fairs and humours of the world.

How then, seeing we are driven to the hypothesis that people choose in
comparatively cold blood, how is it they choose so well? One is almost
tempted to hint that it does not much matter whom you marry; that, in
fact, marriage is a subjective affection, and if you have made up your
mind to it, and once talked yourself fairly over, you could "pull it
through" with anybody. But even if we take matrimony at its lowest, even
if we regard it as no more than a sort of friendship recognised by the
police, there must be degrees in the freedom and sympathy realised, and
some principle to guide simple folk in their selection. Now what should
this principle be? Are there no more definite rules than are to be found
in the Prayer-book? Law and religion forbid the banns on the ground of
propinquity or consanguinity; society steps in to separate classes; and
in all this most critical matter, has common sense, has wisdom, never a
word to say? In the absence of more magisterial teaching, let us talk it
over between friends: even a few guesses may be of interest to youths
and maidens.

In all that concerns eating and drinking, company, climate, and ways of
life, community of taste is to be sought for. It would be trying, for
instance, to keep bed and board with an early riser or a vegetarian. In
matters of art and intellect, I believe it is of no consequence.
Certainly it is of none in the companionships of men, who will dine more
readily with one who has a good heart, a good cellar, and a humorous
tongue, than with another who shares all their favourite hobbies and is
melancholy withal. If your wife likes Tupper, that is no reason why you
should hang your head. She thinks with the majority, and has the courage
of her opinions. I have always suspected public taste to be a mongrel
product, out of affectation by dogmatism; and felt sure, if you could
only find an honest man of no special literary bent, he would tell you
he thought much of Shakespeare bombastic and most absurd, and all of him
written in very obscure English and wearisome to read. And not long ago
I was able to lay by my lantern in content, for I found the honest man.
He was a fellow of parts, quick, humorous, a clever painter, and with an
eye for certain poetical effects of sea and ships. I am not much of a
judge of that kind of thing, but a sketch of his comes before me
sometimes at night. How strong, supple, and living the ship seems upon