In no other civilized country in the world is marriage contracted, or dissolved, with such culpable levity as in our own. In no other civilized country (except, perhaps, in France, just at present), can divorce be obtained with such facility, and upon such slight grounds. And it may be the very ease with which the sacred bond may be broken that leads many people into forming it so lightly. An obligation so easily annulled may be carelessly contracted. I remember an anecdote in point:—“Take care—this contemplated marriage of yours is a hasty affair—and when consummated, it is for _life_, you know—‘’Till death do you part,’” said a young man to his friend, who was about to enter into the “holy state.” “Oh, no! not necessarily—there are such things as _divorces_, recollect,” laughingly replied the perspective bridegroom—a handsome hero, of black eyes and white teeth—and his black eyes flashed, and his white teeth gleamed, as though he had been saying the wittiest thing in the world. The youth was in love—therefore his speech could not be taken seriously. He was jesting. _Still_ his words betrayed—that even then, in the heyday of his passion, a future contingency was present to his mind. That future contingency _arrived_—would _never_ have arrived—had he not known beforehand of its remedy. He married—lived with his young bride eighteen months. She became the mother of a little girl—fell into ill health—lost her beauty and attractions. He left her—to travel in Europe—he said—but years passed, and he never returned or wrote. He left her broken in heart; broken in health, injured in reputation; exposed to the misconstructions of the world; to the miseries of poverty; to the temptations of youth, of isolation, and of warm affections; to the pursuit of the licentious; to the calumny of the wicked or the thoughtless; and worse than all to bear up against—the doubts and suspicions of the good. She was destitute of mental resources—in delicate health—morbidly sensitive, and she sank—sank—under the accumulating miseries of her position—and died—in the twenty-second year of her age, and in the fourth of her wretched marriage. I was about to cite another case—a _second_ case—when the memory of a third; a fourth; a fifth; a _dozen_ aggravated instances of desertion, presented themselves to my mind, and pressed upon me, and, reader, I cannot trouble you with the whole of them. The evils of _misalliance_ are irremediable, at least by foreign interference; and the miseries of desertion are well nigh incurable, or, “the cure is worse than the disease.” Let us look at the _causes_ and the means of _prevention_, of unhappy marriages. Yet, if you read only for the story, just skip the whole of this chapter, and commence at the _next_, which opens the drama.