The Hindoo proverb that you should "never strike a wife, even with a
flower," though a considerable advance, tells a melancholy tale of what
must previously have been.

In _The Origin of Civilization_ I have given many cases showing how small
a part family affection plays in savage life. Here I will only mention one
case in illustration. The Algonquin (North America) language contained no
word for "to love," so that when the missionaries translated the Bible
into it they were obliged to invent one. What a life, and what a language,
without love.

Yet in marriage even the rough passion of a savage may contrast favorably
with any cold calculation, which, like the enchanted hoard of the
Nibelungs, is almost sure to bring misfortune. In the Kalevala, the
Finnish epic, the divine smith, Ilmarinnen, forges a bride of gold and
silver for Wainamoinen, who was pleased at first to have so rich a wife,
but soon found her intolerably cold, for, in spite of fires and furs,
whenever he touched her she froze him.

Moreover, apart from mere coldness, how much we suffer from foolish
quarrels about trifles; from mere misunderstandings; from hasty words
thoughtlessly repeated, sometimes without the context or tone which would
have deprived them of any sting. How much would that charity which
"beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all
things," effect to smooth away the sorrows of life and add to the
happiness of home. Home indeed may be a sure haven of repose from the
storms and perils of the world. But to secure this we must not be content
to pave it with good intentions, but must make it bright and cheerful.