"But I don't see what particular contract you are thinking of," said the lawyer. "The marriage contract," Ideala answered, calmly. This announcement created a sensation. The lawyer laughed: the Bishop looked grave. "Oh, but you cannot describe marriage in that way," he declared, with emphasis. "Humph!" the lawyer observed, meditatively. "I am afraid I must beg to differ from your Lordship. Many women might describe their marriages in that way with perfect accuracy." "Marriages are made in heaven!" the Bishop ejaculated, feebly. "Let us hope that some are, dear Bishop." Claudia sweetly observed, and all the married people in the room looked "Amen" at her. "I think an ideal of marriage should be fixed by law, and lectures given in all the colleges to teach it," Ideala went on; "and a standard of excellence ought to be set up for people to attain to before they could be allowed to marry. They should be obliged to pass examinations on the subject, and fit themselves for the perfect state by a perfect life. It should be made a reward for merit, and a goal towards which goodness only could carry us. Then marriages might seem to have been made in heaven, and the blessing of God would sanctify a happy union, instead of being impiously pronounced in order to ratify a business transaction, or sanction the indulgence of a passing fancy. But only the love that lasts can sanctify marriage, and a marriage without such love is an immoral contract." "Marriage an immoral contract!" the Bishop exclaimed. "O dear! O dear! This is not right, you know; this is not at all right. I must make a note of this--I really must. You are in the habit of saying things of this sort, my dear. I remember you said something like it once before; and really it is not a subject to joke about. Such an idea is quite pernicious; it must not be allowed to spread--even as a joke. I wish, my dear, you had not promulgated it, even in that spirit. You have--ah --a knack of making things seem plausible, and of giving weight to opinions by the way you express them, although the opinions themselves are quite erroneous, as on the present occasion. Some of your ideas are so very mistaken, you know; and you really ought to leave these matters to those who understand them, and can judge. It is very dangerous to discuss such subjects, especially--ah--when you know nothing about them, and--ah--cannot judge. I really must preach a sermon on the subject. Let me see. Next Sunday--ah, yes; next Sunday, if you will kindly come and hear me." We all thanked him as enthusiastically as we could.