agree with him.

Philosophers have debated whether morning or night is most conducive
to the strongest and clearest moral impressions. The Grecian sage
confessed that his labours smelt of the lamp. In like manner did
Mrs. Caudle's wisdom smell of the rushlight. She knew that her
husband was too much distracted by his business as toyman and doll-
merchant to digest her lessons in the broad day. Besides, she could
never make sure of him: he was always liable to be summoned to the
shop. Now from eleven at night until seven in the morning there was
no retreat for him. He was compelled to lie and listen. Perhaps
there was little magnanimity in this on the part of Mrs. Caudle; but
in marriage, as in war, it is permitted to take every advantage of
the enemy. Besides, Mrs. Caudle copied very ancient and classic
authority. Minerva's bird, the very wisest thing in feathers, is
silent all the day. So was Mrs. Caudle. Like the owl, she hooted
only at night.

Mr. Caudle was blessed with an indomitable constitution. One fact
will prove the truth of this. He lived thirty years with Mrs.
Caudle, surviving her. Yes, it took thirty years for Mrs. Caudle to
lecture and dilate upon the joys, griefs, duties, and vicissitudes
comprised within that seemingly small circle--the wedding-ring. We
say, seemingly small; for the thing, as viewed by the vulgar, naked
eye, is a tiny hoop made for the third feminine finger. Alack! like
the ring of Saturn, for good or evil, it circles a whole world. Or,
to take a less gigantic figure, it compasses a vast region: it may
be Arabia Felix, and it may be Arabia Petrea.

A lemon-hearted cynic might liken the wedding-ring to an ancient