Chapter 4 THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE.

his is the crucial period in the lives of most married people; the test which decides the wisdom or the folly of the step they have taken. Now, when the irrevocable words have been said, the vow taken for better or for worse, and the door shut upon the outside world, if any mask has been worn it is laid aside and true self revealed. To some this means disillusionment, and disappointment is inevitable, since marriage is entered on from a great variety of motives, and love is not always the first and most potent.

With these, meanwhile, we do not propose to deal; their punishment is certain, since there can be no misery on earth more hopeless and more galling than the misery of a loveless marriage.

But even ordinary happy and sensible people, who have married for love, and who honestly desire to make their home as far as possible an earthly paradise, cannot escape the inevitable strain of this first year of married life. To begin with, it is a trite saying that you cannot know a person until you live with him or her; and people come to years of maturity have formed habits of thought and action which may, in some cases must, clash with those of the other with whom they are brought into contact every day. Contact, too, from which it is impossible to escape. You meet in business and society many persons with whom you find it difficult to agree, whose opinions jar upon you, and who rub you the wrong way, and you find it irksome enough to meet such a person even occasionally; imagine, then, what it would be like were you placed in, or forced to endure, his or her companionship every day. Yet such is the experience of some married persons, who have rushed into matrimony without due knowledge or consideration.

But leaving these extreme cases out of the question, meanwhile let us think of the test of perpetual companionship as applied to an ordinary pair who enter on married life with the ordinary prospect of happiness.

During the days of courtship and engagement they, of course, saw a good deal of each other, and got to know, as they thought, every peculiarity and characteristic. Sometimes, even, they had quarrels arising out of trifles, foolish misunderstandings which caused serious heart-burnings, none of which, however, were of long duration; and the making up was invariably sweet enough to atone for the temporary misery, and help to make up the poetry of life. But the lovers' quarrel and the quarrel matrimonial are entirely different; and while the former is usually but a passing breeze, the latter is more serious, and to be avoided almost at any cost. We want fair winds always, if possible, to speed our matrimonial barque; we do not wish its timbers shaken by the whirlwind of passion.

We have all our little peculiarities, excrescences of character which are apt to rub roughly against our neighbours' sensibilities, let us not, when feeling these drawbacks, forget our own. We are so apt to magnify in others, and to minimise in ourselves.

It is easy to be on good behaviour with a person we only see occasionally, even every day, so long as the cares and worries of life are in the background, never obtruded, however heavily they press, because these short moments are too precious to be clouded in any way. It is easy to be unselfish for a little while; to bow, now and then, absolutely to another's will; to suffer discomfort once a week, if necessary, to make a dear one comfortable. All such little sacrifices during courting days seem but a privilege, and make up the poetry of that happy time.

But the day comes sooner or later to the married pair, when the prose pages must be turned, and poetry relegated to the background, days on which the reality of life, in all its grim nakedness, seems to banish romance, and when love needs all its strength and staying power for the fight. The common-sense man or woman, of which type a few examples yet remain with us, will prepare themselves for the slight disappointments which are inevitable, when two people, regarding each other from an adoring distance, and having invested each other with many exaggerated gifts and graces, put themselves voluntarily to the test of everyday life, with all its prosaic details, its crosses and losses, its silences and its tears. It is like making a new acquaintance, having to meet each other in all situations, and in various unromantic and sometimes supremely trying conditions. Edwin pacing his chamber floor anathematising a buttonless shirt is a picture our comic journals have made familiar to us; and Angelina in her curl-papers and untidy morning gown looks a different being from the sylph in evening attire all smiles and blushes. These extreme examples serve only to illustrate my contention, that the closeness of the marriage relation carries its peril with it. To the man or woman, however, who marries for that love which is based on the qualities of both head and heart, and who knows that daily life, with its rubs and scrubs, will sometimes mar the sweetest temper and cloud the serenest brow, there cannot come any serious disillusionment. Loving each other dearly, they remember they are but human; and as perfection is not inborn in humanity, they accept each other's faults and shortcomings gracefully, not magnifying them sourly and grumblingly, but bearing with them, and rejoicing in and accepting the good.

