her to wear; pearls are tame.

----And after marriage the weeks are even shorter than before: you
wonder why on earth all the single men in the world do not rush
tumultuously to the Altar; you look upon them all as a travelled man
will look upon some conceited Dutch boor who has never been beyond the
limits of his cabbage-garden. Married men, on the contrary, you regard
as fellow-voyagers; and look upon their wives--ugly as they may be--as
better than none.

You blush a little at first telling your butcher what "your wife" would
like; you bargain with the grocer for sugars and teas, and wonder if he
_knows_ that you are a married man. You practise your new way of talk
upon your office-boy: you tell him that "your wife" expects you home to
dinner; and are astonished that he does not stare to hear you say it!

You wonder if the people in the omnibus know that Madge and you are just
married; and if the driver knows that the shilling you hand to him is
for "self and wife." You wonder if anybody was ever so happy before, or
ever will be so happy again.

You enter your name upon the hotel books as "Clarence ---- and Wife"; and
come back to look at it, wondering if anybody else has noticed it,--and
thinking that it looks remarkably well. You cannot help thinking that
every third man you meet in the hall wishes he possessed your wife; nor
do you think it very sinful in him to wish it. You fear it is placing
temptation in the way of covetous men to put Madge's little gaiters
outside the chamber-door at night.

Your home, when it is entered, is just what it should be,--quiet,
small,--with everything she wishes, and nothing more than she wishes.
The sun strikes it in the happiest possible way; the piano is the
sweetest-toned in the world; the library is stocked to a charm;--and
Madge, that blessed wife, is there, adorning and giving life to it all.
To think even of her possible death is a suffering you class with the
infernal tortures of the Inquisition. You grow twin of heart and of
purpose. Smiles seem made for marriage; and you wonder how you ever wore
them before!

* * * * *

So a year and more wears off of mingled home-life, visiting, and travel.
A new hope and joy lightens home: there is a child there.

----What a joy to be a father! What new emotions crowd the eye with
tears, and make the hand tremble! What a benevolence radiates from you
toward the nurse,--toward the physician,--towa