would seem that even for this the wife should be at least the equal of
her husband in culture, in order that the two may be in sympathy. When
a loving couple marry, they unite their interests, and it is in this
union of interests that they find happiness. We often hear from a wife
or a husband remarks like these: "I only half enjoyed it, because he
(or she) wasn't there;" "It will be no pleasure to me unless he (or
she) is there too;" "The company were charming, but still I felt
lonesome there without him (or her)." The phrase "half enjoy" gives
the idea; for a sympathetic couple are to such a degree one that a
pleasure which comes to either singly can only be half enjoyed, and
even this half-joy is lessened by the consciousness of what the other
is losing. In a rather sarcastic article, taken from an English
magazine, occur a few sentences which illustrate this point very well.
The writer is describing a honeymoon:--

"The real difficulty is to be entertaining. The one thirst of the
young bride is for amusement, and she has no idea of amusing herself.
It is diverting to see the spouse of this ideal creature wend his way
to the lending library, after a week of idealism, and the relief with
which he carries home a novel. How often, in expectation, has he
framed to himself imaginary talks,--talk brighter and wittier than
that of the friends he forsakes! But conversation is difficult in the
case of a refined creature who is as ignorant as a Hottentot. He
begins with the new Miltonic poem, and finds she has never looked into
'Paradise Lost.' He plunges into the Reform Bill; but she knows
nothing of politics, and has never read a leading article in her life.
Then she tries him, in her turn, and floods him with the dead chat of
the town and an ocean of family tattle. He finds himself shut up for
weeks with a creature who takes an interest in nothing but Uncle
Crosspatch's temper and the scandal about Lady X. Little by little the