The families whose members all admire each other, are families saturated with insufferable conceit.
You happen to speak of Shakespeare, among these people, as a type of supreme intellectual capacity.

A female member of the family will not fail to convey to you that you would have illustrated your meaning far more completely if you had referred her to "dear Papa." You are out walking with a male member of the household; and you say of a woman who passes, "What a charming creature!" Your companion smiles at your simplicity, and wonders whether you have ever seen his sister when she is dressed for a ball.

These are the families who cannot be separated without corresponding with each other every day.

They read you extracts from their letters, and say, "Where is the writer by profession who can equal this ?" They talk of their private affairs, in your presence--and appear to think that you ought to be interested too.

They enjoy their own jokes across you at table--and wonder how it is that you are not amused.
In domestic circles of this sort the sisters sit habitually on the brothers' knees; and the husbands inquire into the wives' ailments, in public, as unconcernedly as if they were closeted in their own room.