As to the duties of conjugal friendship, that some think to be impaired by these absences, I am quite of another- opinion.  It is, on the contrary, an intelligence that easily cools by a too frequent and assiduous companionship.  Every strange woman appears charming, and we all find by experience that being continually together is not so pleasing as to part for a time and meet again.  These interruptions fill me with fresh affection towards my family, and render my house more pleasant to me.  Change warms my appetite to the one and then to the other.  I know that the arms of friendship are long enough to reach from the one end of the world to the other, and especially this, where there is a continual communication of offices that rouse the obligation and remembrance.  The Stoics say that there is so great connection and relation amongst the sages, that he who dines in France nourishes his companion in Egypt; and that whoever does but hold out his finger, in what part of the world soever, all the sages upon the habitable earth feel themselves assisted by it.  Fruition and possession principally appertain to the imagination; it more fervently and constantly embraces what it is in quest of, than what we hold in our arms.  Cast up your daily amusements; you will find that you are most absent from your friend when he is present with you; his presence relaxes your attention, and gives you liberty to absent yourself at every turn and upon every occasion.  When I am away at Rome, I keep and govern my house, and the conveniences I there left; see my walls rise, my trees shoot, and my revenue increase or decrease, very near as well as when I am there: 

          “Ante oculos errat domus, errat forma locorum.”

     ["My house and the forms of places float before my eyes”
     —­Ovid, Trist, iii. 4, 57.]

If we enjoy nothing but what we touch, we may say farewell to the money in our chests, and to our sons when they are gone a hunting.  We will have them nearer to us:  is the garden, or half a day’s journey from home, far?  What is ten leagues:  far or near?  If near, what is eleven, twelve, or thirteen, and so by degrees.  In earnest, if there be a woman who can tell her husband what step ends the near and what step begins the remote, I would advise her to stop between;

              “Excludat jurgia finis . . . . 
               Utor permisso; caudaeque pilos ut equinae
               Paulatim vello, et demo unum, demo etiam unum
               Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi:” 

["Let the end shut out all disputes . . . .  I use what is
permitted; I pluck out the hairs of the horse’s tail one by one;
while I thus outwit my opponent.”—­Horace, Ep., ii, I, 38, 45]

and let them boldly call philosophy to their assistance; in whose teeth it may be cast that, seeing it neither discerns the one nor the other end of the joint, betwixt the too much and the little, the long and the short, the light and the heavy, the near and the remote; that seeing it discovers neither the beginning nor the end, it must needs judge very uncertainly of the middle: