soundness, and the
illusion will be dispelled.

But what is love? Shall we take the description of it given by the
master poet of our nature, who tells us that

"Love with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices"?

It may be thus mighty in its sway over some hearts; but not always are
its courses so "swift." The affections of some "tremble, like a leaf, at
every breath of love; while others, like the ocean, are moved only by
the breath of a storm." Yet in all, its approach causes great changes in
the character, and usually alters the entire complexion of life. Where
the individual has enjoyed great mental culture, it brings in its train
increased hazards; and in not a few hearts, its involutions are
strangely complex, and its abysses of fearful depth.

I am one of those who believe, that in strict truth, the first love is
the only real, all-pervading affection. There are other sentiments, on
which the marriage relation may be founded with fair and reasonable
hopes of an happy result. But no one can love two individuals,
simultaneously or successively, with equal strength. There is a fervor,
in the freshness of the heart's first gift, that no second occasion can
quicken. Petrarch could never have found another Laura. Though his was
love at first sight, it endured until twenty-one years had terminated
the life of its object. Our earliest manners, tones of voice, and
expression of countenance, endure the longest. So does the stamp of
love's seal, when new, outshine every subsequent impression. Hence the
importance of bestowing this primal treasure with wisdom. Where all of
this life, and all of the future is at stake, wary should be our steps,
and well pondered our decisions.

We hear much of "love-matches." Weak transactions, but the foam of
love's great deep, are many of these matches. Still there is such a
thing as marriage based on spontaneous love. It may occur at a chance
meeting, not, I allow, to be consummated without the revision of calm
judgment, but still the fruit of a moment's impression. There is a kind
of love, which is not natural, impulsive, and cordial, but the result of
an unnatural predisposition, and an inflamed and diseased imagination.
None the less is there an up-welling, genuine affection, that for the
time, commands and absorbs woman's entire being. It is possible,