Marriage iz a fair transaction on the face ov it.
But thare iz quite too often put up jobs in it.
It iz an old institushun, older than the pyramids, and az phull ov hyrogliphicks that noboddy kan parse.
History holds its tounge who the pair waz who fust put on the silken harness, and promised tew work kind in it, thru thick and thin, up hill and down, and on the level, rain or shine, survive or perish, sink or swim, drown or flote.
But whoever they waz they must hav made a good thing out ov it, or so menny ov their posterity would not hav harnessed up since and drov out.
Thare iz a grate moral grip in marriage; it iz the mortar that holds the soshull bricks together.
But there ain't but darn few pholks who put their money in matrimony who could set down and giv a good written opinyun whi on arth they cum to did it.
This iz a grate proof that it iz one ov them natral kind ov acksidents that must happen, jist az birds fly out ov the nest, when they hav feathers enuff, without being able tew tell why.
Sum marry for buty, and never diskover their mistake; this iz lucky.
Sum marry for money, and—don't see it.