s of romance, and transfer its influences,
but they cannot destroy a Creator's gift to the human race. They have,
indeed, taken the romance out of some things which were once romantic,
but that is simply because they have made such things familiar and
commonplace. They have not yet touched _other_ things which still
remain in the hallowed region of romance. Romance _is_ a region.
Things crowd out of it, but other things crowd into it. The romantic
soul dwells perpetually in it, and while, perhaps with regret, it
recognises the fact that many things depart from that region, it also
observes, with pleasure, that many things enter into it, and that the
entrances are more numerous than the exits. The philosophico-romantic
spirit will admit all this and be grateful. The unphilosophico-romantic
spirit will not quite see through it, and may, perchance, be perplexed.
But be of good cheer. Have faith! Do not let the matter-of-fact
"steam-engine," and the "telegraph," and the "post-office," rob thee of
thy joys. They have somewhat modified the flow of the river of Romance,
but they have not touched its fountain-head,--and never can.

Why, what is Romance? Despite the teachings of the dictionaries--which
often give us the original and obsolete meaning of words--we maintain
that romance signifies the human soul's aspirations after the high, and
the grand, and the good. In its fallen condition the poor soul
undoubtedly makes wondrous mistakes in its romantic strainings, but
these mistakes are comparatively seldom on the side of exaggeration.
Our dictionary says that romance is extravagance--a fiction which passes
beyond the limits of real life. Now, we maintain that no one--not even
the most romantic of individuals--ever comes _up_ to real life. We have
been a child--at least we incline to that belief--and we have been, like
other children, in the habit of romancing, as it is called, that is,
according to dictionaries, passing "beyond the limits of real life" into
"extravagance." We are now a man--it is to be hoped--have travelled far
and seen much and yet we can say conscientiously that the wildest
fancies of our most romantic moods in childhood have been immeasurably
surpassed by the grand realities of actual life! What are the most
brilliant fancies of a child or of a mere ignorant "romancer," compared
to the amazing visions of the Arctic regions or the high Alps, which we
have seen? "Fictions" and "extravagance"!