is thoroughly the gentleman; gentle in breeding and in soul. All the
men he describes are so, while the shades of manner are distinctly
marked. There is the serene dignity of Socrates, with gleams of
playfulness thrown across its cool, religious shades, the princely
mildness of Cyrus, and the more domestic elegance of the husband in
the Economics.

There is no way that men sin more against refinement, as well as
discretion, than in their conduct toward their wives. Let them look at
the men of Xenophon. Such would know how to give counsel, for they
would know how to receive it. They would feel that the most intimate
relations claimed most, not least, of refined courtesy. They would not
suppose that confidence justified carelessness, nor the reality of
affection want of delicacy in the expression of it.

Such men would be too wise to hide their affairs from the wife, and
then expect her to act as if she knew them. They would know that, if
she is expected to face calamity with courage, she must be instructed
and trusted in prosperity, or, if they had failed in wise confidence,
such as the husband shows in the Economics, they would be ashamed of
anger or querulous surprise at the results that naturally follow.

Such men would not be exposed to the bad influence of bad wives; for
all wives, bad or good, loved or unloved, inevitably influence their
husbands, from the power their position not merely gives, but
necessitates, of coloring evidence and infusing feelings in hours when
the--patient, shall I call him?--is off his guard. Those who
understand the wife's mind, and think it worth while to respect her
springs of action, know bettor where they are. But to the bad or
thoughtless man, who lives carelessly and irreverently so near another