Of course there are some exceptions to the general rule of antagonism.  And I am glad to believe that sometimes, even when this feeling exists, husband and wife are too considerate of one another’s comforts to betray any sign of discontent.  Said a woman to me: 

“My dear, Mrs. S. is John’s mother, and it is my duty to conceal from him the fact that she is disagreeable to me.  I could be a much happier woman for never seeing my mother-in-law again, but my husband must never suspect it.  The dear fellow flatters himself that his wife and mother ‘hit it off so well together.’  To our credit be it said, that we have never enlightened him as to the true state of affairs.”

And for the sake of the man they both loved, these women refrained from outward evidence of the intense dislike each felt for the other.

The trouble begins very far back.  When the boy is laughingly warned against “the girl with a family,” and the girl is reminded that this or that jolly fellow “has a dragon of a mother,” the evil seed is sown.  From that time until the pair are forever united at the altar, it grows, and with marriage it begins to bring forth the unpeaceable fruits of endless dissensions.  I sometimes wonder if the new life could be begun with a predisposition towards amity, what the result would be.

There is fault on both sides from the beginning.  It is an accepted proverb that no house is large enough to hold two families, and certainly no family is large enough to contain two factions.  As soon as the son of the household marries, an antagonistic element is introduced.  Mother and sisters immediately bring to bear upon the new bride opera-glasses of criticism,—­viewing faults through the small end, and virtues through the large.

It would be strange indeed if two women who have never met until the younger one was of a marriageable age, should have the same methods of housekeeping, etc.  But the mother-in-law is inclined to believe that John’s wife should do things her way, and that any other way is slovenly, new-fangled, or ridiculous.  The son’s wife—­possessing her share of individuality—­resents the interference, and shows that resentment.  Too often, alas! both make the dreary mistake of retailing their sorrows to John, and then the breach becomes too wide ever to be bridged over.  Unless John is an exceptionally independent man he will attempt in his clumsy way to bring both women to the same way of thinking, and the result would be ludicrous were it not also pitiful.  The chances are nine hundred and ninety-nine to one thousand that he will succeed in making his mother feel that he is unduly influenced by his silly wife, while said wife thinks indignantly that John is, and always will be, “under his mother’s thumb.”

I firmly believe that Mary is often to blame for John’s dislike for her family.  When she marries, she revels in the new and delightful sensation of having some one to “take her part,” and sympathize with her in all her petty annoyances and big troubles.  Her father, mother, sisters and brothers often vex her, and what more natural than that she should pour her tale of woe into the young husband’s ears?  He is delightfully indignant and full of pity for her and resentment towards those who have caused her discomfort.  At all events he understands her!