And, moreover, the horizon of matrimony is only seen through a glass, and that darkly, if the experience of others be the glass by which we make our observations. How often "the happiest day of one's life" is the herald of many miserable ones! How many marry in all the trust of confident affection, in all the gladness of life's sweetest hope, and yet find themselves miserably disappointed;—affection becomes gradually chilled in the differences of every day; hope discovers its mistake, and
"Such hopes like fairies, when they part,
Leave withered rings around the heart."
And no ring, if it does wither its circle, withers so utterly as a golden one. With only the false criterion of courtship to judge by, the wedded pair expect too much from each other; and those who should make the most, make the least allowance. Tastes differ, tempers jar, trifles become important—as the grain of sand, which, nothing in itself, yet, gathered together, sweeps over the fertile plain, leaving no sign that there ever was blossom or fruit. The scar, which would soon pass, did distance or time intervene, can not heal from hourly irritation, One quarrel brings the memory of its predecessor, and grievances and mortifications are treasured up for perpetual reference. Too late, each finds out how utterly unsuited either is to the other; they have not a feeling, a taste, or an opinion in common.
