We think women are more injured by this roving than men. The latter are seldom long absent, except on business, with no leisure for pleasure-seeking while away; and in their necessarily rapid traveling, the hurry, the annoyance, the loss of creature comforts, which are found in greater perfection at home, are more felt, and usually the comforts and luxuries of their own fireside are more fully appreciated on their return. In the whirl of business while absent, they have little temptation to take up any unusual line of thought or action. But a woman, unless she _must_ go for her health, more frequently travels to have a “good time,” throwing aside all cares, instead of taking them with her as her husband does. In this freedom, she at once enters upon a mode of life altogether different from that which a wife, mother, or housekeeper can have at home. Her love of nicety and order is less disturbed when she has only herself to care for; and a selfish habit, a feeling of entire independence, is easily established, so that when she returns home she finds it difficult to take up again what was once a pleasure, but now seems more like the “burden of life.” The noise and confusion of children or much company, for the care of which she feels responsible, are far more irksome than before her “pleasure trip.” She does not find the yoke so easy or the burden so light. The habit of being interested in or sharing one another’s cares, reporting little items of daily news when together, is destroyed, and without any intentional unkindness they have learned to turn to others for the amusement or the social intercourse which was once a part of their life. These are not intentional _slights_, but the changes which repeated absence most naturally brings. A woman sees the changes much sooner than a man,--sees, grieves over them, and is made unhappy by them, if she loves her husband, though often too proud to let it be known. If _pleasure trips_ are frequent or of long duration, these changes are more marked. Husbands and wives, who were once made uncomfortable and restless if one meal passed unshared, learn after a while, by frequent separations, to let many pass with but little regret. Separation has lost its former importance in their eyes. Why should it not be so? If _death_ divides them, however true the sorrow, time after a while must bring healing; and the heart, although there will always be a niche which no one else can occupy, must, after many days, turn for comfort and companionship to other, if not better friends. Sometimes, perhaps, in a younger and fairer, the old love is entirely lost sight of.