y it, there is nothing that so petrifies the feeling as illicit
connection."

"Do you seriously think so?" I asked.

"Yes, and I see clearly how it should be so. Neither sex is complete of
itself--each was made for the other, that, like the two halves of a
hinge, they may become an entire whole when united. Only think of the
scriptural phrase, _one flesh_--it is of itself a system of philosophy.
Refinement and tenderness are of the woman, strength and dignity of
the man. Only observe the effects of a thorough separation, whether
originating in accident or caprice. You will find the stronger sex lost
in the rudenesses of partial barbarism; the gentler wrapt up in some
pitiful round of trivial and unmeaning occupation--dry-nursing puppies,
or making pincushions for posterity. But how much more pitiful are the
effects when they meet amiss--when the humanizing friend and companion
of the man is converted into the light degraded toy of an idle hour;
the object of a sordid appetite that lives but for a moment, and then
expires in loathing and disgust! The better feelings are iced over at
their source, chilled by the freezing and deadening contact--where
there is nothing to inspire confidence or solicit esteem; and, if these
pass not through the first, the inner circle--that circle within which
the social affections are formed, and from whence they emanate--how can
they possibly flow through the circles which lie beyond? But here, Mr.
Lindsay, is the farm of Lochlea, and yonder brown cottage, beside the
three elms, is the dwelling of my parents."

CHAPTER IV.

"From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her lov'd at home, revered abroad."
_Cotter's Saturday Night._

There was a wide and cheerful circle this evening round the hospitable
hearth of Lochlea. The father of my friend, a patriarchal-looking old
man, with a countenance the most expressive I have almost ever seen,
sat beside the wall on a large oaken settle, which also served to
accommodate a young man, an occasional visitor of the family, dressed
in rather shabby black, whom I at once set down as a probationer of
divinity. I had my own seat beside him. The brother of my friend (a lad
cast in nearly the same mould of form and feature, except, perhaps, that
his frame, though muscular and strongly set, seemed in the main less
formidably robust, and his countenance, though expressive, less
d