Woman's Love,

* *

*

* SHE thinks that he looks all the better for being pale, or at least, a thousand times more intellectual, and so there gradually blends with her former love for him, that deep reverence which forms the firmest bond of union between the sexes. A man may love, and far oftener than not, does love one beneath him in point of intellect. But it seems as natural for a woman to look up to the object of her affection as the flower to the the glow-worm to the star. * *

moon -

Genius.

SHE was not a man of genius, but she was tremblingly alive to all the influences of genius. Some people seem born with the temperament and the tastes of genius without its creative power-they have its

nervous system, but something is wanting in the intellectual. They feel acutely but express tamely. These persons always have in their character an unspeakable kind of pathos. BULWER.

Love.

I

ONE finds something among human beings that always tends to thrust them asunder. I grant that envy, pretension, unreasonableness, ennui, and a thousand large and small stones of repulsion are capable of occasioning bitter feeling: grant, also, that they are felt most keenly exactly when the circle is most confined. That is family life. What then? Is there no power, mild yet energetic, whose efficacy consists in equalizing and sweetening all, and changing even evil into good? Who will not here remember the doctrine of the Apostle, and who has not blessed it a thousand times in his life? Love is patient

and mild.

MISS BREMER.

Night.

SWIFTLY walk over the western wave,
Spirit of night!

Out of the misty eastern cave,

Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Which makes thee terrible and dear,-
Swift be thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,

Stars-inwrought!

Blind with thine hair the eyes of day,

Kiss her until she be wearied out,

Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,

Touching all with thine opiate wand-
Come, long-sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn,

I sighed for thee;

When light rode high and the dew was gone,

And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,

And the weary day turned to his rest,

Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sighed for thee.

Thy brother Death came, and cried
Wouldest thou me?

Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noontide bee,

Shall I nestle near thy side?

Wouldst thou me? And I replied

No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,

Soon, too soon

Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved night—
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!

SHELLEY.

Evening.

THE moon was pallid but not faint,
And beautiful as some fair saint
Serenely moving on her way,
In hours of trial and dismay
As if she heard the voice of God,
Unharmed with naked feet she trod,
Upon the hot and burning stars,
As on the gloomy coals and bars

That were to prove her strength and try
Her holiness and her purity.

LONGFELLOW.

Romance and Reality.

THE romancer distils life; he makes a day out of ten years, and out of a hundred grains of corn draws one drop of spirit; it is his trade. The reality proceeds in another manner. Rarely come the great events, the powerful scenes of passion. They belong in every-day life, not to the rule, but to the exceptions. On that account, thou good creature! sit not and wail or thou wouldst suffer tedium. Seek not the affluence of life without there; create it in thy own bosom. Love! love the Heaven, Nature, Wisdom, all that is good around thee and thy life will become rich; the sails of its air-ship will fill with the fresh wind, and so gradually soar up to the native regions of light and love,

MISS BREMER.