Society, in America,
is arranged principally for their convenience; and whatever portion of
the landscape strikes their fancy, they preempt and occupy. All
this goes upon the presumption that romantic love is really the only
important interest in life.

This train of thought was illuminated, the other night, by an incident
which befell me at a party. It was an assembly of men, drawn together by
their common devotion to the sport of canoeing. There were only three or
four of the gentler sex present (as honorary members), and only one
of whom it could be suspected that she was at that time a victim or an
object of the tender passion. In the course of the evening, by way of
diversion to our disputations on keels and centreboards, canvas and
birch-bark, cedar-wood and bass-wood, paddles and steering-gear, a fine
young Apollo, with a big, manly voice, sang us a few songs. But he did
not chant the joys of weathering a sudden squall, or running a rapid
feather-white with foam, or floating down a long, quiet, elm-bowered
river. Not all. His songs were full of sighs and yearnings, languid lips
and sheep's-eyes. His powerful voice informed us that crowns of thorns
seemed like garlands of roses, and kisses were as sweet as samples of
heaven, and various other curious sensations were experienced; and at
the end of every stanza the reason was stated, in tones of thunder--

"Because I love you, dear."

Even if true, it seemed inappropriate. How foolish the average
audience in a drawing-room looks while it is listening to passionate
love-ditties! And yet I suppose the singer chose these songs, not from
any malice aforethought, but simply because songs of this kind are so
abundant that it is next to impossible to find anything else in the
shops.

In regard to novels, the situation is almost as discouraging. Ten
love-stories are printed to one of any other kind. We have a standing
invitation to consider the tribulations and difficulties of some young
man or young woman in finding a mate. It must be admitted that the
subject has its capabilities of interest. Nature has her uses for the
lover, and she gives him an excellent part to play in the drama of life.
But is this tantamount to saying that his interest is perennial and
all-absorbing, and that his role on the stage is the only one that is
significant and noteworthy?

Life is much too large to be expressed in the terms of a single passion.
Friendship, patriotism, parent