman. Mr Chamberlain soon proved himself to be one of the keenest and most formidable debaters in the House. He had a clear, incisive voice, which he never had occasion to strain in order to make himself heard over all the benches ; he had a perfect self-control, and showed when interrupted a great readiness of repartee.

It is said that of all tests of true love a honeymoon is the severest, and by every right of sensible sequence ought to come last of all in the history of married couples. It is the great destroyer of illusions, and the more illusions there are the greater the destruction. People notoriously behave very differently to those they love and to the world at large ; but their behaviour to the world at large is the outcome of their character, whereas their conduct to each other is the result of the the concomitant of passion which may or may not be real, profound, and good. But each has a great number of characteristics which practically never appear during those hours of courtship. Suddenly the two are married, and the lid of Pandora’s box is hoisted high with a vicious jerk that scares the little wife outside to the verge of distraction, and they fly out incontinent with an evil savour. If the lid had been gently raised, the evil spirits would probably have issued forth stealthily and one at a time, without any great fuss, and might not have been noticed. The two contemned ones travel together, eat together, talk together, until in a single month they have exhausted a list of bad qualities that should have lasted at least half a dozen years under ordinary circumstances.

Perhaps, writes an authority on political economy, of all the taxes ever levied on a people the ‘ birth tax ’ was the most odious. It lasted thirteen years, dating from 1695. Every person not in receipt of alms was required to pay two shillings for every ‘ little stranger ’ that came to them. The tax was a great burden to the lower orders of the people, but the nobility and gentry were subjected to still heavier payments than their poorer neighbours. Thirty pounds had to be paid on the birth of a duke.

A Russian dentist has at length solved the problem of supplying us with false teeth which will grow into the gums as firmly as natural ones (says the London Figaro). Teeth are made of gutta percha, porcelain or metal, as the case may be. At the root of the tooth holes are made, and also in the jaw. The tooth is then placed in the cavity, and in a short time a soft granulated growth finds its way from the jaw into the holes of the tooth. This growth gradually Bardens, and holds the tooth in position. It does not matter in the least, according to this enterprising Russian dentist, whether the cavity in which the tooth is placed is one from which a natural tooth has recently been drawn, or whether it has been healed for months or even years.

A woman hazards the opinion that men rarely marry for beauty, despite the fact that all men admire a beautiful woman. We are led to this opinion (she says) because, in looking about, we find all sorts and conditions of women among the married; long nosed women, women of bad complexion, women with inexpressive eyes, women with irregular features, and so on. No, it is quite evident that it is not beauty that causes men to marry, nor is it always sweetness, either, for we all know some married woman with an acidity about her which is almost enough to edge the teeth—it is a something which is as undefinable as the scent of the rose, and as all powerful as the glow of the sun. Two of the happiest people I know of anywhere are married, and neither has the least claim to personal attractiveness, if either Apollo or Venus be the standard, but they are congenial, they agree in most things, and they consult each other’s likes and dislikes. To these people marriage is not a failure, but a snccess of the most pronounced kind, and as it is with them so it is with thousands and thousands of others all over this broad land.

Herbert Spencer is keeping five secretaries busy at his hired home in Brighton, trying to bring his biology upto date. It is a great task, especially as he himself can only give about an hour’s work a day even when he feels his best, and much of the time he cannot do that.

It is said that the King of Greece is immensely wealthy, so that if he has to retire he, like the Empress Eugenie, will have enough and to spare to live in state abroad.