nough
difficulties in the way to make it seem desirable; and a few stings
of annoyance, now and then, lent piquancy to the adventure. But a good
memory, in dealing with the past, has the art of straining out all the
beeswax of discomfort, and storing up little jars of pure hydromel. As
we look back at our six weeks in Norway, we agree that no period of our
partnership in experimental honeymooning has yielded more honey to the
same amount of comb.

Several considerations led us to the resolve of taking our honeymoon
experimentally rather than chronologically. We started from the
self-evident proposition that it ought to be the happiest time in
married life.

"It is perfectly ridiculous," said my lady Graygown, "to suppose that
a thing like that can be fixed by the calendar. It may possibly fall in
the first month after the wedding, but it is not likely. Just think how
slightly two people know each other when they get married. They are
in love, of course, but that is not at all the same as being well
acquainted. Sometimes the more love, the less acquaintance! And
sometimes the more acquaintance, the less love! Besides, at first there
are always the notes of thanks for the wedding-presents to be written,
and the letters of congratulation to be answered, and it is awfully hard
to make each one sound a little different from the others and perfectly
natural. Then, you know, everybody seems to suspect you of the folly of
being newly married. You run across your friends everywhere, and they
grin when they see you. You can't help feeling as if a lot of people
were watching you through opera-glasses, or taking snap-shots at you
with a kodak. It is absurd to imagine that the first month must be the
real honeymoon. And just suppose it were,--what bad luck that would be!
What would there be to look forward to?"

Every word that fell from her lips seemed to me like the wisdom of
Diotima.

"You are right," I cried; "Portia could not hold a candle to you for
clear argument. Besides, suppose two people are imprudent enough to get
married in the first week of December, as we did!--what becomes of the
chronological honeymoon then? There is no fishing in December, and all
the rivers of Paradise, at least in our latitude, are frozen up. No, my
lady, we will discover our month of honey by the empirical method. Each
year we will set out together to seek it in a solitude for two; and we
will compare notes on moons, and strike the final ba