NOVEMBER hath 30 days EBB CAN one say by what Path, under what Bush, beside what Ditch, beneath what Mountain, through what Manlabour and Slaveswork, Man came upon the Burrows of Wisdom, and sometimes upon the skin of her herself? No, it cannot be said, for some and most, spend their bright Youth seeking her, while Woman spends her bright Youth brightly avoiding her. And at fifty what has a Man but his wisdom, and what has a Woman, but more suddenly, and therefore more pleasantly, that Wisdom also, for to Man it comes with the stealth of a deep Sleep, and in a Sleep he is when he nods that he has it bagged, but to Woman it comes when she has no cause for Children and no effect for Babes! Then is she wise! "What a wind-fall of a moment!" said Dame Musset, when at fifty odd she saw a long stretch of Beach about her. "What a lift in a Cab when there is no Address, what a Staff in Hand when the Hills have come down. Now," she added, "that this tortured old Wine-skin can no longer suffer gutting, I shall whirl me about this World indeed, and trifle to the hilt. Yet," mused she, "what is this Safety and Wisdom worth when it comes riding before the Horse? Women must know of it before they can! And damn my Eyes!" said the good dame, "I shall ring the Bells of all Basham for this discovery; and make such a Groaning and tintinabulation throughout my own City, that every Woman will unloosen her Stays and hang them at Window for joy of the thing!" Therefore she set out through the Town, her Staff in hand, her Busby well over one Eye, and as she went she spoke with Women, indoors and out, and had Words with them on many things that they had not hoped to know for a great long while. Some wept into Kerchiefs for Love's sake, and yet others swam out into a Dram of Ditchwater, and got their deaths of drowning, or hung Belly up on Halters, and Well-ropes and Kite-strings and near Water-hawsers, and others died in black Gloves, or ate Kickshaw trifles whipped up with Hemlock, from a Pantry that would never creak to their welt again, or yet others drilled, ash by dust and gravel by Hod, earth dipping for a Grave to coverall, or knelt over Mirrors of a bevel asking the world-wise Lie, or all in their Pretties, wept rump up and heart down for the Sorrow and the Pain of Loveslabourlost, while dame Musset sat on a thorn of a Hedgerow (and never the wiser) that she might save a girl or so before she had wallowed in Love's rich welter, or troughed a mouthful at the Tarn of temptation. "Girl!" she said to the first she saw approaching, "the meat on your Bones cries aloud of Spring in the Fat, yet could I poison you with the Fang of Knowledge, trip you up in your twenties, so that you browse deep on the bog-matter, that is old-girls' Wisdom, would I not do it with a high Heart and gladly, so," said she, "riddle me this: as lame as a Goose, as halt as a Standstill, as fast as a Watch, as wet as a Rill, as soft as a Mouse end, as hard as a Heart, as salt as a flitch, as bitter as Gall, as sweet as the-way-in, as sour as old Cider, as dear as a Darling, as mean as a Boil; which is always present yet never in Sight, which is as light as a Kerchief, and as dark as a Crow? That," she said, "is Love, but," added she, "riddle me the other: That is as cool as a Cow's Dug, as sane as a Bell-hop, as calm as a Groat, as sure as you-think-it, and as right-as-you-are. Wisdom. And which will you have?" But the Girl would not listen and said Gee to her Oxen. Then went Dame Musset into Petticoat Lane, just off Breach-String-Alley, where the wash of the World is a dozen of Drawers in the Victorian Style, a Leg for a Leg and a great Gap to span them. And seeing a Lass coming from Market with little in her Basket to save her from starving but the whole of an Ox with a Tongue out-lolling, a breech-end to the Brisket with a rosette in pucker, and a whole survey of Heaven in the low Light of its Eyes, full fathoms wise in its Eyeballs of dear Eden, a ream and a half of tripe's Meat, that harked back to three Bellies, a fair Pig's Bladder for Baby to call the Cattle home, and a round of Hares' Fur to make Daddy a coat, with a Nose-bag of Carrots and a jugfull of rye, and a Mill on her back to winnow the apples in her Winter Acre into kegs of Home-brewing for a Guest and a Secret the whole Winter through, --to this one said Musset, as the Geese flocked ungainly, "Hold Wench, there is much you must learn ere you cram that Fodder down the Gorge of your Gut, and it is of Love and its Sorrow, which, with my new findings, may be turned into a matter of no Tears nor Agues, so but listen and give yea, while I make you, for no-gold, as wise as your Mother, so riddle me this--" But the Lass would not listen, and said cluck to her Geese, and Dame Musset went further into Highhip Road, and there on the steps of the Palace saw Girls of all sorts, in their lute strings and Velvets, their Rag-tags of Sodom and their flaps of Gomorrah and all of them hiding a Letter between them, and none of them twenty, and all had the Hound's Eye and the Heart dumbfounded, and the stagger of those penned in the Pastures of Hope, far on the way to the Shambles of Know-all-and-try-all, and Dame Musset became exceeding sorry, though no Vein bled, for Knowledge has cooled from Perron to Chimney. "Girls, Girls," said she, "pause now to listen, I bring no Trumpet but that of my Message. I ask you to settle on the Borders of yonder Palace, like Doves on a Fort, nor lift to fly until you have had word with me, for I have come to deliver you from Love and Love's Folly, and great Regrets that furl up like Thunder, and in terrible Banners outrun to bedamn you. So riddle me this--" But the Girls would not listen, and lifted their Skirts making a swish going outward, and Dame Musset went still further into Brambelly Grove, where Women are Women, and all of them busy in whipping the Sorrow from the Potluck of the other, like Linens they lay, over Box hedge and Rose-bush, all a cry stained sprawling. "Yet hold !" cried Dame Musset, "though this is a rare Sight and one that I would not have missed for Shank or my Shin, still I've seen it, and 'tis sufficient, so rise up and Arm down, I come to give you Word that will make of this business a silly trouncing and no thing for Tears, so riddle me this--" But they would not listen, and the Whip fell and the Girls wept, all in the Hedges of Brambelly Grove. So Dame Musset went further until she came to Well-over Square, where she saw a Madame in Mittens sipping her Tea by the Gates of the Ministry. She came to a stop, and as if she had been a Crier of old London she had her say in this manner: "Madam, I shall waste none of your Time by asking for it. This Morning, just as the Clock struck three of the Dawn, I came down from the strident winds of Life's Troubles, a flag in no breeze, and I saw how and in what manner I might save the world all its Trials and Troubles, even for such as are silly enough to be in Love with a Man and a Man. This Wisdom came like a Sheep from the fold, and the Hound of Torment leapt for a Newbride's Bosom. It has thus been my Pleasure, as it has been that of all over fifty, to know wherein I have erred. Now, had I this Knowledge when I was ten and ten and not yet ten, I should have had yet greater nights, and no tears wasting and reeking my Linens, so I give it to you: Never want but what you have, never have but that which stays, and let nothing remain. Wisdom is indifference, the only Trouble with it," said she, pausing, "is how extraordinarily it fills the Bed. For this Morning, not half an Hour after my Wisdom had come down upon me, ten Girls I had tried vainly for but a Month gone, were all tearing at my shutters--" "Ah yes," said the Madame, putting another Lump in her tea, "I am sixty, and at my Age both Youth and Wisdom are over, and you reap a third Crop." "God save us," cried Dame Musset, "is there yet more to learn of this world?" "But yes," said the Crone, "there is that and others. At sixty you are ten Years tired of your Knowledge." Then returned Dame Musset by the way she had come, and en route remanded her order for ringing of Bells. *