those he has when she is called his wife—when the quiet evenings of winter bring him for ever near her; when he listens to her innocent conversation, full of love, and care, and thoughtfulness—all for him. I often wondered whether all men loved their wives as I loved mine. There was no way in which I could judge, for I had never been even in the same room with a husband and wife; but I had read of disagreements, and hatreds, and separations. It had given me great uneasiness before my marriage; but I always took the side of the wife, wondering why the man wanted to have his own way, in the merest trifles too. As to me, every thing my wife or Martha did, seemed the very best thing to be done; I was sure that their taste and judgment were more to be depended upon than mine; particularly as it related to household economy.
And then, was I not to be envied when, with the dear creature's arm linked in mine, we walked out either for exercise or business? A man never feels his power and responsibility so strongly as when a lovely woman leans on him for support, and relies on his courage and his ability to protect her. What a delightful sensation comes over a man when he knows that there is one being in the world who trusts to him entirely, and looks up to him as the first and the best—none but a husband can have this feeling—he enjoys it as long as life continues; it is a pleasure of which he never wearies.
May came, with all its pleasantness and its flowers, and our love for one another made every thing appear in the gayest and brightest colours. Nothing could be more inconvenient than our house; nothing could be more irksome than my occupation—the dullest of all dull employment, correcting proofs—yet it was for me that my wife overlooked the privations and difficulties she had to encounter from a limited income and a house of such diminu-
