the jewels you wear,
be fastened on "the hidden man of the heart." Be ornamented with
incorruptible robes. Secure, most of all, not the renown of earthly
admiration, but that honor, which, when the world and its charms shall
be dissolved and melt like the morning vapor, will crown you with
laurels that fade not away.

Chapter VI.

LOVE.

Delicacy of the topic. Love, how regarded. As a Mystery. Burns'
lament. As an Illusion. An Impulse. A Weakness. A Disease.
Romantic views of Love. A Fatalism. "Matches made in Heaven."
Some say, "Love can be Suppressed." Associated with Lower
Propensities. A theme for Jesting and Sport. Quotation, shewing
its holy nature. The mind not to dwell constantly upon it.

In approaching the topic named at the head of this chapter, I am by no
means insensible of its difficulties and its delicacy. But no one can
contemplate its bearings on the happiness of woman, without feeling that
a work, treating of her duties and prospects, in which this subject is
studiously avoided, must be regarded as essentially defective. It is the
remark, I think, of Madam de Stael, that "love, which is but an episode
in the life of man, is the whole history of woman." Without subscribing
to this opinion in full, we must still contend that the destiny of her
affections is to her a theme of vital interest. She cannot but reflect
much upon it; and since her views may affect so deeply her ultimate
decision in reference to a matrimonial connection, is he a true friend
who fails to give her all the light, and counsel, and guidance in his
power, on this point?

It is well known that not a few among the insane of this sex have been
made so by their erroneous ideas relative to the exercise of the
affections. I may be pardoned for adverting, in this place, to some of
the many and various views entertained in regard to the sentiment of
love.

One considers it a Mystery, something with which the understanding has
no concern, and which is never to be reasoned upon, although we may
exercise that prerogative on all other subjects. Hence, according to the
Roman mythology, Amor, the God of love, is represented as blind-folded.
His arrows inflict wounds, it is said, of which the sight can take no
cognizance. The language of the poet records the bitter experience of
woman, often consequent on this delusive impression:

"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so _blindly_,
Never met or