Domestic life to the young and untried housekeeper is something of an ordeal. She may have had her own place in her father's home, her own special duties to attend to, even her own share of responsibility. Still, it is an altogether different matter to have the entire care of a household, to guide all its concerns, and be responsible for the domestic comfort of all within the four walls of the house. Happy the young wife who had a wise mother, and came well-equipped from the parental home.

There is no more fruitful source of the disappointment and disillusionment of which we have been speaking than incapacity on the part of the young wife to steer the domestic boat. All men like creature comforts, and are more keenly sensible perhaps than women to the advantages of a well-ordered home. We all know how women living alone are apt to neglect themselves in the matter of preparing regular and substantial meals; and how many suffer thereby. A good dinner is more to a man than it is to a woman; and, for my part, I do not see why it should be necessary to sneer at a man because he desires and can enjoy a wholesome, well-cooked meal. It is a sign of a healthy body and a sound mind, and the true housewife is never happier than when she caters successfully for the members of her household, and beholds the hearty appreciation of her labours.

It is the custom in certain quarters in these days to decry this special department of woman's work, and to belittle its importance, but I am old-fashioned enough to hold that one of the most essential points of fitness for the married life in woman is her ability to keep house economically, wisely, and successfully. Nothing will ever convince me that such fitness is not one of her solemn and binding duties; in fact, it is one of the reasons of her existence as a wife.

Sometimes her worries and perplexities, at first, resting entirely on her shoulders, may give to her tongue an unusually sharp edge, and she may find it a too serious effort to smile just when her spouse may think it right and fitting that she should.

Out of what trifles do great issues arise! Let not the sun go down upon your wrath. My advice to the young wife when things do not go well with her, when she grows hot and tired over a weary dinner, which does not turn out the success she wishes, or when she has been tried beyond all patience with her "help",-my advice is, Don't nag. Be cheerful. Swallow the pill in the kitchen at any cost, but, above all, don't nag! A man will stand almost anything but nagging. Don't save up a long string of miseries, small and big, to pour on to him the moment he puts his head in at the door.

Yes, I know all about it-that the day has been long and dreary, that nothing has gone right, and you have had nobody to share it; but I want you to let the man have his dinner or his tea in peace before you relate the tale of your woes. It will make all the difference in the world to his reception of it. Try to remember that he has had a long day too, that, maybe, he has been nagged and worried in the office, or the market, or behind the counter; and that he left it with relief, hoping for a little fireside comfort at home. Let him enjoy first, at least, the meal you have prepared or superintended, then, when you both have eaten, you will be in a better mood for the discussion of the little worries which looked so big and black all day. If they have not disappeared altogether by this time they have at least sensibly decreased in size and number.

Another thing I should like to impress on the young wife, and that is the absolute necessity of being as fastidious and dainty with her personal appearance after marriage as before. It is a poor compliment to a man to show that you care so little for his opinion as a husband that you can't or won't take the trouble to dress up for him. Dear girls, contemplating the final leap, I want you to understand that you can afford a great deal less to be careless after marriage than before; because you have now to keep the husband you have won. Men like what is bright and cheerful, and pleasant to behold. So far as you are concerned see that you are never an eyesore. Even if you have your own work to do, there is no necessity why you should be a dowdy or a slattern. Even a cotton dress clean and daintily made can be as becoming to you as a robe of silk and lace.

It is a great deal more important for you to keep your husband's love and respect than it was to win them as a lover; because now your stake is greater-in fact, it is your all.

To the husband I would say, "Be kind, be true, be appreciative always. If you have to find fault do it gently. There are two ways of doing and saying everything. Take time to choose the better, the kinder, the more helpful and encouraging."

Most women are quick to respond to the slightest touch of kindness, the sunshine their more dependent natures require. See that you, having taken this young creature from the shelter of a loving parental home, do not starve her in an atmosphere of cold criticism and fault-finding. Remember that she is young, inexperienced, ignorant of many things, and that wisdom walks with years. Little things these, you say? Yes, friend, but great and far-reaching in their issues even to the wreck or salvation of a human soul.

To both in the early days, "Live near to God,"-His blessing alone can consecrate the home. So will your last days be better than your first, and love be as sweet and soul-satisfying on the brink of the grave, at the close of the long pilgrimage you have made together, as in the halcyon days, "when all the world was young."

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