Herself to answer, had you tried.

But when you've won her for a wife,
And ante-nuptial glamour dies,
What food for matrimonial strife
Her crass inconsequent replies.
How terrible to find her dense,
And never grasping what you mean;
You'll think one gleam of common sense
Worth more than finest eyes e'er seen.

Days come when love no longer gives
Illusions as in hours of yore;
And hapless is the man who lives
To find his wife become a bore.
Then keep, if you'd avoid that day,
The wise _Spectator's_ golden rule:
Don't be by beauty led away,
And choose for wife a pretty fool.

* * * * *

In the _Times'_ book advertisement column, the S.P.C.K. announces the
following new publication:--

THE OUSE. By the Rev. A.J. FOSTER, M.A.

This, we suppose, is the first of a new unaspirated ARRY SERIES.
The next Volume being _The Ome_, and, after that, _Books of Ighgate,
Amsted, Olloway, and other Ills_.