The pure, ingenuous, open-hearted candor of early years, would be a better friend to man, if he did but cling to it with affection, through life, than all the worldly friends we gain in passing through existence—shrewdness, caution, prudence, selfishness, wit, or even wisdom.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE.”
A high, pure earthly love is powerful above all other earthly principles for overcoming evils; but even in its highest purity, it has not sufficient power to lead to fall perfection. It is from Heaven, but it is not Heaven itself; it is but as an angel messenger, and fails in its office if it does not lead on to love, perfect, unchangeable, divine.
Is there a woman to be found who is not insensibly flattered, even against her better reason, by devoted incense to her charms?—Very few, we fear!—poor human nature is full of vanity. A woman will indignantly spurn such love—her sense of right will make her shrink with shuddering from such feelings; still there is too often a latent, lingering spark of gratified self-love hovering about the heart; although the spark is prevented from spreading into a flame, by the preponderating influence of strong principle and purity of mind. It is, as we before said, _human nature_—and this same nature is miserably full of weakness and vanity.
I watched a rose, one lovely morn, Parade herself a summer queen, While by her side a bud, new-born, Lay locked in leaves of softest green: As that fresh bud to beauty blew, That rose lost all its scent and hue: Alas! I cried, that this should be!— For I thought, dear boy, of thee and me.
I watched a parent bird that fed Her fledgling many a vernal day, Training his dainty wings to spread And lightly flit from spray to spray: Away—afar—I marked him soar, Never to own fond guidance more. Can care and love thus wasted be?— Sadly I thought of thee and me.
I watched the moon rise sweetly bright, With one fair star that lay below, Each lovelier shone from mutual light, As hearts united gentler flow: Though moon and star in heaven divide Time brings them ever side by side. Glorying I spoke, thus may it be!— For I thought, dear boy, of thee and me.
_Merry-Mount; A Romance of Massachusetts Colony. Boston: James Monroe & Co. 2 vols. 12mo._