"He is a man of pleasure, a man of the world. He laughs at the romance of his youth, and marries a fortune. If gaudy equipage and gay parties confer happiness, he is happy. But if these be only the sunshine on the stormy sea below, he is a victim to that system of morality which forbids a reputable connection until the period when provision has been made for a large expected family. Had he married the first object of his choice, and simply delayed becoming a father until his prospects seemed to warrant it, how different might have been his lot. Until men and women are absolved from the fear of becoming parents, except when they themselves desire it, they will ever form mercenary and demoralizing connections, and seek in dissipation the happiness they might have found in domestic life. "I know that this, however common, is not a universal case. Sometimes the heavy responsibilities of a family are incurred at all risks; and who shall say how often a life of unremitting toil and poverty is the consequence. Sometimes, if even rarely, the young mind does hold its first resolves. The youth plods through years of cold celibacy and solitary anxiety, happy if, before the best hours of his life are gone and its warmest feelings withered, he may return to claim the reward of his forbearance and his industry. But even in this comparatively happy case, shall we count for nothing the years of ascetic sacrifice at which after happiness is purchased? The days of youth are not too many, nor its affections too lasting. We may, indeed, if a great object require it, sacrifice the one and mortify the other. But is this, in itself, desirable? Does not wisdom tell us that such a sacrifice is a dead loss--to the warm-hearted often a grievous one? Does not wisdom bid us temperately enjoy the springtimes of life, 'while the evil day come not, nor the years draw nigh, when we shall say we have no pleasure in them?' "Let us say, then, if we will, that the youth who thus sacrifices the present for the future, chooses wisely between the two evils, profligacy and asceticism. This is true. But let us not imagine the lesser evil to be good. It is _not_ good for man to be alone. It is for no man or woman's happiness or benefit that they should be condemned to Shakerism. It is a violence done to the feelings and an injury to the character. A life of rigid celibacy, though infinitely preferable to a life of dissipation, is yet fraught with many evils. Peevishness, restlessness, vague longings and instability of character, are amongst the least of these. The mind is unsettled, and the judgment warped. Even the very instinct which is thus mortified assumes an undue importance, and occupies a portion of the thoughts which does not of right or nature belong to it, and which, during a life of satisfied affection, it would not obtain."